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THE WORKS
OF
ISAAC DISRAELI
I L
THE
CALAMITIES AND QUARRELS
OP
AUTHOES: '
■ C L- (J
WITH
SOME INQTJIKIES KESPECTING THEIR MORAL AND
LITERARY CHARACTERS,
ginb P^mmrs bx am ITit-erarg fistorg.
By ISAAC DISRAELI.
Ji^ ISTETV EDITION",
EDITED BY HIS SON,
THE RIGHT HON. B. DISRAELI, M.R
LONDON :
ERICK WARNE AND CO,
BEDFORD STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
NEW YORK : SCRIBNER, WELFORD AND CO.
1869.
[The Author reserves the right of TrantUUionJ]
It
LOKDOV t
BAVILI., tDWXnm AKD CO., PBIITTSBS, OHAMDOS STB2X2
COTSVT ftABDfiff.
T>H3
CONTENTS.
CALAMITIES OF AUTHORS.
PAGB
PREFACE 3
AUTHORS BY PROFESSION: — GUTHRIE AND AMHURST — DRAKE —
SMOLLETT 7
THE CASE OF AUTHORS STATED, INCLUDING THE HISTORY OF LITE-
RARY PROPERTY 15
THE SUFFERINGS OF AUTHORS 22
A MENDICANT AUTHOR, AND THE PATRONS OP FORMER TIMES ... 25
COWLEY — OF HIS MELANCHOLY 35
THE PAINS OF FASTIDIOUS EGOTISM 42
INFLUENCE OF A BAD TEMPER IN CRITICISM 51
DISAPPOINTED GENIUS TAKES A FATAL DIRECTION BY ITS ABUSE . . 59
THE MALADIES OF AUTHORS 70
LITERARY SCOTCHMEN 75
LABORIOUS AUTHORS 83
THE DESPAIR OF YOUNG POETS 98
THE MISERIES OF THE FIRST ENGLISH COMMENTATOR 104
THE LIFE OF AN AUTHORESS 106
INDISCRETION OF AN HISTORIAN — CARTE 110
LITERARY RIDICULE, ILLUSTRATED BY SOME ACCOUNT OP A LITERARY
SATIRE 114
WTERARY HATRED, EXHIBITING A CONSPIRACY AGAINST AN AUTHOR. 130
213009
VI Contents,
TXBH
UNDUE SEVERITY OF CRITICISM 139
A VOLUMINOUS AUTHOR WITHOUT JUDGMENT 146
GENIUS AND ERUDITION THE VICTIMS OP IMMODERATE VANITY . . 162
GENIUS, THE DUPE OF ITS PASSIONS 168
LITERARY DISAPPOINTMENTS DISORDERING THE INTELLECT . . . .172
REWARDS OF ORIENTAL STUDENTS 186
DANGER INCURRED BY GIVING THE RESULT OF LITERARY INQUIRIES . 193
A NATIONAL WORK WHICH COULD FIND NO PATRONAGE 200
MISERIES OF SUCCESSFUL AUTHORS 202
THE ILLUSIONS OF WRITERS IN VERSE 212
QUARRELS OF AUTHORS.
PREFACE 229
WARBURTON AND HIS QUARRELS ; INCLUDING AN ILLUSTRATION OF HIS
LITERARY CHARACTER 233
POPE AND HIS MISCELLANEOUS QUARRELS 278
POPE AND CURLL; OR A NARRATIVE OF THE EXTRAORDINARY
TRANSACTIONS RESPECTING THE PUBLICATION OF POPe's LETTERS 292
POPE AND CIBBER ; CONTAINING A VINDICATION OF -THE OOMIO
WRITER • 301
POPE AND ADDISON 313
BOLINGBROKE AND MALLBT's POSTHUMOUS QUARREL WITH POPE . ,321
LINTOT's ACCOUNT-BOOK 328
pope's earliest satire 333
Xthe royal society 336
slfr john hill, with the royal society, fielding, smart, etc. . 363
boyle and bentley 377
Contents, vii
PABEEB AND MABYELL • • . . . 891
V d'aVENANT and a OLUB op WIT3 403
THE PAPEB WABS OF THE CIVIL WABS 414
POLITICAL OBITICISM ON LITBBABY COMPOSITIONS 423
VHOBBES and his QTJABBELS; including an ILLUSTBATION of HIS
CHABACTEB 437
HOBBES'S QUABBELS with DB. WALLIS, the MATHEMATICIAN . . . 463
JONSON AND DECKER
CAMDEN AND ^BOOKE 491
MABTIN MAB-PBELATB 501
SUPPLEMENT TO MABTIN MAB-PBELATB 525
LITEBABY QUABBELS PBOM PEBSONAL MOTIVES 531
INDEX 54
CALAMITIES OF AUTHORS
INOLUDINQ
SOME INQUIEIES EESPECTmG THEIR MORAL
AND LITERARY CHARACTERS.
•' Such a superiority do the pursuits of Literature possess above every other occu-
pation, that even he who attains but a mediocrity in them, merits the pre-eminence
above those that excel the most in the common and vulgar professions." — B.vis.a.
PREFACE.
'^HE Calamities of Authors have often excited the attention
of the lovers of literature ; and, from the revival of letters to
this day, this class of the community, the most ingenious and
the most enlightened, have, in all the nations of Europe, been
the most honoured, and the least remunerated. Pierius Vale-
rianus, an attendant in the literary court of Leo X., who twice
refused a bishopric that he might pursue his studies uninter-
rupted, was a friend of Authors, and composed a small work,
"De Infelicitate Literatorum," which has been frequently re--
printed.* It forms a catalogue of several Itahan literati, his
contemporaries ; a meagre performance, in which the author
shows sometimes a predilection for the marvellous, which
happens so rarely in human affairs ; and he is so unphiloso-
phical, that he places among the misfortunes of literary men
those fatal casualties to which all men are alike liable. Yet
even this small volume has its value : for although the his-
torian confines his narrative to his own times, he includes a
sufficient number of names to convince us that to devote our
life to authorship is not the true means of improving our
happiness or our fortune.
At a later period, a congenial work was composed by Theo-
philus Spizelius, a German divine ; his four volumes are after
the fashion of his country and his times, which could make
even small things ponderous. In 1680 he first published two
* A modern writer observes, that " Valeriano is chiefly known to the
present times by his brief but curious and interesting work, De Literatorum
Infelicitate, which has preserved many anecdotes of the principal scholars
of the age, not elsewhere to be found." — Roscoe's Leo X. vol. iv. p. 175.
b2
4 Preface,
volumes, entitled "Infelix Literatus," and five years after-
wards his " Felicissimus Literatus ;" he writes without size,
and sermonises without end, and seems to have been so grave
a lover of symmetry, that he shapes his Felicities just
with the same measure as his Infelicities. These two
equalised bundles of hay might have held in suspense the
casuistical ass of Sterne, till he had died from want of a
motive to choose either. Yet Spizelius is not to be con-
temned because he is verbose and heavy; he has reflected
more deeply than Valerianus, by opening the moral causes of
those calamities which he describes.*
The chief object of the present work is to ascertain some
doubtful yet important points concerning Authors. The title
of Author still retains its seduction among our youth, and is
consecrated by ages. Yet what affectionate parent would consent
to see his son devote himself to his pen as a profession ? The
studies of a true Author insulate him in society, exacting
daily labours ; yet he will receive but little encouragement,
and less remuneration. It will be found that the most suc-
cessful Author can obtain no equivalent for the labours of
his life. I have endeavoured to ascertain this fact, to de-
velope the causes and to paint the variety of evils that natu-
rally result from the disappointments of genius. Authors
themselves never discover this melancholy truth till they
have yielded to an impulse, and adopted a profession, too late
in life to resist the one, or abandon the other. Whoever
labours without hope, a painful state to which Authors are at
length reduced, may surely be placed among the most injured
class in the community. Most Authors close their lives in
apathy or despair, and too many live by means which few of
them would not blush to describe.
Besides this perpetual struggle with penury, there are also
* There is also a bulky collection of this kind, entitled, Analecta de
Calamitate Literatorum, edited by Mencken, the author of Charlaianeri<i
Eruditwum.
Preface, 5
moral causes which influence the literary character. I have
drawn the individual characters and feelings of Authors from
their own confessions, or deduced them from the prevalent
events of their lives ; and often discovered them in their
secret histoiy, as it floats on tradition, or lies concealed in
authentic and original documents. T would paint what has
not been unhappily called the psychological character.*
I have limited my inquiries to our own country, and gene-
rally to recent times ; for researches more curious, and eras
more distant, would less forcibly act on our sympathy. If,
in attempting to avoid the naked brevity of Valerianus, I
have taken a more comprehensive view of several of our
Authors, it has been with the hope that I was throwing a
new light on their characters, or contributing some fresh
materials to our literary history. I feel anxious for the fate
of the opinions and the feelings which have arisen in the pro-
gress and diversity of this work ; but whatever their errors
may be, it is to them that my readers at least owe the mate-
rials of which it is formed ; these materials will be received
with consideration, as the confessions and statements of genius
itself. In mixing them with v[\j own feelings, let me apply
a beautiful apologue of the Hebrews — " The clusters of grapes
sent out of Babylon implore favour for the exuberant leaves
of the vine ; for had there been no leaves, you had lost the
grapes."
* From the Grecian Psyche, or the soul, the Germans have borro-wed
this expressive term. They have a Psychological Magazine. Some of
our own recent authors have adopted the term peculiarly adapted to the
historian of the human mind.
THE
CALAMITIES OF AUTHORS.
AUTHORS BY PROFESSION.
GUTHRIE AND AMHURST — DRAKE — SMOLLETT,
A GEE AT author once surprised me by inquiring what I
meant by. "an Author by Profession." He seemed offended
at the supposition that I was creating an odious distinction
between authors. I was only placing it among their calamities.
The title of Author is venerable; and in the ranks of
national glory, authors mingle with its heroes and its patriots.
It is indeed by our authors that foreigners have been taught
most to esteem us ; and this remarkably appears in the ex-
pression of Gemelli, the Italian traveller round the world,
who wrote about the year 1700 ; for he told all Europe that
*• he could find nothing amongst us but our writings to dis-
tinguish us from the worst of barbarians." But to become
an " Author by Profession," is to have no other means of
subsistence than such as are extracted from the quill ; and no
one believes these to be so precarious as they really are, until
disappointed, distressed, and thrown out of every pursuit
which can maintain independence, the noblest mind is cast
into the lot of a doomed labourer.
Literature abounds with instances of " Authors by Profes-
sion" accommodating themselves to this condition. By vile
artifices of faction and popularity their moral sense is injured,
and the literary character sits in that study which he ought
to dignify, merely, as one of them sings,
To keep his mutton twirling at the fire.
Another has said, " He is a fool who is a grain honester
than the times he lives in."
. Let it not, therefore, be conceived that I mean to degrade
or vilify the literary character, when I would only separate
8 Calamities of Authors,
the Author from those pollutors of the press who have
turned a vestal into a prostitute ; a grotesque race of famished
buffoons or laughing assassins ; or that populace of unhappy
beings, who are driven to perish in their garrets, unknown and
unregarded by all, for illusions which even their calamities
cannot disperse. Poverty, said an ancient, is a sacred thing —
it is, indeed, so sacred, that it creates a sympathy even for
those who have incurred it by their folly, or plead by it for
their crimes.
The history of our Literature is instructive — let us trace
the origin of characters of this sort among us : some of them
have happily disappeared, and, whenever great authors obtain
their due rights, the calamities of literature will be greatly
diminished.
PAls for the phrase of " Authors by Profession," it is said to
be of modern origin ; and Gutheie, a great dealer in litera-
ture, and a political scribe, is thought to have introduced it,
as descriptive of a class of writers which he wished to distin-
guish from the general term. I present the reader with an
unpublished letter of Guthrie, in which the phrase will not
only be found, but, what is more important, which exhibits
the character in its degraded form. It was addressed to a
minister.
" Mt Loed, June 3, 1762.
*' In the year 1745-6, Mr. Pelham, then First Lord of the
Treasury, acquainted me, that it was his Majesty's pleasure I
should receive, till better provided for, which never has hap-
pened, 200Z. a-year, to be paid by him and his successors in
the Treasury. I was satisfied with the august name made
use of, and the appointment has been regularly and quarterly
paid me ever since. I have been equally punctual in doing
the government all the services that fell within my abilities
or sphere of life, especially in those critical situations that
call for unanimity in the service of the crown.
"Your Lordship may possibly now suspect that I am an
Author hy Profession : you are not deceived ; and will be less
so, if you believe that I am disposed to serve his Majesty
under your Lordship's future patronage and protection, with
greater zeal, if possible, than ever.
" I have the honour to be,
" My Lord, «fcc., -^
"William Guthete."|
Authors by Profession. 9
Unblushing venality ! In one part he shouts like a plun-
dering hussar who has carried off his prey ; and in the other
he bows with the tame suppleness of the "quarterly" Swiss
chaffering his halbert for his price ; — " to serve his Majesty "
for — "his Lordship's future patronage."
"Guthrie's notion of "An Author by Profession," entirely
derived from his own character, was twofold ; literary task-
work, and political degradation. He was to be a gentleman
convertible into an historian, at per sheet ; and, when he
had not time to write histories, he chose to sell his name to
those he never wrote. These are mysteries of the craft of
authorship ; in this sense it is only a trade, and a very bad
one ! But when in his other capacity, this gentleman comes
to hire himself to one lord as he had to another, no one can
doubt that the stipendiary would change his principles with
his livery.*
Such have been some of the "Authors by Profession " who
have worn the literary mask ; for literature was not the first
object of their designs. They form a race peculiar to our
country. They opened their career in our first great revolu-
tion, and flourished during the eventful period of the civil
wars. In the form of newspapers, their " Mercuries " and
" Diurnals " were political pamphlets. f Of these, the
Eoyalists, being the better educated, carried off to their side
all the spirit, and only left the foam and dregs for the Parlia-
mentarians; otherwise, in lying, they were just like one
another ; for " the father of lies ". seems to be of no party !
Were it desirable to instruct men by a system of political and
moral calumny, the complete art might be drawn from these
archives of political lying, during their flourishing era. We
might discover principles among them which would have
humbled the genius of Machiavel himself, and even have
taught Mr. Sheridan's more popular scribe, Mr. Pulf, a sense
of his own inferiority.
It is known that, during the administration of Harley and
Walpole, this class of authors swarmed and started up like
mustard-seed in a hot-bed. More than fifty thousand pounds
* It has been lately disclosed that Home, the author of "Douglas," was
pensioned by Lord Bute to answer all the papers and pamphlets of the
Government, and to be a vigilant defender of the measures of Government.
+ I have elsewhere portrayed the personal characters of the hireling
chiefs of these paper wars : the versatile and unprincipled Marchmont
Needham, the Cobbetfc of bis day ; the factious Sir Roger L' Estrange ; and
the bantering and profligate Sir John Birkenhead.
10 Calamities of Authors,
were expended among them ! Faction, with mad and blind
passions, can affix a value on the basest things that serve its
purpose. * These " Authors by Profession " wrote more
assiduously the better they were paid ; but as attacks only
produced replies and rejoinders, to remunerate them was
heightening the fever and feeding the disease. They were all
fighting for present pay, with a view of the promised land
before them ; but they at length became so numerous, and so
crowded on one another, that the minister could neither
satisfy promised claims nor actual dues. He had not at last
the humblest office to bestow, not a commissionership of wine
licences, as Tacitus Gordon had : not even a collectorship of
the customs in some obscure town, as was the wretched worn-
out Oldmixon's pittance ;t not a crumb for a mouse !
The captain of this banditti in the administration of
"Walpole was Amall, a young attorney, whose mature genius
for scurrilous party-papers broke forth in his tender nonage.
This hireling was " The Free Briton," and in " The Gazetteer"
Francis Walsingham, Esq., abusing the name of a profound
statesman. It is said that he received above ten thousand
pounds for his obscure labours ; and this patriot was suffered
to retire with all the dignity which a pension could confer.
He not only wrote for hire, but valued himself on it ; proud
of the pliancy of his pen and of his principles, he wrote with-
out remorse what his patron was forced to pay for, but to
disavow. It was from a knowledge of these " Authors by
Profession," writers of a faction in the name of the community,
as they have been well described, that our great statesman
Pitt fell into an error which he lived to regret. He did not
* An ample view of these lucubrations is exhibited in the early volumes
of the Gentleman^ s Magazine.
+ It was said of this man that "he had submitted to labour at the
press, like a horse in a mill, till he became as blind and as wretched." To
show the extent of the conscience of this class of writers, and to what
lengths mere party- writers can proceed, when duly encouraged, Oldmixon,
who was a Whig historian, if a violent party-writer ought ever to be
dignified by so venerable a title, unmercifully rigid to all other historians,
was himself guilty of the crimes with which he so loudly accused others.
He charged three eminent persons with interpolating Lord Clarendon's
History ; this charge was afterwards disproved by the passages being pro-
duced in his Lordship's own handwriting, which had been fortunately
preserved ; and yet this accuser of interpolation, when employed by Bishop
Kennett to publish his collection of our historians, made no scruple of falsi-
fying numerous passages in Daniel's Chronicle, which makes the first
edition of that collection of no value.
Authors by Profession. 11
distinguish between authors ; he confounded the mercenary
with the men of talent and character ; and with this con-
tracted view of the poKtical influence of genius, he must have
viewed with awe, perhaps with surprise, its mighty labour in
the volumes of Burke.
But these " Authors by Profession " sometimes found a
retribution of their crimes even from their masters. When
the ardent patron was changed into a cold minister, their pen
seemed wonderfully to have lost its point, and the feather
could not any more tickle. They were flung off, as Shak-
speare's striking imagery expresses it, like
An unregarded bulrush on the stream,
To rot itself with motion.
Look on the fate and fortune of Amhtjest. The life of
this " Author by Profession" points a moral. He flourished
about the year 1730. He passed through a youth of iniquity,
and was expelled his college for his irregularities : he had
exhibited no marks of regeneration when he assailed the
university with the periodical paper of the Terrce Filius ; a
witty Saturnahan effusion on the manners and Toryism of
Oxford, where the portraits have an extravagant kind of like-
ness, and are so false and so true that they were universally
relished and individually understood. Amhurst, having lost
his character, hastened to reform the morals and politics of
the nation. For near twenty years he toiled at " The Crafts-
man," of which ten thousand are said to have been sold in
one day. Admire this patriot ! an expelled collegian becomes
an outrageous zealot for popular reform, and an intrepid Whig
can bend to be yoked to all the drudgery of a faction ! Am-
hurst succeeded in writing out the minister, and writing in
Bohngbroke and Pulteney. Now came the hour of gratitude
and generosity. His patrons mounted into power^but —
they silently dropped the instrument of their ascension. The
political prostitute stood shivering at the gate of preferment,
which his masters had for ever flung against him. He died
broken-hearted, and owed the charity of a grave to his book-
seller.
I must add one more striking example of apolitical author
in the case of Dr. James Drake, a man of genius, and an
excellent writer. He resigned an honourable profession, that
of medicine, to adopt a very contrary one, that of becoming
an author by profession for a party. As a Tory writer, he
12 Calamities of Authors.
dared every extremity of the law, while he evaded it by every
subtlety of artifice ; he sent a masked lady with his MS. to
the printer, who was never discovered, and was once saved by
a flaw in the indictment from the simple change of an r for a
t, or nor for not ; — one of those shameful evasions by which
the law, to its perpetual disgrace, so often protects the crimi-
nal from punishment. Dr. Drake had the honour of hearing
himself censured from the throne ; of being imprisoned ; of
seeing his "Memorials of the Church of England" bui-ned
at London, and his "Historia Anglo-Scotica " at Edinburgh.
Having enlisted himself in the pay of the booksellers, among
other works, I suspect, he condescended to practise some
literary impositions. For he has reprinted Father Parson's
famous libel against the Earl of Leicester in Elizabeth's reign,
under the title of " Secret Memoirs of Robert Dudley, Earl
of Leicester, 1706," 8vo, with a preface pretending it was
printed from an old MS.
Drake was a lover of literature ; he left behind him a ver-
sion of Herodotus, and a " S^^stem of Anatom}'^," once the
most popular and curious of its kind. After all this turmoil
of his literary life; neither his masked lady nor tlie flaws in
his indictments availed him. Government brought a writ of
error, severely prosecuted him ; and, abandoned, as usual, by
those for whom he had annihilated a genius which deserved a
better fate, his perturbed spirit broke out into a fever, and he
died raving against cruel persecutors, and patrons not much
more humane.
L.So much for some of those who have been " Authors by
Profession" in one of the twofold capacities which Guthrie
designed, that of writing for a minister ; the other, that of
writing for the boo^eller, though far more honourable, is
sufiiciently calamitouS]^
In commercial times, the hope of profit is always a stimu-
lating, but a degrading motive ; it dims the clearest intellect,
it stills the proudest feelings. Habit and prejudice will soon
reconcile even genius to the work of money, and to avow the
motive without a blush. " An author by profession," at once
ingenious and ingenuous, declared that, " till fame appears to
be worth more than money, he would always prefer money to
fame." Johnson had a notion that there existed no motive
for writing but money ! Yet, crowned heads have sighed with
the ambition of authorship, though this great master of the
Authors by Profession. 13
human mind could suppose that on this subject men were not
actuated either by the love of glory or of pleasure ! Fielding,
an author of great 'genius and of " the profession," in one of
his " Covent-garden Journals " asserts, that " An author, in
a country where there is no public provision for men of
genius, is not obliged to be a more disinterested patriot than
any other. Why is he whose livelihood is in his pen a greater
monster in using it to serve himself, than he who uses his
tongue for the same purpose ?"
But it is a very important question to ask, is this " live-
lihood in the pen" really such? Authors drudging on in
obscurity, and enduring miseries which can never close but
with their life — shall this be worth even the humble designa-
tion of a " livelihood ?" I am not now combating with them
whether their taskwork degrades them, but whether they are
receiving an equivalent for the violation of their genius, for
the weight of the fetters they are wearing, and for the entailed
miseries which form an author's sole legacies to his widow and
his children. Far from me is the wish to degrade literature
by the inquiry ; but it will be useful to many a youth of pro-
mising talent, who is impatient to abandon all professions for
this one, to consider well the calamities in which he will most
probably participate.
Among "Authors by Profession" who has displayed a
more fruitful genius, and exercised more intense industry, with
a loftier sense of his independence, than Smollett ? But
look into his life and enter into his feelings, and you will be
shocked at the disparity of his situation with the genius of
the man. His life was a succession of struggles, vexations,
and disappointments, yet of success in his writings. Smolletb,
who is a great poet, though he has written little in verse, and
whose rich genius composed the most original pictures of
human life, was compelled by his wants to debase his name by
selling it to voyages and translations, which he never could
have read. When he had worn himself down in the service
of the public or the booksellers, there remained not, of all his
slender remunerations, in the last stage of life, sufficient to
convey him to a cheap country and a restorative air on the
Continent. The father may have thought himself fortunate,
that the daughter whom he loved with more than common
affection was no more to share in his wants ; but the husband
had by his side the faithful companion of his hfe, left without
14 Calamities of Authors.
a wreck of fortune. Smollett, gradually perishing in a foreign
land,* neglected by an admiring public, and without fresh
resources from the booksellers, who were receiving the income
of his works, threw out his injured feelings in the character
of Bramble ; the warm generosity of his temper, but not his
genius, seemed fleeting with his breath. In a foreign land his
widow marked by a -plain monument the spot of his burial,
and she perished in solitude ! Yet Smollett dead — soon an
ornamented column is raised at the place of his birth,t while
the grave of the author seemed to multiply the editions of
his works. There are indeed grateful feelings in the public
at large for a favourite author ; but the awful testimony of
those feelings, by its gradual progrciss, must appear be^-ond
the grave ! They visit the column consecrated by his name,
and his features are most loved, most venerated, in the bust.
Smollett himself shall be the historian of his own heart ;
this most successful " Author by Profession," who, for his
subsistence, composed masterworks of genius', and drudged in
the toils of slavery, shall himself tell us what happened, and
describe that state between life and death, partaking of both,
which obscured his faculties and sickened his lofty spirit.
" Had some of those who were pleased to call themselves
my friends been at any pains to deserve the character, and
told me ingenuously what I had to expect in the capacity of
an author, when I first professed myself of that venerable fra-
ternity, I should in all probability have spared myself the
incredible labour and chagrin I have since undergone''
As a relief from literary labour, Smollett once went to
revisit his family, and to embrace the mother he loved ; but
such was the irritation of his mind and the infirmity of his
health, exhausted by the hard labours of authorship, that he
never passed a more weary summer, nor ever found himself so
incapable of indulging the warmest emotions of his heart.
* Smollett died in a small abode in the neighbourhood of Leghorn,
■where he had resided some time in the hope of recovering his shattered
health ; and where he wrote his '* Humphrey Clinker." His friends had
tried in vain to procure for him the appointment of consul to any one of
the ports of the Mediterranean, He is buried in the English cemetery at
Leghorn. — Ed.
+ It stands opposite Dalquhum House, where he was born, near the
village of Ronton, Dumbai-tonshire. Had Smollett lived a few more years,
he would have been entitled to an estate of about lOOOZ. a year. There is
also a cenotaph to his memory on the banks of Leven- water, which he has
consecrated in one of his best poems. — Ed.
The Case of Authors stated. 15
On his return, in a letter, he gave this melancholy narrative
of himself : — " Between friends, I am now convinced that my
train ivas in some measure affected ; for I had a kind of Coma
Vigil upon me from April to November, without intermission.
In consideration of this circumstance, I know you will forgive
all my peevishness and discontent ; tell Mrs. Moore that with
regard to me, she has as yet seen nothing but the wrong side
of the tapestry." Thus it happens in the life of authors, that
they whose comic genius diffuses cheerfulness, create a pleasure
which they cannot themselves participate.
The Coma Vigil may be described by a verse of Shak-
speare : —
Still-waking sleep ! that is not what it is !
Of praise and censure, says Smollett, in a letter to Dr.
Moore, " Indeed I am sick of both, and wish to God my
circumstances would allow me to consign my pen to oblivion."
A wish, as fervently repeated by many " Authors by Pro-
fession," who are not so fully entitled as was Smollett to
write when he chose, or to have lived in quiet for what he had
written. An author's life is therefore too often deprived of all
social comfort whether he be the writer for a minister, or a
bookseller — but their case requires to be stated.
THE CASE OF AUTHORS STATED,
INCLUDING THE HISTORY OF LITERARY PROPERTY.
JoHKSON has dignified the booksellers as "the patrons of
literature," which was generous in that great author, who
had written well and lived but ill all his life on that patronage.
Eminent booksellers, in their constant intercourse with the
most enlightened class of the community, that is, with the
best authors and the best readers, partake of the intelligence
around them ; their great capitals, too, are productive of good
and evil in literature ; useful when they carry on great works,
and pernicious when they s;anction indifferent ones. Yet are
they but commercial men.\A trader can never be deemed a
patron, for it would be romantic to purchase what is not sale-
able ; and where no favour is conferred, there is no patronage^
Authors continue poor, and booksellers become opulent ; an
extraordinary result ! Booksellers are not agents for authors,
J
16 Calamities of Authors.
but proprietors of their works ; so that the perpetual revenues
of literature are solely in the possession of the trade.
Is it then wonderful that even successful authors are indi-
gent ? They are heirs to fortunes, but by a strange singu-
larity they are disinherited at their birth ; for, on the publi-
cation of their works, these cease to be their own property.
Let that natural property be secured, and a good book would
be an inheritance, a leasehold or a freehold, as you choose it ;
it might at least last out a generation, and descend to the
author's blood, were they permitted to live on their father's
glory, as in all other property they do on his industry.*
Something of this nature has been instituted in France, where
the descendants of Corneille and Moliere retain a claim on
the theatres whenever the dramas of their great ancestors
are performed. In that country, literature has ever received
peculiar honours — it was there decreed, in the affair of Cre-
billon, that literary productions are not seizable by creditors.f
The history of literary property in this country might form
as ludicrous a narrative as Lucian's " true history." It was
a long while doubtful whether any such thing existed, at the
very time when booksellers were assigning over the perpetual
copyrights of books, and making them the subject of family
settlements for the provision of their wives and children !
When Tonson, in 1739, obtained an injunction to restrain
d^ The following facts will show the value of literary property ; immense
profits and cheap purchases ! The manuscript of " Robinson Crusoe" ran
through the whole trade, and no one would print it ; the bookseller who did
purchase it, who, it is said, was not remarkable for his discernment, but for
a speculative turn, got a thousand guineas by it. How many have the
booksellers since accumulated ? Burn's "Justice" was disposed of by its
author for a trifle, as well as Buchan's " Domestic Medicine ;" these works
yield annual incomes. Goldsmith's '* Vicar of Wakefield " was sold in the
hour of distress, with little distinction from any other work in that class of
composition; and "Evelina" produced five guineas from the niggaidly
trader. Dr. Johnson fixed the price of his "Biography of the Poets" at
two hundred guineas ; and Mr. Malone observes, the booksellers in the
course of twenty-five years have probably got five thousand. I could add a
great number of facts of this nature which relate to living writers ; the
profits of their own works for two or three years would rescue them from
the horrors and humiliation of pauperism. It is, perhaps, useful to record,
that, while the compositions of genius are but slightly remunerated, though
sometimes as productive as "the household stuff" of literature, the latter
is rewarded with princely magnificeuce. At the sale of the Robinsons, the
copyright of " Vyse's Spelling-book " was sold at the enormous price of
2200^., with an annuity of fifty guineas to the authorT^
+ The circumstance, with the poet's dignified petition, and the King's
honourable decree, are preserved in ' ' Curiosities of Literature, " vol. i. p. 406.
The Case of Authors stated. 17
another bookseller from printing Milton's " Paradise Lost,"
he brought into court as a proof of his title an assignment of
the original copyright, made over by the sublime poet in
1667, which was read. Milton received for this assignment
the sum which we all know — Tonson and all his family and
assignees rode in their carriages with the profits of the five-
pound epic*
The verbal and tasteless lawyers, not many years past, with
legal metaphysics, wrangled like the schoolmen, inquiring of
each other, " whether the style and ideas of an author were
tangible things ; or if these were a 'property, how is possession
to be taken, or any act of occupancy made on mere intel-
lectual ideas'^ Nothing, said they, can be an object of pro-
perty but which has a corporeal substance ; the air and the
light, to which they compared an author's ideas, are common
to all ; ideas in the MS. state were compared to birds in a
cage ; while the author confines them in his own dominion,
nonfe but he has a right to let them fly ; but the moment he
allows the bird to escape from his hand, it is no violation of
property in any one to make it his own. And to prove that
there existed no property after publication, they found an
analogy in the gathering of acorns, or in seizing on a vacant
piece of ground ; and thus degrading that most refined piece
of art formed in the highest state of society, a literary pro-
duction, they brought us back to a state of nature ; and seem
to have concluded that literary property was purely ideal ; a
phantom which, as its author could neither grasp nor confine
* The elder Tonson's portrait represents him in his gown and cap, hold-
ing in his right hand a volume lettered " Paradise Lost" — such a favourite
object was Milton and copyright ! Jacob Tonson was the founder of a race
who long hououred literature. His rise in life is curious. He was at first
unable to pay twenty pounds for a play by Di-yden, and joined with another
bookseller to advance that sum ; the play sold, and Tonson was afterwards
enabled to purchase the succeeding ones. He and his nephew died worth
two hundred thousand pounds. — Much old Tonson owed to his own in-
dustry ; but he was a mere trader. He and Drydeu had frequent bicker-
ings ; he insisted on receiving 10,000 verses for two hundred and sixty-eight
pounds, and poor Dryden threw in the finest Ode in the language towards
the number. He would pay in the base coin which was then current ;
which was a loss to the poet. Tonson once complained to Dryden, that he
had only received 1446 lines of his translation of Ovid for his Miscellany
for fifty guineas, when he had calculated at the rate of 1518 lines for forty
guineas ; he gives the poet a piece of critical reasoning, that he considered
he had a better bargain with "Juvenal," which is reckoned " not so easy
to translate as Ovid." In these times such a mere trader in literature has
disappeared.
18 Calamities of Authors,
to himself, lie must entirely depend on the public benevolence
for his reward.*
The Ideas, that is, the work of an author, are " tangible
things." " There are works," to quote the words of a near
and dear relative, " which require great learning, great in-
dustry, great labour, and great capital, in their preparation.
They assume a palpable form. You may fill warehouses with
them, and freight ships ; and the tenure by which they are
held is superior to that of all other property, for it is original.
It is tenure which does not exist in a doubtful title ; which
does not spring from any adventitious circumstances; it is
not found^ — it is not purchased — it is not prescriptive — it is
original ; so it is the most natural of all titles, because it is
the most simple and least artificial. It is paramount and
sovereign, because it is a tenure by creation." f
There were indeed some more generous spirits and better
philosophers fortunately found on the same bench ; and the
identity of a literary composition was resolved into its senti-
ments and language, besides what was more obviously valuable
to some persons, the print and paper. On this slight prin-
ciple was issued the profound award which accorded a certain
term of years to any work, however immortal. They could
not diminish the immortality of a book, but only its reward.
In all the litigations respecting literary property, authors
were little considered — except some honourable testimonies
due to genius, from the sense of Willes, and the eloquence
of Mansfield. Literary property w^as still disputed, like the
rights of a parish common. An honest printer, who could
not always write grammar, had the shrewdness to make a
bold effort in this scramble, and perceiving that even by this
last favourable award all literary property would necessarily
cenlre with the booksellers, now stood forward for his own body
— the printers. This rough advocate observed that " a few
persons who call themselves booksellers, about the number of
twenty-Jive, have kept the monopoly of hooks and copies in
their hands, to the entire exclusion of all others, but more
especially the printers, whom they have always held it a rule
never to let become purchasers in copy^ Not a word for the
autJiors ! As for them, they were doomed by both parties as
the fat oblation : they indeed sent forth some meek bleat-
* Sir James Burrows' Reports on the question concerning Literary Pro
perty, ito. London, 1773.
t Mirror of Parliament, 3529.
The Case of Authors stated, 19
ings ; but what were ArTHOus, between judges, booksellers,
and printers ? the sacrificed among the saerificers !
All this was reasoning in a circle. Liteeaet property in
our nation arose from a new state of society. These lawyers
could never develope its nature by wild analogies, nor dis-
cover it in any common-law right ; for our common law,
composed of immemorial customs, could never have had in
its contemplation an object which could not have existed in
barbarous periods. Literature, in its enlarged spirit, certainly
never entered into the thoughts or attention of our rude an-
cestors. All their views were bounded by the necessaries of
life ; and as j^et they had no conception of the impalpable,
invisible, yet sovereign dominion of the human mind — enough
for our rough heroes was that of the seas ! Before the reign
of Henry VIII. great authors composed occasionally a book
in Latin, which none but other great authors cared for, and
which the people could not read. In the reign of ElizalDeth,
BoGER AscHAM appeared — one of those men of genius born
to create a new era in the history of their nation. The first
English author who may be regarded as the founder of our
'prose style was Roger Ascham, the venerable parent of our
native literature. At a time when our scholars affected to
contemn the vernacular idiom, and in their Latin works were
losing their better fame, that of being understood by all their
countrymen, Ascham boldly avowed the design of setting an
example, in his own words, to speak as the commoj^
PEOPLE, to thitstk AS WISE MEis". His pristine EngUsh is
still forcible without pedantry, and still beautiful without
ornament.* The illustrious Bacon condescended to follow
this new example in the most popular of his works. This
change in our literature was like a revelation ; these men
taught us our language in books. We became a reading
people ; and then the demand for books naturally produced
a new order of authors, who traded in literature. It was
then, so early as in the Elizabethan age, that literary property
may be said to derive its obscure origin in this nation, lb
was protected in an indirect manner by the licensers of the
press ; for although that was a mere political institution, only
designed to prevent seditious and irreligious publications, yet,
as no book could be printed without a licence, there was
honour enough in the licensers not to allow other publishers
* See "Amenities of Literature" for an account of this author.
c2
20 Calamities of Authors,
to infringe on the privilege granted to the first claimant. In
Queen Anne's time, when the office of licensers was extin-
guished, a more liberal genius was rising in the nation, and
literary property received a more definite and a more power-
ful protection. A limited term was granted to every author
to reap the fruits of his labours ; and Lord Hardwicke pro-
nounced this statute " a universal patent for authors." Yet,
subsequently, the subject of literary property involved dis-
cussion ; even at so late a period as in 1769 it was still to be
litigated. It was then granted that originally an author had
at common law a property in his work, but that the act of
Anne took away all copyright after the expiration of the
terms it permitted.
As the matter now stands, let us address an arithmetical
age — but my pen hesitates to bring down my subject to an
argument fitted to "these coster-monger times." *r On the
present principle of literary property, it results that an author
disposes of a leasehold property of twenty-eight years, often
for less than the price of one year's purchase l^J How many
living authors are the sad witnesses of this fact, who, like so
many Esaus, have sold their inheritance for a meal ! I leave
the whole school of Adam Smith to calm their calculating
emotions concerning " that unprosperous race of men" (some-
times this master-seer calls them "unproductive") "com-
monly called men oj letters,^' who are pretty much in the
situation which lawyers and physicians would be in, were
these, as he tells us, in that state when " a scholar and a
heggar seem to have been very nearly synonymous terms'' —
and this melancholy fact that man of genius discovered,
without the feather of his pen brushing away a tear from
his lid — without one spontaneous and indignant groan !
Authors may exclaim, " we ask for justice, not charity.'*
They would not need to require any favour, nor claim any
other than that protection which an enlightened government,
in its wisdom and its justice, must bestow. They would
leave to the public disposition the sole appreciation of their
works ; their book must make its own fortune ; a bad work
may be cried up, and a good work may be cried down ;
* A. coster- monger, or Costard-monger, is a dealer in apples, which are
so called because they are shaped like a costard, i. e. a man's head.
Steevens. — Johnson explains the phrase eloquently : "In these times wbea
the prevalence of trade has produced that meanness, that rates the merit
of everything by money."
The Case of Authors stated. 21
but Faction will soon lose its voice, and Truth acquire
one. The cause we are pleading is not the calamities of
indifferent writers, but of those whose utility or whose
genius long survives that limited term which has been
so hardly wrenched from the penurious hand of verbal
lawyers. Every lover of literature, and every votary of
humanity has long felt indignant at that sordid state and
all those secret sorrows to which men of the finest genius, or
of sublime industry, are reduced and degraded in society.
Johnson himself, who rejected that perpetuity of literary
property which some enthusiasts seemed to claim at the
time the subject was undergoing the discussion of the
judges, is, however, for extending the copyright to a cen-
tury. Could authors secure this, their natural right, litera-
ture would acquire a permanent and a nobler reward; for
great authors would then be distinguished by the very profits
they would receive from that obscure multitude whose com-
mon disgraces they frequently participate, notwithstanding
the superiority of their own genius. Johnson himself will
serve as a proof of the incompetent remuneration of literary
property. He undertook and he performed an Herculean
labour, which employed him so many 3'-ears that the price
he obtained was exhausted before the work was concluded —
the wages did not even last as long as the labour ! (Where,
then, is the author to look forward, when such works are
undertaken, for a provision for his family, or for his future
existence? It would naturally arise from the work itself,
were authors not the most ill-treated and oppressed class of
the communityV| The daughter of Milton need not have
craved the alms'^of the admirers of her father, if the right of
authors had been better protected ; his own " Paradise Lost"
had then been her better portion and her most honourable
inheritance. The children of BuiiNS would have required no
subscriptions ; that annual tribute which the public pay to
the genius of their parent was their due, and would have been
their fortune.
futhors now submit to have a shorter life than their own
)rity. While the book markets of Europe are supplied
with the writings of EngHsh authors, and they have a wider
diffusion in America than at home, it seems a national ingrati-
sude to limit the existence of works for their authors to a
short number of years, and then to seize on their possession
for ever.
22
THE SUFFERINGS OF AUTHORS.
The natural rights and 'properties of authoes not having
been sufficiently protected, they are defrauded, not indeed of
their fame, though they may not always live to witness it,
but of their uninterrupted profits, which might save them
from their frequent degradation in society. That act of
Anne which confers on them some right of property, ac-
knowledges that works of learned men have been carried on
"too often to the ruin of them and their families."
Hence we trace a literary calamity which the public
endure in those " Authors by Profession," who, finding often
too late in life that it is the worst profession, are not scru-
pulous to live by some means or other. " I must live," cried
one of the brotherhood, shrugging his shoulders in his
misery, and almost blushing for a libel he had just printed —
*' I do not see the necessity," was the dignified reply. Trade
was certainly not the origin of authorship. Most of our
great authors have written from a more impetuous impulse
than that of a mechanic ; urged by a loftier motive than that
of humouring the popular taste, they have not lowered
themselves by writing down to the public, but have raised
the pubHc to them. Untasked, they composed at propitious
intervals ; and feehng, not labour, was in their last, as in
their first page.
When we became a reading people, books were to be
suited to popular tastes, and then that trade was opened that
leads to the workhouse. A new race sprang up, that, like
Ascham, "spoke as the common people;" but would not,
like Ascham, "think as wise men." The founders of
" Authors by Profession" appear as far back as in the Eliza-
bethan age. Then there were some roguish wits, who, taking
advantage of the public humour, and yielding their principle
to their pen, lived to write, and wrote to live ; loose livers
and loose writers ! — like Autolycus, they ran to the fair, with
baskets of hasty manufactures, fit for clowns and maidens.*
* An abundance of these amusing tracts eagerly bought up in their day,
but -which came in the following generation to the ballad-stalls, are in the
present enshrined in the cabinets of the curious. Such are the revolutions
of literature ! [It is by no means uncommon to find them realise sums at
the rate of a guinea a page ; but it is to be solely attributed to their extreme
rarity ; for in many instances the reprints of such tracts are worthless,]
The Svfferings of Authors, 23
Even then flourished the craft of authorship, and the
mysteries of bookseUing. Egbert G-reene, the master-wit,
wrote "The Art of Coney-catching," or Cheatery, in which
he Was an adept ; he died of a surfeit of Rhenish and pickled
herrings, at a fatal banquet of authors ; — and left as his
legacy among the "Authors by Profession" " A Grroatsworth
of Wit, bought with a Million of Repentance." One died of
another kind of surfeit. Another was assassinated in a
brothel. But the list of the calamities of all these worthies
have as great variety as those of the Seven Champions.*
Nor were the stationers, or book-venders, as the publishers of
books were first designated, at a fault in the mysteries of
"coney-catching." Deceptive and vaunting title-pages were
practised to such excess, that Tom Nash, an " Author by
Profession," never fastidiously modest, blushed at the title of
his " Pierce Pennilesse," which the publisher had flourished
in the first edition, like " a tedious mountebank." The
booksellers forged great names to recommend their works, and
passed ofl" in currency their base metal stamped with a roy^
head. "It was an usual thing in those days," says honest
Anthony Wood, " to set a great name to a book or books, by
the sharking booksellers or snivelling writers, to get bread."
Such authors as tliese are unfortunate, before they are cri-
minal ; they often tire out their youth before they discover
that "Author by Profession" is a denomination ridiculously
assumed, for it is none ! The first efforts of men of genius
are usually honourable ones ; but too often they suffer that
genius to be debased. Many who would have composed
history have turned voluminous party-writers ; many a noble
satirist has become a hungry libeller. Men who are starved
* Poverty and the gaol alternated with tavern carouses or the place of
honour among the wild young gallants at the playhouses. They were
gentlemen or beggars as daily circumstances ordained. When this was the
case with such authors as Greene, Peele, and Massinger, we need not
wonder at finding "a whole knot" of writers in infinitely worse plight, who
lived (or starved) by writing ballads and pamphlets on temporary subjects.
In a brief tract, called "The Downfall of Temporising Poets," published
1641, they are said to be *'an indifferent strong corporation, twenty-three of
you sufficient writers, besides Martin Parker," who was the great ballad and
pamphlet writer of the day. The shifts they were put to, and the difficul-
ties of their living, is denoted in the reply of one of the characters in this
tract, who on being asked if he has money, replies "Money? I wonder
where you ever see poets have money two days together ; I sold a copy last
night, and have spent the money j and now have another copy to sell, but
nobody will buy it."- Ed.
24 Calamities of Authors,
in society, liold to it but loosely. They are the children of
Nemesis ! they avenge themselves — and with the Satan of
Milton they exclaim,
Evil, be thou my good !
Never were their feelings more vehemently echoed than by
this Nash — the creature of genius, of famine, and despair.
He lived indeed in the age of Elizabeth, but writes as if he
had lived in our own. He proclaimed himself to the world
as Fierce Pennilesse, and on a retrospect of his literary life,
observes that he had " sat up late and rose early, contended
with the cold, and conversed with scarcitie ;" he says, " all
my labours turned to losse, — I was despised and neglected,
my paines not regarded, or slightly rewarded, and I myself, in
prime of my best wit, laid open to povertie. Whereupon I
accused my fortune, railed on my patrons, bit my pen, rent
my papers, and raged." — And then comes the after-reflection,
which so frequently provokes the anger of genius : " How
many base men that wanted those parts I had, enjoyed con-
tent at will, and had wealth at command ! I called to mind
a cobbler that was worth five hundred pounds ; an hostler
that had built a goodly inn ; a carman in a leather pilche that
had whipt a thousand pound out of his horse's tail — and have
I more than these ? thought I to myself ; am I better born ?
am I better brought up ? yea, and better favoured ! and yet
am I a beggar ? How am I crost, or whence is this curse ?
Even from hence, the men that should employ such as I am,
are enamoured of their own wits, though they be never so
scurvie ; that a scrivener is better paid than a scholar ; and
men of art must seek to live among cormorants, or be kept
under by dunces, who count it policy to keep them bare to
follow their books the better." And then, Nash thus utters
the cries of —
A DESPAIRING AUTHOR !
Why is't damnation to despair and die
When life is my true happiness' disease ?
My soul ! my soul ! thy safety makes me fly
The faulty means that might my pain appease ;
Divines and dying men may talk of hell ;
But in my heart her several torments dwell.
Ah worthless wit, to train me to this woe !
Deceitful arts that nourish discontent !
Ill thrive the folly that bewitch'd me so !
Vain thoughts, adieu ! for now I will repent ;
And yet my wants persuade me to proceed,
Since none take pity of a scholar's need ! —
A Mendicant Author. 25
Forgive me, God, although I curse my birth,
And ban the air wherein I breathe a wretch !
For misery hath daunted all my mirth —
"Without redress complains my careless verse,
And Midas' ears relent not at my moan !
In some far land will I my griefs rehearse,
'Mongst them that will be moved when I shall groan I
England, adieu ! the soil that brought me forth !
Adieu, unkinde ! where skill is nothing worth !
Such was the miserable cry of an " Author by Profession"
in the reign of Elizabeth. Nash not only renounces his
country in his despair — and hesitates on " the faulty means"
which have appeased the pangs of many of his unhappy bro-
thers, but he proves also the weakness of the moral principle
among these men of genius ; for he promises, if any Maecenas
will bind him by his bounty, he will do him " as much honour
as an}'- poet of my beardless years in England — but," he adds,
" if he be sent away with a flea in his ear, let him look that
I will rail on him soundly ; not for an hour or a day, while
the injury is fresh in my memory, but in some elaborate
polished poem, which I will leave to the world when I am
dead, to be a living image to times to come of his beggarly
parsimony." Poets might imagine that Chatteetoi^ had
written all this, about the time he struck a balance of his
profit and loss by the death of Beckford the Lord Mayor,
in which he concludes with " I am glad he is dead by
SI. Us. 6^."*
AND THE PATRONS OF FORMER TIMES.
It must be confessed, that before " Authors by Profession"
had fallen into the hands of the booksellers, they endured
peculiar grievances. They were pitiable retainers of some
* Chatterton had written a political essay for "The North Briton,"
which opened with the preluding flourish of " A spirited people freeing
themselves from insupportable slavery :" it was, however, though accepted,
not printed, on account of the Lord Mayor's death. The patriot thus cal-
culated the death of his great patron !
£ s. d.
Lost by his death in this Essay , . . 1 11 6
Gained in Elegies . .£2 2
in Essays . . 3 3
5 5
Am glad he is dead by . . . . £3 13 6
Sir Calamities of Authors,
great family. The miseries of such an author, and the inso-
lence and penuriousness of his patrons, who would not return
the poetry they liked and would not pay for, may be traced in
the eventful life of Thomas Chuechtaed, a poet of the age
of Elizabeth, one of those unfortunate men who have written
poetry all their days, and lived a long life to complete the
misfortune. His muse was so fertile, that his works pass all
enumeration. He courted numerous patrons, who valued the
poetry, while they left the poet to his own miserable contem-
plations. In a long catalogue of his works, which this poet
has himself given, he adds a few memoranda, as he proceeds,
a little ludicrous, but very melancholy. He wrote a book
which he could never afterwards recover from one of his
patrons, and adds, " all which book was in as good verse as
ever I made; an honourable knight dwelling in the Black
Friers can witness the same, because I read it unto him."
Another accorded him the same remuneration — on which he
adds, " An infinite number of other songs and sonnets given
where they cannot be recovered, nor purchase any favour
when they are craved." Still, however, he announces " Twelve
long Tales for Christmas, dedicated to twelve honourable
lords." Well might Churchyard write his own sad life, under
the title of " The Tragicall Discourse of the Haplesse Man's
Life."*
It will not be easy to parallel this pathetic description of
the wretched age of a poor neglected poet mourning over a
youth vainly spent.
High time it is to haste my carcase hence :
Youth stole away and felt no kind of joy,
And age he left in travail ever since ;
The wanton days that made me nice and coy
Were but a dream, a shadow, and a toy —
* This author, now little known but to the student of our rarer early
poets, was a native of Shrewsbury, and had served in the army. He wrote
a large number of poetical pieces, all now of the greatest rarity ; their
names have been preserved by that industi'ious antiquary Joseph Ritson, in
his Bibliograpkia Poetica, . The principal one was termed ' ' The Worthi-
ness of Wales," and is written in laudation of the Principality. He was
frequently employed to supply verses for Court Masques and Pageantry. He
composed " all the devises, pastimes, and plays at Norwich " when Queen
Elizabeth was entertained there ; as well as gratulatory verses to her at
Woodstock, He speaks of his mind as "never free from studie," and his
body "seldom void of toyle" — "and yet both of them neither brought
greate benefits to the life, nor blessing to the soule" he adds, in the words
of a man whose hope deferred has made his heart sick ! — Ed.
A Mendicant Author, 27
I look in glass, and find my cheeks so lean
That every hour I do but wish me dead ;
Now back bends down, and forwards falls the head,
And hollow eyes in wrinkled hrow doth shroud
As though two stars were creeping under cloud.
The lips wax cold, and look both pale and thin,
The teeth fall out as nutts forsook the shell,
The bare bald head but shows where hair hath been,
The lively joints wax weary, stiff, and still,
The ready tongue now falters in his tale ;
The courage quails as strength decays and goes. . . .
The thatcher hath a cottage poor you see :
The shepherd knows where he shall sleep at night ;
The daily drudge from cares can quiet be :
Thus fortune sends some rest to every wight ;
And I was born to house and land by right. . . .
Well, ere my breath my body do forsake
My spirit I bequeath to God above ;
My books, my scrawls, and songs that I did make,
I leave with friends that freely did me love. . . .
Now, friends, shake hands, I must be gone, my boys !
Our mirth takes end, our triumph all is done ;
Our tickling talk, our sports and merry toys
Do glide away like shadow of the sun.
Another comes when I my race have run,
Shall pass the time with you in better plight.
And find good cause of greater things to write.
Yet Churchyard was no contemptible bard ; he composed a
national poem, "The Worthiness of Wales," which has been
reprinted, and will be still dear to his " Fatherland," as the
Hollanders expressively denote their natal spot. He wrote in
the " Mirrour of Magistrates," the Life of Wolsey, which has
parts of great dignity ; and the Life of Jane Shore, which
was much noticed in his day, for a severe critic of the times ,
writes :
Hath not Shore's wife, although a light-skirt she,
Given him a chaste, long, lasting memorie ?
Churchyard, and the miseries of his poetical life, are alluded
to by Spenser. He is old Palemon in " Colin Clout's come
Home again." Spenser is supposed to describe this laborious
writer for half a century, whose melancholy pipe, in his old
age, may make the reader " rew :"
Yet he himself may rewed be more right,
That sung so long untill quite hoarse he grew.
28 Calamities of Authors,
His epitaph, preserved by Camden, is extremely instructive
to all poets, could epitaphs instruct them : —
Poverty and poetry his tomb doth inclose ;
Wherefore, good neighbours, be merry in prose.
It appears also by a confession of Tom Nash, that an
author would then, pressed by the res angusta domi, when
" the bottom of his purse was turned upward," submit to
compose pieces for gentlemen who aspired to authorship. He
tells us on some occasion, that he was then in the country
composing poetry for some country squire ; — and says, " I am
faine to let my plow stand still in the midst of a furrow,
to follow these Senior Fantasticos, to whose amorous vil-
lanellas* I prostitute my pen," and this, too, "twice or thrice
in a month ;" and he complains that it is " poverty which
alone maketh me so unconstant to my determined studies,
trudging from place to place to and fro, and prosecuting the
means to keep me from idlenesse." An author was then much
like a vagrant.
Even at a later period, in the reign of the literary James,
great authors were reduced to a state of mendicity, and lived
on alms, although their lives and their fortunes had been con-
sumed in forming national labours. The antiquary Stow^e
exhibits a striking example of the rewards conferred on such
valued authors. Stowe had devoted his life, and exhausted
his patrimony, in the study of English antiquities ; he had
travelled on foot throughout the kingdom, inspecting all mo-
numents of antiquity, and rescuing what he could fi'om the
dispersed libraries of the monasteries. His stupendous col-
lections, in his own handwriting, still exist, to provoke the
feeble industry of literary loiterers. He felt through life the
enthusiasm of study; and seated in his monkish library,
living with the dead more than with the living, he was still a
student of taste : for Spenser the poet visited the library of
Stowe ; and the first good edition of Chaucer was made so
chiefly by the labours of our author. Late in life, worn-out
with study and the cares of poverty, neglected by that proud
metropolis of which he had been the historian, his good-
humour did not desert him ; for being afflicted with shai-p
pains in his aged feet, he observed that " his affliction lay in
that part which formerly he had made so much use of."
* Villanellas^ or rather ** Villanescas, are properly country rustic
songs, but commonly taken for ingenious ones made in imitation of them."
— Pineda.
A Mendicant Author, 29
Many a mile had he wandered and much had he expended, for
those treasures of antiquities which had exhausted his for-
tune, and with which he had formed works of great puhHc
utihty. It was in his eightieth year that "Stowe at length
received a public acknowledgment of his services, which will
appear to us of a very extraordinary nature. He was so re-
duced in his circumstances that he petitioned James I. for a
licence to collect alms for himself! "as a recompense for his
labours and travel o^ forty -five years, in setting forth the
Chronicles of England, and eight years taken up in the Survey
of the Cities of London and Westminster, towards his relief now
in his old age ; having left his former means of living, and only
employing himself for the service and good of his country."
Letters-patent under the great seal were granted. After no
penurious commendations of Stowe's labours, he is permitted
" to gather the benevolence of well-disposed people within
this realm of England ; to ask, gather, and take the alms of
all our loving subjects." These letters-patent were to be
published by the clergy from their pulpits ; they produced so
little, that they were renewed for another twelvemonth : one
entire parish in the city contributed seven shillings and six-
pence ! Such, then, was the patronage received by Stowe, to
be a licensed beggar throughout the kingdom for one twelve-
month ! Such was the public remuneration of a man who
had been useful to his nation, but not to himself!
Such was the first age of Patronage, which branched out
in the last century into an age of Subscriptions, when an
author levied contributions before his work appeared ; a mode
which inundated our literature with a great portion of its
worthless volumes : of these the most remarkable are the
splendid publications of Richard Blome ; they may be called
fictitious works ; for they are only mutilated transcripts from
Camden and Speed, but richly ornamented, and pompously
printed, which tliis literary adventurer, said to have been a
gentleman, loaded the world with, by the aid of his sub-
scribers. Another age was that of Dedications,* when the
* This practice of dedications had indeed flourished before ; for authors
had even prefixed numerous dedications to the same work, or dedicated to
diiferent patrons the separate divisions. Fuller's "Church History" is
disgraced by the introduction of twelve title-pages, besides the general one ;
with as many particular dedications, and no less than fifty or sixty inscrip-
tions, addressed to benefactors ; for which he is severely censured by Heylin.
It was an expedient to procure dedication fees ; for publishing books by
iuhscrlption was an art not then discovered.
30 Calamities of Authors,
author was to lift his tiny patron to the sljies, in an inverse
ratio as he lowered himself, in this public exhibition. Some-
times the party haggled about the price;* or the statue,
while stepping into his niche, would turn round on the author
to assist his invention. A patron of Peter Motteux, dissa-
tisfied with Peter's colder temperament, composed the super-
lative dedication to himself, and completed the misery of the
author by subscribing it with Motteux's name If Worse
fared it when authors were the unlucky hawkers of their own
works ; of which I shall give a remarkable instance in Mtles
Dayies, a learned man maddened by want and indignation.
The subject before us exhibits one of the most singular
spectacles in these volumes ; that of a scholar of extensive
erudition, whose life seems to have passed in the study of
languages and the sciences, while his faculties appear to have
been disordered from the simplicity of his nature, and driven
to madness by indigence and insult. He formed the wild re-
solution of becoming a mendicant author, the hawker of his
own works ; and by this mode endured all the aggravated
sufferings, the great and the petty insults of all ranks of society,
* The price of the dedication of a play was even fixed, from five to ten
guineas, from the Revolution to the time of George I., when it rose to
twenty — but sometimes a bargain was to be struck — when the author and
the play were alike indifferent. Even on these terms could vanity be
gratified with the coarse luxury of panegyric, of which every one knew the
price.
+ This circumstance was so notorious at the time, that it occasioned a
poetical satire in a dialogue between Motteux and his patron Henningham
— preserved in that vast flower-bed or dunghill, for it is both, of " Poems
on Affairs of State," vol. ii. 251. The patron, in his zeal to omit no pos-
sible distinction that could attach to him, had given one circumstance
which no one but himself could have known, and which he thus regrets :
" PATRON.
I must confess I was to blame
That one particular to name ;
The rest could never have been known,
/ made the style so like thy own.
POET.
I beg your pardon, Sir, for that t
PATRON.
Why d e what would you be at ?
/ wHt heloiv myself, you sot !
Avoiding figures, tropes, what not j
For fear I should my fancy raise
Above the level of thyplaysT
A Mendicant Author. 31
and even sometimes from men of learning themselves, who
denied a mendicant author the sympathy of a brother.
Myles Dayies and his works are imperfectly known to
the most curious of our literary collectors. His name has
scarcely reached a few ; the author and his works are equally
extraordinary, and claim a right to be preserved in this trea-
tise on the "Calamities of Authors."
Our author commenced printing a work, difficult, from its
miscellaneous character, to describe ; of which the volumes
appeared at different periods. The early and the most valuable
volumes were the first and second ; they are a kind of biblio-
graphical, biographical, and critical work, on English Authors.
They all bear a general title of " Athense Britannicse."*
Collectors have sometimes met with a ver}-- curious volume,
entitled " Icon Libellorum," and sometimes the same book,
under another title — "A Critical History of Pamphlets."
This rare book forms .the first volume of the " Athense Bri-
tannicse." The author was Myles Davies, whose biography is
quite unknown: he may now be his own biographer. He
was a Welsh clergyman, a vehement foe to Popery, Arianism,
and Socinianism, of the most fervent loyalty to George I. and
the Hanoverian succession ; a scholar, skilled in Greek and
Latin, and in all the modern languages. Quitting his native
spot with political disgust, he changed his character in the
metropolis, for he subscribes himself " Counsellor-at-Law."
In an evil hour he commenced author, not only surrounded
by his books, but with the more urgent companions of a wife
* "Athenm Britannicce, or a Critical History of the Oxford aud Cam-
bridge Writers and Writings, with those of the Dissenters and Romanists,
as well as other Authors and Worthies, both Domestic and Foreign, both
Ancient and Modern. Together with an occasional freedom of thought, in
criticising and comparing the parallel qualifications of the most eminent
authors and their performances, both in MS. and print, both at home and
abroad. By M. D. London, 1716." On the first volume of this series. Dr.
Farmer, a bloodhound of unfailing scent in curious and obscure English
books, has written ou the leaf " This is the only copy I have met with."
Even the great bibliographer, Baker, of Cambridge, never met but with
three volumes (the edition .at the British Museum is in seven), sent him as
a great curiosity by the Earl of Oxford, and now deposited in his collection
at St. John's College. Baker has written this memorandum in the first
volume : '* Few copies were printed, so the work has become scarce, and
for that reason will be valued. The book in the greatest part is borrowed
from modern historians, but yet contains some things more uncommon, and
not easily to be met with." How superlatively rare must be the English
volumes which the eyes of Farmer and Baker never lighted on !
82 Calamities of Authors.
and family; and with that childhke simplicity which some-
times marks the mind of a retired scholar, we perceive him
imagining that his immense reading would prove a source,
not easily exhausted, for their subsistence.
From the first volumes of his series much curious literary
history may be extracted, amidst the loose and wandering
elements of this literary chaos. In his dedication to the
Prince he professes " to represent writers and writings in a
catoptrick view."
The preface to the second volume opens his plan ; and no-
thing as yet indicates those rambling humours which his sub-
sequent labours exhibit. \»
A.S he proceeded in forming these volumes, I suspect, either
that his mind became a little disordered, or that he discovered
that mere literature found but penurious patrons in "the
Few;" for, attempting to gain over all classes of society, he
varied his investigations, and courted attention, by writing
on law, physic, divinity, as well as literary topics. By his
account —
"The avarice of booksellers, and the stinginess of hard-
hearted patrons, had driven him into a cursed company of
door-keeping herds, to meet the irrational brutality of those
uneducated mischievous animals called footmen, house-porters,
poetasters, mumpers, apothecaries, attorneys, and such like
beasts of prey," who were, Hke himself, sometimes barred up
for hours in the menagerie of a great man's antechamber.
In his addresses to Drs. Mead and Freind, he declares — " My
misfortunes drive me to publish my writings for a poor live-
lihood; and nothing but the utmost necessit}'- could make
any man in his senses to endeavour at it, in a method so
burthensome to the modesty and education of a scholar."
In French he dedicates to George I. ; and in the Harleian
MSS. I discovered a long letter to the Earl of Oxford, by our
author, in French, with a Latin ode. Never was more inno-
cent bribery proffered to a minister ! He composed what he
calls Strictures Pindaricce on the " Mughouses," then poli-
tical clubs ;* celebrates English authors in the same odes,
* These clubs are described inMacky's "Journey through England," 1724.
He says they were formed to uphold the Royalist party on the accession of
King George I. " This induced a set of gentlemen to establish Mughouses
in all the corners of this gi-eat city, for well-affected tradesmen to meet and
keep up the spirit of loyalty to the Protestant succession," and to be ready
to join their forces for the suppression of the other party. "Many an
encounter they had, till at last the Parliament was obliged by a law to put
A Mendicant Author, 33
and inserts a political Latin drama, called " Pallas Anglicana."
Maevius and Bavius were never more indefatigable ! The
author's intellect gradually discovers its confusion amidst the
loud cries of penury and despair.
To paint the distresses of an author soliciting alms for a
book which he presents — and which, whatever may be its
value, comes at least as an evidence that the suppUant is a
learned man — is a case so uncommon, that the invention of
the novelist seems necessary to fill up the picture. But
Mvles Davies is an artist in his own simple narrative.
Our author has given the names of several of his unwilling
customers : —
" Those squeeze-farthing and hoard-penny ignoramus doc-
tors, with several great personages who formed excuses for
not accepting my books ; or they would receive them, but
give nothing for them ; or else deny they had them, or re-
membered anything of them ; and so gave me nothing for
my last present of books, though they kept them gratis et
ingratiis.
" But his Grace of the Dutch extraction in Holland (said
to be akin to Mynheer Vander B — nek) had a peculiar grace
in receiving my present of books and odes, which, being
bundled up together with a letter and ode upon his Graceship,
and carried in by his porter, I was bid to call for an answer
five years hence. I asked the porter what he meant by that ?
I suppose, said he, four or five days hence ; but it proved five
or six months after, before I could get any answer, though I
had writ five or six letters in French with fresh odes upon
his Graceship, and an account where I lived, and what noble-
men had accepted of my present. I attended about the door
three or four times a week all that time constantly from
-^ twelve to four or five o'clock in the evening; and walking
under the fore windows of the parlours, once that time his
and her Grace came after dinner to stare at me, with open
an end to this city strife, which, had this good effect, that upon the pulling
down of the Mughouse in Salisbury Court, for which some boys were
hanged on this act, the city has not been troubled with them since." It
was the custom in these houses to allow no other drink but ale to be con-
sumed, which was brought in mugs of earthenware ; a chairman was elected,
and he called on the members of the company for songs, which were gene-
rally party ballads of a strongly-worded kind, as may be seen in the small
collection printed in 1716, entitled " A Collection of State Songs, Poems,
&c., published since the Rebellion, and sung in the several Mughouses in
the cities of London and Westminster." — Ed.
I)
34 Calamities of Authors,
windows and shut mouths, but filled with fair water, which
they spouted with so much dexterity that they twisted the
water through their teeth and mouth-skrew, to flash near my
face, and yet just to miss me, though my nose could not well
miss the natural flavour of the orange-water showering so
very near me. Her Grace began the water- work, but not very
gracefully, especially for an English lady of her description,
airs, and qualities, to make a stranger her spitting-post, who
had been guilty of no other offence than to offer her husband
some writings. — His Grace followed, yet first stood looking so
wistfully towards me, that I verily thought he had a mind to
throw me a guinea or two for all these indignities, and two or
three months' then sleeveless waiting upon him — and accord-
ingly 1 advanced to address his Grace to remember the poor
author ; but, instead of an answer, he immediately undams
his mouth, out fly whole showers of lymphatic rockets, which
had like to have put out my mortal eyes."
Still he was not disheartened, and still applied for his
bundle of books, which were returned to him at length un-
opened, with "half a guinea upon top of the cargo," and
" with a desire to receive no more. I plucked up courage,
murmuring within myself —
* Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito.' "
He sarcastically observes,
" As I was still jogging on homewards, I thought that a
great many were called their Graces, not for any grace or
favour they had truly deserved with God or man, but for the
same reason of contraries, that the Parcce or Destinies, were
so called, because they spared none, or were not truly the
Parcce, quia nonfarcehantr
Our indigent and indignant author, by the faithfulness of
his representations, mingles with his anger some ludicrous
scenes of literary mendicity.
" I can't choose (now I am upon the fatal subject) but
make one observation or two more upon the various rencon-
tres and adventures I met withall, in presenting my books to
those who were likely to accept of them for their own in-
formation, or for that of helping a poor scholar, or for their
own vanity or ostentation.
" Some parsons would hollow to raise the whole house and
posse of the domestics to raise a poor crown ; at last all that
flutter ends in sending Jack or Tom out to change a guinea,
Cowley — of his Melancholy. 35
and then 'tis reckoned over half-a-dozen times before the
fatal crown can be picked out, which must be taken as it is
given, with all the parade of almsgiving, and so to be re-
ceived with all the active and passive ceremonial of mendica-
tion and alms-receiving — as if the books, printing and paper,
were worth nothing at all, and as if it were the greatest
charity for them to touch them or let them be in the house ;
* For I shall never read them,' says one of the five-shilling-
piece chaps ; ' I have no time to look in them,' says another ;
' 'Tis so much money lost,' says a grave dean ; ' My eyes
being so bad,' said a bishop, ' that I can scarce read at all.'
' What do you want with me ?' said another ; ' Sir, I pre-
sented you the other day with my AtherKB Britannicw, being
the last part published.' ' I don't want books, take them
again ; I don't understand what they mean.' ' The title is
very plain,' said I, 'and they are writ mostly in English.'
* I'll give you a crown for both the volumes.' ' They stand
me, sir, in more than that, and 'tis for a bare subsistence I
present or sell them ; how shall I live ?' ' I care not a far-
thing for that ; live or die, 'tis all one to me.' ' Damn my
master !' said Jack, ' 'twas but last night he was commend-
ing your books and your learning to the skies ; and now he
would not care if you were starving before his eyes ; nay, he
often makes game at your clothes, though he thinks you the
greatest scholar in England.' "
Such was the life of a learned mendicant author ! The
scenes which are here exhibited appear to have disordered an
intellect which had never been firm ; in vain our author at-
tempted to adapt his talents to all orders of men, still " To
the crazy ship all winds are contrary."
COWLEY.
OP HIS MELANCHOLY.
The mind of Cowle"? was beautiful, but a qiierukois ten*-
deraessin his nature breathes not only through his works,
but influenced his habits and his views of human affairs.
His temper and his genius would have opened to us, had not
the strange decision of Sprat and Clifford withdrawn that
full correspondence of his heart which he had carried on
many years. These— letters ,^.w£i:£L-g\ip.pressed beeause, as ^'''
5isho£ Sprat acknowledge§^^.*lili,.^tto-kind of prose MjkJ>
86 Calamities of Authors.
/<Towley was excellent ! They had a domestical plainness,
/ and a peculiar kind of familiarity." And then the florid
; writer runs off, that, " in letters, where the souls of men
■ should appear undressed, in that negligent habit they may be
> fit to be seen by one or two in a chamber, but not to go
abroad into the streets," A false criticism : which not only
has proved to be so since their time by Mason's " Memoirs
of Gray," but which these friends of Cowley might have
themselves perceived, if they had recollected that the Letteiis
of CicerQ.to AtticttS^.fprm the most delightful chronicles of
the heart — and the most authentic memorials of the man.
Peck obtained one letter of Cowley's, preserved by Johnson,
and it exhibits a remarkable picture of the miseries of his
poetical solitude. It is, perhaps, not too. late to inquire
whether this correspondence was destroyed as well as sup-
pressed ? Would Sprat and Clifford have burned what they
have told us they so much admired ?*
* My researches could never obtain more than one letter of Cowley's — it
is but an elegant trifle — returning thanks to his friend Evelyn for some
seeds and plants. *' The Garden " of Evelyn is immortalised in a delightful
Ode of Cowley's, as well as by Evelyn himself. Even in this small note
we may discover the touch of Cowley. The original is in Astle's collection.
MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY TO JOHN EVELYN, ESQ.
'^Barn Elms, March 23, 1663.
"Sir, — There is nothing more pleasant than to see kindness in a person for
whom we have great esteem and respect : no, not the sight of your garden
in May, or even the having such an one ; which makes me more obliged
to return you my most humble thanks for the testimonies I hav-e.Jatdy
received of you, both by your letter and your presents. I have already
sowed such of your seeds as I thought most proper upon a hot -bed ; but
cannot find in all my books a catalogue of these plants which require that
culture, nor of such as must be set in pots ; which defecLS, and all others,
I hope shortly to see supplied, as I hope shortly to see your work of Horti-
iculture finished and published ; and long to be in all things your dieeijile,
M J jgim in all things now,
\ '* Sir, your most humble and most obedient Servant,
*'A. Cowley."
[Bam Elms, from whence this letter is dated, was the first country resi-
dence of Cowley. It liesi^;.on the banks of the Thames, and here the poet
was first seized with a fever, which obliged him to remove ; but he chose an
equally improper locality for a man of his temperament, in Chertsey, where
lie died from the effects of a severe cold.]
Such were the ordinary letters which passed between two men whom it
/"would be difficult to parallel for their elegant tastes and gentle dispositions.
I Evelyn's beautiful retreat at Sayes Court, at Deptford, is described by" a
I contemporary as "agiardeiiex^quisite and most boscareaquei, and, as it were,
•^ exemplar of his book of i'or^st-treea." It was the entertainment and
Cowley — of his Melancholy, 37
Fortunately for our literary sympathy, the fatal error of
these fastidious critics has been in some degree repaired by
the admirable genius himself whom they have injured.
When Cowley retreated from society, he determined to draw
up an apology for his conduct, and to have dedicated it to his
patron, Lord St. Albans. His death interrupted the entire
design ; but his Essays, which Pope so finely calls " the lan-
guage of his heart," are evidently parts of these precious
Confessions. All of Cowley's tenderest and undisguised
feelings have therefore not perished. These Essays now form
a species of composition in our language, a mixture of prose
and verse — the man with the poet — the self-painter has sat
to himself, and, with the utmost simplicity, has copied out
the image of his soul.
Why has this poet twice called himself tJie melancholy
Cowley ? He employed no poetical cheville^ for the metre of
a verse which his own feelings inspired.
Cowley, at the beginning of the Civil War, joined the
Eoyalists at Oxford ; followed the queen to Paris ; yielded his
days and his nights to an employment of the highest con-
fidence, that of deciphering the royal correspondence ; he
transacted their business, and, almost divorcing himself from
his neglected muse, he yielded up for them the tranquillity so
necessary to the existence of a poet. From his earliest days
he tells us how the poetic affections had stamped themselves
on his heart, " like letters cut into the bark of a young tree,
which, with the tree, will grow proportionably."
He describes his feelings at the court : —
" I saw plainly all the paint of that kind of life the nearer
I came to it — that beauty which I did not fall in love with
when, for aught I knew, it was real, was not like to bewitch or
wonder of the greatest men of those times, and inspired the following lines
of Cowley, to Evelyn and his lady, who excelled in the arts her husband
loved J for she designed the frontispiece to his version of Lucretius —
, "In books and gardens thou hast placed aright
/ (Things well which thou dost understand,
f And both dost mak( with thy laborious hand)
I Thju)J=JJ,eJumoceiMMiftU^ ;
* And in thy virtuous wife, where thou again dost meet
Both pleasures more refined and sweet j
Th^fairest garden -in her loaks>
X,,.,^ And in her ,pu»d the wieesfc^bookifib"
* A term the French apply to those botches which bad poets use in»
make out their metre.
88 Calamities of Authors.,
entice me when I saw it was adulterate. I met with seve-
ral great persons whom I Hked very well, but could not per-
ceive that any part of their greatness was to be liked or de-
sired. I was in a crowd of good company, in business of
great and honourable trust ; I eat at the best table, and en-
joyed the best conveniences that ought to be desired by a man
of my condition ; yet I could not abstain from renewing my
old schoolboy's wish, in a copy of verses to the same effect : —
Well then ! I now do plainly see,
This busie world and I shall ne'er agree !"
After several years' absence from his native country, at a
most critical period, he was sent over to mix with that
trusty band of loyalists, who, in secrecy and in silence, were
devoting themselves to the royal cause. Cowley was seized
on by the ruling powers. At this moment he published a-
preface to his works, which some of his party interpreted as
a relaxation of his loyalty. He has been fully defended.
Cowley, with all his delicacy of temper, wished sincerely to
retire from all parties; and saw enough among the fiery
zealots of his own, to grow disgusted even with Royalists.
His wish for retirement has been half censured as
cowardice by Johnson ; but there was a tenderness of feeling
which had ill-formed Cowley for the cunning of party in-
triguers, and the company of little villains. About this tame
he might have truly distinguished himself as " The melan-
choly Cowley."
I am only tracing his literary history for the purpose of
this work : but I cannot pass without noticing the fact, that
this abused man, whom his enemiies were calumniating, was
at this moment, under the disguise of a doctor of physic,
occupied hj the novel studies of botany and medicine ; and as
all science in the mind of the poet naturally becomes poetry,
he composed his books on plants in Latin verse.
At length came the Restoration, which the poet zealously
celebrated in his " Ode" on that occasion. Both Charles the
First and Second had promised to reward his fidehty with
the mastership of the Savoy ; but, Wood says, " he lost it by
certain persons enemies of the muses." Wood has said no
more; and none of Cowley's biographers have thrown any
light on the circumstance: perhaps we may discover this
literary calamity.
That Cowley caught no warmth from that promised sun-
Cowley — of his Melancholy. 39
shine which the new monarch was to scatter in prodigal
gaiety, has been distinctly told by the poet himself; his
muse, in " The Complaint," having reproached him thus : —
Thou young prodigal, who didst so loosely waste
Of all thy youthful years, the good estate —
Thou changeling then, bewitch'd with noise and show,
Wouldst into courts and cities from me go — •
Go, renegado, cast up thy account —
Behold the public storm is spent at last ;
The sovereign is toss'd at sea no more.
And thou, with all the noble company,
Art got at last to shore —
But whilst thy fellow-voyagers I see,
All march'd up to possess the promis'd land;
Thou still alone (alas !) dost gaping stand
Upon the naked beach, upon the barren sand.
But neglect was not all Cowley had to endure ; the royal
party seemed disposed to calumniate him. When Cowley was
young he had hastily compos&d the comedy of " The Guar-
dian ;" a piece which served the cause of lo3'alty. After the
Restoration, he rewrote it under the title of " Cutter of Cole-
man Street ;" a comedy which may still be read with equal
curiosity and interest : a spirited picture of the peculiar
characters which appeared at the Revolution. It was not only
ill received by a factio but by those vermin of a new court,
who, without merit tL ^selves, put in their claims, by crying
down those who, with great merit, are not in favour. All
these to a man accused the author of having written a satire
against the king's party. And this wretched party prevailed,
too long for the author's repose, but not for his fame.* Many
years afterwards this comedy became popular. Dryden, who
was present at the representation, tells us that Cowley
" received the news of his ill success not with so much firm-
ness as might have been expected from so great a man."
Cowley was in truth a great man, and a greatly injured man.
* This comedy was first presented very hurriedly for the amusement of
Piince Charles as he passed through Cambridge to York. Cowley himself
describes it, then, as " neither made nor acted, but rough-drawn by him,
and repeated by his scholars " for this temporary purpose. After the Restora-
tion he endeavoured to do more justice to his juvenile work, by remodelling
it, and producing it at the Duke of York's theatre. But as many of the
characters necessarily retained the features of the older play, and times had
changed ; it was easy to affix a false stigma to the poet's pictures of the old
Cavaliers ; and the play was universally condemned as a satire on the
Royalists. It was reproduced with success at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn
Fields, as long afterwards as the year 1730, — Ed.
40 Calamities of Authors,
His sensibility and delicacy of temper were of another texture
than Dryden's. What at that moment did Cowley expe-
rience, when he beheld himself neglected, calumniated, and,
in his last appeal to public favour, found himself still a victim
to a vile faction, who, to coui-t their common master, were
trampling on their honest brother ?
We shall find an unbroken chain of evidence, clearly de-
monstrating the agony of his literary feelings. The cynical
Wood tells us that, " not finding that preferment he expected,
while others for their money carried away most places, he
retired discontentd into Surrey." And his panegyrist, Sprat,
describes him as " weary of the vexations and formalities of
an active condition — he had been perplexed with a long com-
pliance with foreign manners. He was satiated with the
arts of a court, which sort of life, though his virtue made it
innocent to him, yet nothing could make it quiet. These
were the reasons that moved him to follow the violent incli-
nation of his own mind," &c. I doubt if either the sarcastic
antiquary or the rhetorical panegyrist have developed the
simple truth of Cowley's "violent inclination of his own
mind." He does it himself more openly in that beautiful
picture of an injured poet, in " The Complaint," an ode warm
with individual feeling, but which Johnson coldly passes over,
by telling us that " it met the usual fortune of complaints,
and seems to have excited more contempt than pity."
Thus the biographers of Cowley have told us nothing, and
the poet himself has probably not told us all. To these
calumnies respecting Cowley's comedy, raised up by those
whom Wood designates as " enemies of the muses," it would
appear that others were added of a deeper dye, and in malig-
nant whispers distilled into the ear of royalty. Cowley, in
an ode, had commemorated the genius of Brutus, with all the
enthusiasm of a votary of liberty. After the king's return,
when Cowley solicited some reward for his sufferings and
«ervices in the royal cause, the chancellor is said to have turned
m him with a severe countenance, saying, " Mr. Cowley, your
pardon is your reward !" It seems that ode was then considered
to be of a dangerous tendency among half the nation ; Brutus
would be the model of enthusiasts, who were sullenly bending
their neck under the yoke of royalty. Charles II. feared the
attempt of desperate men ; and he might have forgiven
Rochester a loose pasquinade, but not Cowley a solemn invo-
cation. This fact, then, is said to have been the true cause
Cowley — of his Melancholy, 41
of the despondency so prevalent in the latter poetry of " the
melancholy Cowley." And hence the indiscretion of the
muse, in a single flight, condemned her to a painful, rather
than a voluntary solitude ; and made the poet complain of
" barren praise " and " neglected verse."*
While this anecdote harmonises with better known facts, it
throws some light on the outcry raised against the comedy,
which seems to have been but an echo of some preceding one.
Cowley retreated into solitude, where he found none of the
agrestic charms of the landscapes of his muse. When in the
world. Sprat says, " he had never wanted for constant health
and strength of body ;" but, thrown into solitude, he carried
with him a wounded spirit — th6 Ode of Brutus and the con-
demnation of his comedy were the dark spirits that haunted his
cottage. Ill health soon succeeded low spirits — he pined in
dejection, and perished a victim of the finest and most injured
feelings.
But before we leave the melancholy Cowley^ he shall speak
the feelings, which here are not exaggerated. In this Chro-
nicle of Literary Calamity no passage ought to be more
memorable than the solemn confession of one of the most
amiable of men and poets.
Thus he expresses himself in the preface to his " Cutter of
Coleman Street."
" We are therefore wonderful wise men, and have a fine
business of it ; we, who spend our time in poetry. I do some-
times laugh, and am often angry with myself, when I think
on it ; and if I had a son inclined by nature to the same
folly, I believe I should bind him from it b}-- the strictest con-
jurations of a paternal blessing. For what can be more
ridiculous than to labour to give men delight, whilst they
labour, on their part, most earnestly to take offence ?"
And thus he closes the preface, in all the solemn expression
of injured feelings : — " This I do affirm, that from all which
I have written, I never received the least henejlt or the least
advantage ; but, on the contrary y have felt sometimes the effects
of malice and misfortune .'"
Cowley's ashes were deposited between those of Chaucer
and Spenser ; a marble monument was erected by a duke ;
and his eulogy was pronounced, on the day of his death, from
* The anecdote, probably little known, may be found in ** The Judgment
of Dr. Prideaux in Condemning the Murder of Julius Csesar by the Con-
spirators as a most villanous act, maintained," 1721, p. 41.
42 Calamities of Authors.
the lips of ro3'^alty. The learned wrote, and the tuneful
wept : well might the neglected bard, in his retirement, com-
pose an epitaph on himself, living there "entombed, though not
dead."
To this ambiguous state of existence he applies a conceit,
not inelegant, from the tenderness of its imagery :
Hie sparge flores, sparge breves rosas,
Nam vita gaudet mortua floribus ;
Herbisque odoratis corona
Vatis adhuc cinerem calentem.
Here scatter flowers and short-lived roses bring.
For life, though dead, enjoys the flowers of spring;
With breathing wreaths of fragrant herbs adorn
The yet warm embers in the poet's urn.
THE PAINS OP PASTIDIOUS EGOTISM.
I MUST place the author of " The Catalogue of Royal and
Noble Authors," who himself now ornaments that roll, among
those who have participated in the misfortunes of literature.
HoEACE Walpole was the inheritor of a name the most
popular in Europe ;* he moved in the higher circles of
society ; and fortune had never denied him the ample gratifi-
cation of his lively tastes in the elegant arts, and in cmnous
knowledge. These were particular advantages. But Horace
Walpole panted with a secret desire for literary celebrity ; a
full sense of his distinguished rank long suppressed the desire
of venturing the name he bore to the uncertain fame of an
author, and the caprice of vulgar critics. At length he pre-
tended to shun authors, and to slight the honours of author-
ship. The cause of this contempt has been attributed to the
perpetual consideration of his rank. But was this bitter con-
tempt of so early a date ? Was Horace Walpole a Socrates
before his time ? was he born that prodigy of indifierence, to
despise the secret object he languished to possess ? His early
associates were not only noblemen, but literary noblemen ;
and need he have been so petulantl}^ fastidious at bearing the
venerable title of author, when he saw Lyttleton, Chester-
* He was the youngest son of the celebrated minister, Sir Robert
Walpole.— Ed.
The Pains of Fastidious Egotism. 43
field, and other peers, proud of wearing the blue riband of
literature ? No ! it was after he had become an author that
he contemned authorship : and it was not the precocity of
his sagacity, but the maturity of his experience, that made
him willing enough to undervalue literary honours, which
were not sufficient to satisfy his desires.
Let us estimate the genius of Horace Walpole by analysing
his talents, and inquiring into the nature of his works.
His taste was highly polished ; his vivacity attained to
brilHancy ;* and his picturesque fancy, easily excited, was soon
extinguished ; his playful wit and keen irony were perpetually
exercised in his observations on life, and his memory was stored
with the most amusing knowledge, but much too lively to be
accurate ; for his studies were but his sports. But other
qualities of genius must distinguish the great author, and
even him who would occupy that leading rank in the literary
republic our author aspired to fill. He lived too much in
that class of society which is little favourable to genius ; he
exerted neither profound thinking, nor profound feeling ; and
too volatile to attain to the pathetic, that higher quality of
genius, he was so imbued with the petty elegancies of society
that every impression of grandeur in the human character was
deadened in the breast of the polished cynic.
Horace Walpole was not a man of genius, — his most pleas-
ing, if not his great talent, lay in letter- writing ; here he was
* In his letters there are uncommon instances of vivacity, whenever
pointed against authors. The following have not yet met the public eye.
What can be more maliciously pungent than this on Spence ? " As I know
Mr. J. Spence, I do not think I should have been so much delighted as Dr.
Kippis with reading his letters. He was a good-natured harmless little
soul, but more like a silver penny than a genius. It was a neat fiddle-
faddle bit of sterling, that had read good books, and kept good company ;
but was too trifling for use, and only fit to please a child." — On Dr. Nash's
first volume of ' Worcestershire ' : * ' It is a folio of prodigious corpulence,
and yet diy enough ; but it is finely dressed with many beads and views."
He characterises Pennant ; ''ITe is not one of our plodders (alluding to
Gough) ; rather the other extreme ; his corporal spirits (for I cannot call
them animal) do not allow him to digest anything. He gave a round jump
from ornithology to antiquity, and, as if they had any relation, thought he
understood everything that lay between them. The report of his being
disordered is not true ; he has been with me, and at least is as composed as
ever I saw him. " His literary correspondence with his friend Cole abounds
with this easy satirical criticism — he delighted to ridicule authors ! — as
well as to starve the miserable artists he so grudgingly paid. In the very
volumes he celebrated the arts, he disgraced them by his penuriousness ; so
that he loved to indulge his avarice at the expense of his vanity !
44 Calamities of Author's.
without a rival;* but he probably divined, when he conde-
scended to become an author, that something more was re-
quired than tlie talents he exactly possessed. In his latter
days he felt this more sensibly, which will appear in those
confessions which I have extracted from an unpublished cor-
respondence.
Conscious of possessing the talent which amuses, yet feel-
ing his deficient energies, he resolved to provide varioijs sub-
stitutes for genius itself; and to acquire reputation, if he could
not grasp at celebrity. He raised a printing-press at his
Gothic castle, by which means he rendered small editions of
his works valuable from their rarity, and much talked of, be-
cause seldom seen. That this is true, appears from the fol-
lowing extract from his unpublished correspondence with a
literary friend. It alludes to his " Anecdotes of Painting in
England," of which the first edition only consisted of 300
copies.
" Of my new fourth volume I printed 600 ; but, as they
can be had, I believe not a third part is sold. This is a very
plain lesson to me, that my editions sell for their curiosity,
and not for an}'^ merit in them — and so they would if I printed
Mother Goose's Tales, and but a few. If I am humbled as an
author, I may be vain as a printer ; and when one has nothing
else to be vain of, it is certainly very little worth while to be
proud of that."
There is a distinction between the author of great con-
nexions and the mere author. In the one case, the man may
give a temporary'- existence to his books ; but in the other, it
is the book which gives existence to the man.
Walpole's writings seem to be constructed on a certain
principle, by which he gave them a sudden, rather than a
lasting existence. In historical research our adventurer star-
tled the world by maintaining paradoxes which attacked the
* This opinion on Walpole's talent for letter- writing was published in
1812, many years before the public had tbe present collection of his letters ;
my prediction has been amply verified. He wrote a great number to
Beutley, the son of Dr. Bentley, who ornamented Gray's works with sojie
extraordinary designs. Walpole, who was always proud and capricious,
obsei'ves his friend Cole, broke with Bentley because he would bring his
wife with him to Strawberry-hill. He then asked Bentley for all his letters
back, but he would not in return give Bentley's own.
This whole correspondence abounded with literature, criticism, and wit
of the most original and brilliant composition. This is the opinion of no
friend, but an admirer, and a good judge ; for it was Bentley's own.
The Pains of Fastidious Egotism. 45
opinions, or changed the characters, established for centuries.
Singularity of opinion, vivacity of ridicule, and polished epi-
grams in prose, were the means by which Horace Walpole
sought distinction.
In his works of imagination, he felt he could not trust to
himself — the natural pathetic was utterly denied him. But
he had fancy and ingenuity ; he had recourse to the marvel-
lous in imagination on the principle he had adopted the para-
doxical in history. Thus, "The Castle of Otranto," and
" The Mysterious Mother," are the productions of ingenuity
rather than genius ; and display the miracles of art, rather
than the spontaneous creations of nature.
All his literary works, like the ornamented edifice he inha-
bited, were constructed on the same artificial principle ; an old
paper lodging-house, converted by the magician of taste into a
Grothic castle, full of scenic effects.*
" A Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors" was itself a
classification which only an idle amateur could have projected,
and only the most agreeable narrator of anecdotes could have
seasoned. These splendid scribblers are for the greater part
no authors at all.f
His attack on our peerless Sidney, whose fame was more
* This is the renowned Strawberry-hill, a villa still standing on the
banks of the Thames, between Teddington and Twickenham, but now
despoiled of the large collection of pictures, curiosities, and articles of vertu
so assiduously collected by Walpole during a long life. The ground on
which it stands was originally partially occupied by a small cottage, built
by a nobleman's coachman for a lodging-house, and occupied by a toy-
woman of the name of Chevenix. Hence Walpole says of it, in a letter to
Greneral Conway, "it is a little plaything house that I got out of Mrs.
Chevenix's shop, and is the prettiest bauble you ever saw." — Ei>.
+ Walpole's characters are not often to be relied on, witness his injustice
to Hogarth as a painter, and his insolent calumny of Charles I. His
literary opinions of James I. and of Sidney might have been written with-
out any acquaintance with the works he has so maliciously criticised. In
his account of Sidney he had silently passed over the "Defence of Poetry ;"
and in his second edition has written this avowal, that ' ' he had forgotten
it ; a proof that I at least did not think it sufficient foundation for so high
a character as he acquired." How heartless was the polished cynicism
which could dare to hazard this false criticism ! Nothing can be more im-
posing than his volatile and caustic criticisms on the works of James I., yet
he had probably never opened that fl>lio he so poignantly ridicules. He
doubts whether two pieces, " Tlie Prince's Cabala," and " The Duty of a
King in his Royal Office," were genuine productions of James I. The truth
is that both these works are nothing more than extracts printed with those
separate titles and drawn from the king's " Basilicon Doron." He had
probably neither read the extracts nor the original.
46 Calamities of Authors,
mature than his life, was formed on the same principle as his
" Historic Doubts" on Richard III. Horace Walpole was as
willing to vilify the truly great, as to beautify deformity ;
when he imagined that the fame he was destroying or confer-
ring, reflected back on himself. All these works were plants
of sickly delicacy, which could never endure the open air, and
only lived in the artificial atmosphere of a private collection.
Yet at times the flowers, and the planter of the flowers, were
roughly shaken by an uncivil breeze.
His " Anecdotes of Painting in England" is a most enter-
taining catalogue. He gives the feelings of the distinct eras
with regard to the arts ; yet his pride was never gratified
when he reflected that he had been writing the work of Vertue,
who had collected the materials, but could not have given the
philosophy. His great age and his good sense opened his
eyes on himself; and Horace Walpole seems to have judged
too contemptuously of Horace Walpole. The truth is, he
was mortified he had not and never could obtain a literary
peerage ; and he never respected the commoner's seat. At
these moments, too frequent in his life, he contemns authors,
and returns to sink back into all the self-complacency of aiis-
tocratic indifference.
This cold unfeeling disposition for literary men, this dis-
guised malice of envy, and this eternal vexation at his own
disappointments, — break forth in his correspondence with one
of those literary characters with whom he kept on terms
while they were kneeling to him in the humility of worship,
or moved about to fetch or to carry his little quests of curio-
sity in town or country.*
The following literary confessions illustrate this character: —
* It was such a person as Cole of Milton, his correspondent of forty years,
who lived at a distance, and obsequious to his wishes, always looking up to
him, though never with a parallel glance — with whom he did not quarrel,
though if Walpole could have read the private notes Cole made in his MSS.
at the time he was often writing the civilest letters of admiration, — even
Cole would have been cashiered from his correspondence, Walpole could
not endure equality in literary men. — Bentley observed to Cole, that
Walpole's pride and hauteur were excessive ; which betrayed themselves in
the treatment of Gray who had himself too much pride and spirit to for-
give it when matters were made up between them, and Walpole invited
Gray to Strawberry-hill. When Gray came, he, without any ceremony, told
Walpole that though he waited on him as civility required, yet by no
means would he ever be there on the terms of their fomner friendship^
which he had totally cancelled. — From Cole's MSS.
The Pains of Fastidious Egotism. 4^7
''June, 1778.
" I have taken a thorough dislike to being an author; and,
if it would not look like begging you to compliment one by
contradicting me, I would tell you what I am most seriously
convinced of, that I find what small share of parts I had grown
dulled. And when I perceive it myself, I may well believe that
others would not be less sharp-sighted. It is very natural ;
mine were spirits rather i\\2in parts; and as time has rebated the
one, it must surely destroy their resemblance to the other."
In another letter : —
" I set very little value on myself ; as a man, I am a very
faulty one ; and as an author, a very 7niddling one, which who-
ever thinks a comfortahle ranh, is not at all of my opinion.
Pray convince me that you think I mean sincerely, by not
answering me with a compliment. It is very weak to be
pleased with flattery; the stupidest of all delusions to beg it.
From you I should take it ill. We have known one another
almost forty years."
There were times when Horace Walpole's natural taste for
his studies returned with all the vigour of passion — but his
volatility and his desultory life perpetually scattered his
firmest resolutions into air. This conflict appears beautifully
described when the view of King's College, Cambridge, throws
his mind into meditation ; and the passion for study and seclu-
sion instantly kindled his emotions, lasting, perhaps, as long
as the letter which describes them occupied in writing.
''May 22, 1117.
" The beauty of King's College, Cambridge, now it is
restored, penetrated me with a visionary longing to be a monk
in it. Though my life has been passed in turbulent scenes,
in pleasures or other pastimes, and in much fashionable dissi-
pation, still, books, antiquity, and virtue kept hold of a
corner of my heart : and since necessity has forced me of late
years to be a man of business, my disposition tends to be a
recluse for what remains — but it will not be my lot ; and
though there is some excuse for the young doing what they
like, I doubt an old man should do nothing but what he
ought, and I hope doing one's duty is the best preparation for
death. Sitting with one's arms folded to think about it, is a
very long way for preparing for it. If Charles V. had resolved
to make some amends for his abominable ambition by doing
48 Calamities of Authors.
good (his duty as a king), there would have been infinitely
more merit than going to doze in a convent. One may avoid
actual guilt in a sequestered life, but the virtue of it is merely
negative ; the innocence is beautiful."
There had been moments when Horace Walpole even ex-
pressed the tenderest feehngs for fame; and the following
passage, written prior to the preceding ones, gives no indica-
tion of that contempt for literary fame, of which the close of
this character will exhibit an extraordinary instance.
This letter relates an affecting event — he had just returned
from seeing General Conway attacked by a paralytic stroke.
Shocked by his appearance, he writes —
" It is, perhaps, to vent my concern that I write. It has
operated such a revolution on my mind, as no time, at my
age, can efface. It has at once damped every pursuit which
my spirits had even now prevented me from being weaned
from, I mean of virtu. It is like a mortal distemper in my-
self ; for can amusements amuse, if there is but a glimpse, a
vision of outhving one's friends ? I have had dreams in
which I thought 1 wished for fame — it icas not certainly
posthumous fame at any distajice ; I feel, I feel it was con-
fined to the memory of those I love. It seems to me impos-
sible for a man who has no friends to do anything for fame —
and to me the first position in friendship is, to intend one's
friends should survive one — but it is not reasonable to oppress
you, who are suffering gout, with my melancholy ideas.
What I have said will tell you, what I hope so many years
have told you, that I am very constant and sincere to friends
of above forty years."
In a letter of a later date there is a remarkable confession,
which harmonises with those already given.
" My pursuits have always been light, trifling, and tended
to nothing but my casual amusement. I will not say, with-
out a little vain ambition of showing some parts, but never
with industry'' suflicient to make me apply to anything solid.
My studies, if they could be called so, and my productions,
were alike desultory. In my latter age I discovered the
futility both of my objects and writings — I felt how insig-
nificant is the reputation of an author of mediocrity ; and
that, being no genius, I only added one name more to a list
of writers; but had told the world nothing but what it
The Pains of Fastidious Egotism, 49
could as well be without. These reflections were the best
proofs of my sense ; and when I could see through my own
vanity, there is less wonder in my discovering that such
talents as I might have had are impaired at seventy-two."
Thus humbled was Horace Walpole to himself ! — there is
an intellectual dignity, which this man of wit and sense was
incapable of reaching — and it seems a retribution that the
scorner of true greatness should at length feel the poisoned
chalice return to his own lips. He who had contemned the
eminent men of former times, and quarrelled with and ridi-
culed every contemporary genius ; who had affected to laugli
at the literary fame he could not obtain, — at length came to
scorn himself ! and endured " the penal fires" of an author's
hell, in undervaluing his own works, the productions of a
long life !
The chagrin and disappointment of such an author were
never less carelessly concealed than in the following extraor-
dinary letter : —
HOEAOE WALPOLE TO
^^ Arlington Street, April 27, 1773.
" Mr. Gough wants to be introduced to me ! Indeed ! I
would see him, as he has been midwife to Masters ; but he is
so dull that he would only be troublesome — and besides, you
know I shun authors, and would never have been one my-
self, if it obliged me to keep such bad company. They are
always in earnest, and think their profession serious, and
dwell upon trifles, and reverence learning. I laugh at all
these things, and write only to laugh at them and divert
myself. None of us are authors of any consequence, and it
is the most ridiculous of all vanities to be vain of being me-
diocre. A page in a great author humbles me to the dust,
and the conversation of those that are not superior to myself
reminds me of what will be thought of myself. I blush to
flatter them, or to be flattered by them ; and should dread
letters being pubHshed some time or other, in which they
would relate our interviews, and we should appear like those
puny conceited witlings in Shenstone's and Hughes's corres-
pondence, who give themselves airs from being in possession
of the soil of Parnassus for the time being ; as peers are
proud because they enjoy the estates of great men who went
before them. Mr. Gough is very welcome to see Strawberry-
50 Calamities of Authors,
hill, or I would help him to any scraps in my possession that
would assist his publications, though he is one of those in-
dustrious who are only re-burying the dead — but I cannot be
acquainted with him ; it is contrary to my system and my
humour ; and besides I know nothing of barrows and Danish
entrenchments, and Saxon barbarisms and Phoenician cha-
racters — in short, I know nothing of those ages that knew
nothing — then how should I be of use to modern literati ?
All the Scotch metaphysicians have sent me their works. I
did not read one of them, because I do not understand what
is not understood by those that write about it ; and I did not
get acquainted with one of the writers. I should like to be
intimate with Mr. Anstey, even though he wrote Lord
Buckhorse, or with the author of the Heroic Epistle — I have
no thirst to know the rest of my contemporaries, from the
absurd bombast of Dr. Johnson down to the silly Dr. Gold-
smith, though the latter changeling has had bright gleams of
parts, and the former had sense, till he changed it for words,
and sold it for a pension. Don't think me scornful. Recol-
lect that I have seen Pope, and lived with Gray. — Adieu !"
Such a letter seems not to have been written by a literary
man — it is the babble of a thoughtless wit and a man of the
world. But it is worthy of him whose contracted heart
could never open to patronage or friendship. Prom such we
might expect the unfeeling observation in the " Anecdotes of
Painting," that " want of patronage is the apology for want
of genius. Milton and La Fontaine did not write in the
bask of court favour. A poet or a painter may want an
equipage or a villa, by wanting protection ; they can always
afford to buy ink and paper, colours and pencil. Mr. Ho-
garth has received no honours, but universal admiration."
^tronage, indeed, cannot convert dull men into men of
genius, but it maj^ preserve men of genius from becoming
dull men. It might have afforded Dryden that studious
leisure which he ever wanted, and which would have given
us not imperfect tragedies, and uncorrected poems, but the
regulated flights of a noble genius. It might have animated
Gainsborough to have created an English school in landscape,
which I have heard from those who knew him was his fa-
vourite yet neglected pursuilf:) But Wal])ole could insult that
genius, which he wanted the^generosity to protect !
The whole spirit of this man was penury. Enjoying an
Influence of a Bad Temper in Criticism. 51
affluent income he only appeared to patronise the arts which
amused his tastes, — employing the meanest artists, at reduced
prices, to ornament his own works, an economy which he
bitterly reprehends in others who were compelled to practise
it. He gratified his avarice at the expense of his vanity ;
the strongest passion must prevail. It was the simplicity of
childhood in Chatterton to imagine Horace Walpole could be
a patron — but it is melancholy to record that a slight pro-
tection might have saved such a youth. Gray abandoned
this man of birth and rank in the midst of their journey
through Europe ; Mason broke with him ; even his humble
correspondent Cole, this " friend of forty years," was often
sent away in dudgeon ; and he quarrelled with all the
authors and artists he had ever been acquainted with. The
Gothic castle at Strawberry-hill was rarely graced with
living genius — there the greatest was Horace Walpole him-
self; but he had been too long waiting to see realised a ma-
gical vision of his hopes, which resembled the prophetic
fiction of his own romance, that " the owner should grow
too large for his house." After many years, having dis-
covered that he still retained his mediocrity, he could never
pardon the presence of that preternatural being whom the
world considered a great man. — Such was the feeling which
dictated the close of the above letter ; Johnson and Gold-
smith were to be " scorned," since Pope and Gray were no
more within the reach of his envy and his fear.
INFLUENCE OF A BAD TEMPER IN CRITICISM.
TJNFRiEisrDLT to the literary character, some have imputed
the brutality of certain authors to their literary habits, when
it may be more truly said that they derived their literature
from their brutality. The spirit was envenomed before it
entered into the fierceness of literary controversy, and the
insanity was in the evil temper of the man before he roused
our notice by his ravings. Ritson, the late antiquary of
poetry (not to call him poetical), amazed the world by his
vituperative railing at two authors of the finest taste in
poetry, Warton and Percy ; he carried criticism, as the dis-
cerning few had first surmised, to insanity itself ; the cha-
racter before us only approached it.
Dennis attained to the ambiguous honour of being dis-
e2
52 Calamities of Authors.
tinguished as " The Critic," and he may yet instruct us how
the moral influences the literary character, and how a certain
talent that can never mature itself into genius, like the pale
fruit that hangs in the shade, ripens only into sourness.
As a critic in his own day, party for some time kept him
alive ; the art of criticism was a novelty at that period of
our literature. He flattered some great men, and he abused
three of the greatest ; this was one mode of securing popu-
larity ; because, by this contrivance, he divided the town into
two parties ;* and the irascibility and satire of Pope and
Swift were not less serviceable to him than the partial
panegyrics of Dryden and Congreve. Johnson revived him,
for his minute attack on Addison ; and Kippis, feebly volu-
minous, and with the cold affectation of candour, allows him
to occupy a place in our literary history too large in the eye
of Truth and Taste.
Let us say all the good we can of him, that we may not
be interrupted in a more important inquiry. Dennis once
urged fair pretensions to the office of critic. Some of his
"Original Letters," and particularly the "Eemarks on
Prince Arthur," written in his vigour, attain even to clas-
sical criticism.* Aristotle and Bossu lay open before him,
and he developes and sometimes illustrates their principles
with close reasoning. Passion had not yet blinded the 3'^oung
critic with rage ; and in that happy moment, Virgil occupied
his attention even more than Blackmore.
The prominent feature in his literary character was good
sense ; but in literature, though not in life, good sense is a
penmious virtue. Dennis could not be carried beyond the
cold line of a precedent, and before he ventured to be pleased,
he was compelled to look into Aristotle. His learning was
the bigotry of literature. It was ever Aristotle explained by
Dennis. But in the explanation of the obscm'e text of his
master, he was led into such frivolous distinctions, and taste-
less propositions, that his works deserve inspection, as ex-
amples of the manner of a true mechanical critic.
This blunted feeling of the mechanical critic was at first
* It is curious to observe that Kippis, who classifies with the pomp of
enumeration his heap of pamphlets, imagines that, as Blackmore's Epic is
consigned to oblivion, so likewise must be the criticism, which, however,
he confesses he could never meet with. An odd fate attends Dennis's
works : his criticism on a bad work ought to survive it, as good works have
survived his criticisms.
Influence of a Bad Temper in Criticism. 53
concealed from the world in the pomp of critical erudition ;
but when he trusted to himself, and, destitute of taste and
imagination, became a poet and a dramatist, the secret of the
E-oyal Midas was revealed. As his evil temper prevailed, he
forgot his learning, and lost the moderate sense which he
seemed once to have possessed. Rage, mahce, and dulness,
were the heavy residuum ; and now he much resembled that
congenial soul whom the ever- witty South compared to the
tailor's goose, which is at once hot and heavy.
Dennis was sent to Cambrido:e by his father, a saddler, who
imagined a genius had been born in the family. He travelled
in France and Italy, and on his return held in contempt every
pursuit but poetry and criticism. Re haunted the literary
coteries, and dropped into a galaxy of wits and noblemen.
At a time when our literature, like our politics, was divided
into two factions, Dennis enlisted himself under Dryden and
Congreve ;* and, as legitimate criticism was then an awful
novelty in the nation, the young critic, recent from the
Stagirite, soon became an important, and even a tremendous
spirit. Pope is said to have regarded his judgment ; and
Mallet, when young, tremblingly submitted a poem, to live
or die by his breath. One would have imagined that the
elegant studies he was cultivating, the views of life which had
opened on him, and the polished circle around, would have
influenced the grossness which was the natural growth of the
soil. But ungracious Nature kept fast hold of the mind of
Dennis !
His personal manners were characterised by their abrupt
violence. Once dining with Lord Halifax he became so im-
patient of contradiction, that he rushed out of the room,
overthrowing the sideboard. Inquiring on the next day how
he had behaved, Moyle observed, " You went away like the
devil, taking one corner of the house with you." The wits,
perhaps, then began to suspect their young Zoilus's dogmatism.
The actors refused to perform one of his tragedies to empty
houses, but they retained some excellent thunder which
* See in Dennis's "Original Letters" one to Tonson, entitled, "On the
conspiracy against the reputation of Mr. Dryden." It was in favour of
folly against ivisdom, weaJcness against power, &c. ; Pope against Dryden.
He closes with a well-turned period. *' Wherever genius runs through a
work, I forgive its faults ; and wherever that is wanting, no beauties can
touch me. Being struck by Mr. Dryden's genius, I have no eyes for his
errors ; and I have no eyes for his enemies' beauties, because I am not
struck by their genius."
54 Calamities of Authors,
Dennis had invented ; it rolled one night when Dennis was
in the pit, and it was applauded ! Suddenly starting up, he
cried to the audience, " By Gr — , they wont act my tragedy,
but they steal my thunder !" Thus, when reading Pope's
" Essay on Criticism," he came to the character of Appius,
he suddenly flung down the new poem, exclaiming, " By G — ,
he means me !" He is painted to the hfe.
Lo ! ApTphis reddens at each word you speak,
And stares tremendous with a threatening eye,
Like some fierce tyrant in old tapestry.
I complete this picture of Dennis with a very extraordinary
caricature, which Steele, in one of his papers of" The Theatre,"
has given of Dennis. I shall, however, disentangle the
threads, and pick out what I consider not to be caricature,
but resemblance.
" His motion is quick and sudden, turning on all sides, with
a suspicion of every object, as if he had done or feared some
extraordinary mischief. You see wickedness in his meaning,
but folly of countenance, that betrays him to be imfit for the
execution of it. He starts, stares, and looks round him. This
constant shuffle of haste without speed, makes the man thought
a little touched ; but the vacant look of his two eyes gives
you to understand that he could never run out of his wits,
which seemed not so much to be lost, as to want employment;
they are not so much astray, as they are a wool-gathering.
He has the face and surliness of a mastiff, which has often
saved him from being treated like a cur, till some more saga-
cious than ordinary found his nature, and used him accord-
ingly. Unhappy being ! terrible without, fearful within !
Not a wolf in sheep's clothing, but a sheep in a wolf's."*
However anger may have a little coloured this portrait, its
truth may be confirmed from a variety of sources. If Sallust,
with his accustomed penetration in characterising the violent
emotions of Catiline's restless mind, did not forget its indi-
* In the narrative of his frenzy (quoted p. 56), his personnel is thus
given. "His aspect was furious, his eyes were rather fiery than lively,
which he rolled about in an uncommon manner. He often opened his
mouth as if he would have uttered some matter of importance, but the
sound seemed lost inwardly. His beard was grown, which they told me he
would not sufier to be shaved, believing the modern dramatic poets had
corrupted all the barbers of the town to take the first opportunity of cutting
his throat. His eyebrows were grey, long, and grown together, which he
knit with indignation when anything was spoken, insomuch that he seemed
not to have smoothed his forehead for many years." — Ed.
Influence of a Bad Temper in Criticism, 55
cation in " his walk now quick and now slow," it may be
allowed to think that the character of Dennis was alike to be
detected in his habitual surliness.
Even in his old age — for our chain must not drop a link —
his native brutality never forsook him. Thomson and Pope
charitably supported the veteran Zoilus at a benefit play ;
and Savage, who had nothing but a verse to give, returned
them very poetical thanks in the name of Dennis. He was
then blind and old, but his critical ferocity had no old age ;
his surliness overcame every grateful sense, and he swore as
usual, " They could be no one's but that/oo? Savage's" — an
evidence of his sagacity and brutahty ! * This was, perhaps,
the last peevish snuff shaken from the dismal link of criti-
cism ; for, a few days after, was the redoubted Dennis num-
bered with the mighty dead.
He carried the same fierceness into his style, and commits
the same ludicrous extravagances in literary composition as
in his manners. Was Pope really sore at the Zoilian style ?
He has himself spared me the trouble of exhibiting Dennis's
gross personalities, by having collected them at the close of
the Dunciad — specimens which show how low false wit and
malignity can get to by hard pains. I will throw into the
note a curious illustration of the anti-poetical notions of a
mechanical critic, who has no wing to dip into the hues of
the imagination.f
* There is an epigram on Dennis by Savage, wliich Johnson has preserved
in his Life ; and I feel it to be a very correct likeness, although Johnson
censures Savage for writing an epigram against Dennis, while he was living
in great familiarity with the critic. Perhaps that was the happiest moment
to write the epigram. The anecdote in the text doubtless prompted " the
fool " to take this fair revenge and just chastisement. Savage has brought
out the features strongly, in these touches —
** Say what revenge on Dennis can be had,
Too dull for laughter, for reply too mad.
On one so poor you cannot take the law,
On one so old your sword you scorn to draw.
Uncaged then, let the harmless monster rage,
Secure in dulness, madness, want, and age !"
+ Dennis points his heavy cannon of criticism and thus bombards that
aerial edifice, tlie '* Rape of the Lock." He is inquiring into the nature of
poetical machinery, which, he oracularly pronounces, should be religious,
or allegorical, or political ; asserting the "Lutrin" of Boileau to be a trifle
only in appearance, covering the deep political design of reforming the
Popish Church ! — With the yard of criticism he takes measure of the
slender graces and tiny elegance of Pope's aerial machines, as *'less con-
siderable than the human persons, which is without precedent. Nothing
56 Calamities of Authors.
In life and in literature we meet with men who seem en-
dowed with an obliquity of understanding, yet active and
busy spirits ; but, as activity is only valuable in proportion
to the capacity that puts all in motion, so, when ill directed,
the intellect, warped by nature, only becomes more crooked
and fantastical. A kind of frantic enthusiasm breaks forth
in their actions and their language, and often they seem
ferocious when they are only foolish. We may thus account
for the manners and style of Dennis, pushed almost to the
verge of insanity, and acting on him very much like insanity
itself — a circumstance which the quick vengeance of wit seized
on, in the humorous " Narrative of Dr. Robert Norris, con-
cerning the Frenzy of Mr. John Dennis, an officer of the
Custom-house."*
can be so contemptible as tlie persons or so foolish as the understandings of
these hobgoblins. Ariel's speech is one continued impertinence. After he
has talked to them of black omens and dire disasters that threaten his
heroine, those bugbears dwindle to the breaking a piece of china, to stain-
ing a petticoat, the losing a fan, or a bottle of sal volatile — and what makes
Ariel's speech moi-e ridiculous is the place where it is spoken, on the sails
and cordage of Belinda's barge." And then he compares the Sylphs to the
Discord of Homer, whose feet are upon the earth, and head in the skies.
*' They are, indeed, beings so diminutive that they bear the same propor-
tion to the rest of the intellectual that Eels in vinegar do to the rest of
the material wox'ld ; the latter are only to be seen through microscopes, and
the former only through the false optics of a Rosicrucian understanding."
And finally, he decides that " these diminutive beings are only Sawney
(that is, Alexander Pope), taking the change ; for it is he, a little lump of
flesh, that talks, instead of a little spirit." Dennis's profound gravity con-
tributes an additional feature of the burlesque to these heroi-comic poems
themselves, only that Dennis cannot be playful, and will not be good-
humoured.
On the same tasteless principle he decides on the improbability of that
incident in the "Conscious Lovers" of Steele, raised by Bevil, who, having
received great obligations from his father, has promised not to marry with-
out his consent. On this Dennis, who rarely in his critical progress will
stir a foot without authority, quotes four formidable pages from Locke's
"Essay on Government," to prove that, at the age of discretion, a man is
free to dispose of his own actions ! One would imagine that Dennis was
arguing like a special pleader, rather than developing the involved action
of an affecting drama. Are there critics who would pronounce Dennis to be
a very sensible brother? It is here too he calls Steele "a twopenny
author, " alluding to the price of the * ' Tatlers " — but this cost Dennis dear !
* " The narrative of the frenzy of Mr. John Dennis," published in the
Miscellanies of Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot, and said to have been written
by Pope, is a grave banter on his usual violence. It professes to be the ac-
count of the physician who attended him at the request of a servant, who
desci-ibes the fii'st attack of his madness coming on when "a poor simple
child came to him from the printers ; the boy had no soonei entered the
Influence of a Bad Temper in Criticism. 57
It is curious to observe that Dennis, in the definition of
genius, describes himself ; he says — " Genius is caused by a
furious joy and pride of soul on the conception of an extra-
ordinary hint. Many men have their Jiints without their
motions of fury and pride of soul, because they want fire
enough to agitate their spirits ; and these we call cold writers.
Others, who have a great deal of fire, bat have not excellent
organs, feel the fore-mentioned motions, without the extra-
ordinary Jiints; and these we call fustian writers." His
motions and his hints, as he describes them, in regard to cold
or fustian writers, seem to include the extreme points of his
own genius.
Another feature strongly marks the race of the Dennises.
With a half-consciousness of deficient genius, they usually
idolize some chimera, by adopting some extravagant principle ;
and they consider themselves as original when they are only
absurd.
Dennis had ever some misshapen idol of the mind, which
he was perpetually caressing with the zeal of perverted judg-
ment or monstrous taste. Once his frenzy ran against the
Italian Opera ; and in his " Essay on Public Spirit," he
ascribes its decline to its unmanly warblings. I have seen
a long letter by Dennis to the Earl of Oxford, written to
congratulate his lordship on his accession to power, and the
high hopes of the nation ; but the greater part of the letter
rmis on the ItaUan Opera, while Dennis instructs the Minis-
ter that the national prosperity can never be effected while
this general corruption of the three kingdoms lies open !
Dennis has more than once recorded two material circum-
stances in the life of a true critic ; these are his ill-nature
and the public neglect.
" I make no doubt," says he, " that upon the perusal of
the critical part of these letters, the old accusation will be
brought against me, and there will be a fresh outcry among
thoughtless people that I am an ill-natured man^
He entertained exalted opinions of his own powers, and he
deeply felt their public neglect.
" While others," he says in his tracts, " have been too much,
room, but he ci-ied out ' the devil was come !' " The constant idiosyncrasy
he had that his writings against France and the Pope might endanger hia
liberty, is amusingly hit ofi ; "he perpetually starts and runs to the window
when any one knocks, crying out ' 'Sdeath ! a messenger from the French
King ; I shall die in the Bastile !' "—Ed.
58 Calamities of Authors.
encouraged, 1 have been too much neglected" — ^hia CsiToiinte
sjst^n, that religion gives principallj to great poetry its
spirit and enthusiasm, was an important point, which, he
says, ^ has been left to be treated by a perton who has the
honour of heing your lordship* s countryman — ^yoor lordship
knows that persons so much and so long oppressed as I have
been have lK«n always allowed to say things concerning them-
selves which in others might be offensive."
His vanity, we see, was equal to his vexation, and as he
grew old he became more enraged ; and, writing too often
without Aristotle or Locke by his side, he gave the town pure
Dennis, and almost ceased to be read. ** The oppression" of
which he complains might not be less imaginary than his
alarm, while a treaty was pending with France, that he should
be delivered up to the Grand Monarque for having written a
tragedy, which no one could read, against his majesty.
It is melancholy, but it is useful^ to record the mortifica-
tions of such authors. Dennis had, no doubt, laboured with
zeal which could never meet a reward ; and, perhaps, amid his
critical labours, he turned often with an aching heart finom
their barren contemplation to that of the tranquillity he
might have derived from an humbler avocation.
It was not literature, then, that made the mind coarse,
brutalising the habits and inflaming the style of Dennis. He
had thrown himself among the walks of genius, and aspired
to fix himself on a throne to which Xature had refused him
a Intimate claim. Wliat a lasting source of vexation and
rage, even for a long-lived patriarch of criticism !
Accustomed to suspend the scouige over the heads of the
first authors of the age, he could not sit at a table or enter
a coffee-house without exerting the despotism of a literary
dictator. How could the mind that had devoted itself to the
contemplation of masterpieces, only to reward its industry by
detailing to the public their human frailties, eiq>erienoe one
hour of amenity, one idea of grace, one generous impulse of
sensibility ?
But the poor critic himself at length fell, really more the
victim of his criticisms than the genius he had insulted.
Ha^dng incurred the public n^lect, the blind and helpless
Cacus in his den sunk fast into contempt, dragged on a life
of misery, and in his last days, scarcely vomiting his fire and
smoke, became the most pitiable creature, receiving the sdms
be craved from triumphant genius.
59
DKAPPODfTKD GEXIUS
CASn A TASA& BfBBCXUHl BT US ABSSK.
How the moral and liieniy duaaeter aze ledprocallj infla-
flieed, maj be tiaeed in the diaiaeler of a posonage peca-
liarlj a pp oftiie to these inqoines. This worthj of Ktraatiire
is Okatos Qestlst, who is lather known trafitionaDj than
histoneallj.* He is so oTerwhehned witii the echoed satire of
P<^, and his own extravagant conduct for manj years, that
I should not care to extricate him, had I not discorered a
feature in the character of Henler not jeA drawn, and con-
stituting no inferior calamitT among authors.
Henley stands in his '^ gQt tub" in the Dunciad; and a
portrait of him hangs in the picture-galloy of the Commen-
tary. Pope's TCfse and Warburton's noties are the pidde
and the bandages for any Egyptian mnmmy <^ dnlness, who
will lai^ as long as the pyrunid that endoees him. I shall
transcribe, for the reader's eonTeniaiee, the lines of Pope : —
Embffovifd with wm&wb \mmae, lo ! Beakj ttmaOs,
Tmui^ Us Toiee^ aadbalsKnigbiskuids;
How iwat HMone tncUes from kk toi^w !
H<nr Bveei Ae period^ Bcither and nor an^g!
SiaU bicak ihe henAea, Heaiej, with tk j wtaim,
Wldle SheriodE, Haie^ aad Gifam, prea^ in Tain.
Ok! great rertoter of- tike good old atage,
Fkeadber at onee^ aadZauqrof ^jagtlf
It win surprise when I declare that this buffoon was an
indeiatigaUe student, a proficient in all the learned languages,
an elegit poet^ and, withal, a wit of no inferior class. It
remains to ^scover why " the Preacher" became " the S^any."
Henley was of St. John's College, Cambridge, and was dis-
tinguished for the ardour and pertinacity of his studies ; he
gave CTident marks of genius. There is a letter of his to the
*8o]itdei8kiMnniof fkiaaasiilarmaii, lliat lEn Bibdin, ia kia ^oy
enriooa ** Biblioinaiiia,*' waa aot aUe to leeoOeet anj otfaor detaOatiiaa
tkoae ke teanaezibed frm Wailmrtoa'a '< ComncBimrj on tke Dandad."
la Mr. Hiekftf "Hiatoiy of haeateatun" a mote eopiooa aeeooat of
Scaler n^ be found ; to tkeir &eU aoneCkiiig ia keze added. It waa,
kovevo^ dificakto^eanafteraoezedkBtakarreat^iomcL To^eantkor
of tke '* Life of Bowyer,** and otkcr wvcka devoted to a
fitcnujr kistotj k aMire indekted, tkaa to tke labona of any otker
potazj. He ia tke Pioqter Mazdiaad of "l^wgHA fitemtozeu
"f ikia, fobaopB, mmeeeaaaiy to point out tkis alhnioB of Pope to oar
aadcBt mysterieM, where tke Ctersrg veve tke aeUm; among wkidi, tka
FiceorPaadkwaaiBtrodneed. (See "Corioaitieaof litccatnre.")
60 Calamities of Authors.
" Spectator," signed Peter de Quir, which ahounds with local
wit and quaint humour.* He had not attained his twenty-
second year when he published a poem, entitled " Esther,
Queen of Persia," t written amid graver studies; for three
years after, Henley, being M.A., published his " Complete
Linguist," consisting of grammars often languages.
The poem itself must not be passed by in silent notice.
It is preceded by a learned preface, in which the poet dis-
covers his intimate knowledge of oriental studies, with some
etymologies from the Persic, the Hebrew, and the Greek,
concerning the name and person of Ahasuerus, whom he
makes to be Xerxes. The close of this preface gives another
unexpected feature in the character of him who, the poet tells
us, was " embrowned with native bronze" — an unaffected
modesty ! Henley, alluding to a Greek paraphrase of Barnes,
censures his faults with acrimony, and even apologises for
them, by thus gracefully closing the preface : " These can
only be alleviated b}^ one plea, the youth of the author, which
is a circumstance I hope the candid will consider in favour of
the present writer!"
The poem is not destitute of imagination and harmony.
The pomp of the feast of Ahasuerus has all the luxuriance
of Asiatic splendour ; and the circumstances are selected with
some fancy.
The higher guests approach a room of state,
Where tissued couches all arouud were set
Labour'd with art ; o'er ivory tables thrown,
Embroider'd carpets fell in folds adown.
The bowers and gardens of the court were near,
And open lights indulged the breathing air.
Pillars of marble bore a silken sky,
"While cords of purple and fine linen tie
In silver rings, the azure canopy.
Distinct with diamond stars the blue was seen,
And earth and seas were feign'd in emerald green ;
A globe of gold, ray'd with a pointed crown,
Form'd in the midst almost a real sun.
Nor is Henley less skilful in the elegance of his sentiments,
* Specimens of Henley's style may be most easily referred to in the
"Spectator, " Nos. 94 and 518. The communication on punning, in the first ;
and that of judging character by exteriors, in the last ; are both attributed
to Henley. — Ed.
t The title is, "Esther, Queen of Persia, an historical Poem, in four
books ; by John Henley, B. A. of St. John's College, Cambridge. 1714."
Disappointed Genius, 61
and in his development of the human character. When Esther
is raised to the throne, the poet says —
And Esther, though in robes, is Esther still.
And then sublimely exclaims —
The heroic soul, amidst its bliss or woe,
Is never swell' d too high, nor sunk too low;
Stands, like its origin above the skies.
Ever the same great self, sedately wise ;
Collected and prepared in every stage
To scorn a courting world, or bear its rage.
But wit which the " Spectator" has sent down to pos-
terity, and poetry which gave the promise of excellence, did
not bound the noble ambition of Henley; ardent in more
important labours, he was perfecting himself in the learned
languages, and carrying on a correspondence with eminent
scholars.
He officiated as the master of the free-school at his native
town in Leicestershire, then in a declining state ; but he
introduced many original improvements. He established a
class for public elocution, recitations of the classics, orations,
&c. ; and arranged a method of enabling every scholar to give
an account of his studies without the necessity of consulting
others, or of being examined by particular questions. These
miracles are indeed a little apocryphal ; for they are drawn
from that pseudo-gospel of his life, of which I am inclined to
think he himself was the evangelist. His grammar of ten
languages was now finished ; and his genius felt that obscure
spot too circumscribed for his ambition. He parted from the
inhabitants with their regrets, and came to the metropolis
with thirty recommendatory letters.
Henley probably had formed those warm conceptions of
patronage in which youthful genius cradles its hopes. Till
1724 he appears, however, to have obtained only a small
living, and to have existed by translating and writing. Thus,
after persevering studies, many successful literary efforts, and
much heavy taskwork, Henley found he was but a hireling
author for the booksellers, and a salaried " Hyp-doctor" for
the minister; for he received a stipend for this periodical
paper, which was to cheer the spirits of the people by ridi-
culing the gloomy forebodings of Amhurst's " Craftsman."
About this time the complete metamorphosis of the studious
and ingenious John Henley began to branch out into its
grotesque figure ; and a curiosity in human nature was now
6'Z Calamities of Authors.
about to be opened to public inspection. "The Preacher*
was to personate " The Zany." His temper had becoma
brutal, and he had gradually contracted a ferocity and gross-
ness in his manners, which seem by no means to have been
indicated in his purer days. His youth was disgraced by no
irregularities — it was studious and honourable. But he was
now quick at vilifying the greatest characters ; and having a
perfect contempt for all mankind, was resolved to live by
making one half of the world laugh at the other. Such is the
direction which disappointed genius has too often given to
its talents.
He first aflPected oratory, and something of a theatrical
attitude in his sermons, which greatly attracted the populace ;
and he startled those preachers who had so long dozed over
their own sermons, and who now finding themselves with but
few slumberers about them, envied their Ciceronian brother,
Tuning his voice, and balancing bis hands.
It was alleged against Henley, that " he drew the people
too much from their parish churches, and was not so proper
for a London divine as a rural pastor." He was offered a
rustication, on a better living ; but Henley did not come from
the country to return to it.
There is a narrative of the life of Henley, which, sub-
scribed by another person's name, he himself inserted in his
" Oratory Transactions."* As he had to publish himself this
highly seasoned biographical morsel, and as his face was then
beginning to be "embrowned with bronze," he thus very
impudently and very ingeniously apologises for the pane-
gyric :—
" If any remark of the writer appears favourable to myself,
and be judged apocryphal, it may, however, weigh in the
opposite scale to some things less obligingly said of me ; false
praise being as pardonable as false reproach. "f
* Many of the rough drafts of his famed discourses delivered at the
Oratory are preserved in the library of the Guildhall, London. The
advertisements he drew up for the papers, announcing their subject,
are generally exceedingly whimsical, and calculated to attract popular
attention. — Ed.
+ This narrative is subscribed A. Welstede. Warburton maliciously
quotes it as a life of Henley, written by Welsted — doubtless designed to
lower the writer of that name, and one of the heroes of the Dunciad. The
public have long been deceived by this artifice ; the effect, I believe, of
Warburton's dishoaestv.
Disappointed Genius. 6Sl
In this narrative we are told, that when at college —
" He began to be uneasy that he had not the liberty of
thinking, without incurring the scandal of heterodoxy ; he
was impatient that systems of all sorts were put into his
hands ready carved out for him ; it shocked him to find that
he w^as commanded to believe against his judgment, and
resolved some time or other to enter his protest against any
person being bred like a slave, who is born an Englishman."
This is all very decorous, and nothing can be objected to the
first cry of this reforming patriot but a reasonable suspicion
of its truth. If these sentiments were really in his mind at
college, he deserves at least the praise of retention : for
fifteen j^ears were suffered to pass quietly without the patriotic
volcano giving even a distant rumbling of the sulphurous
matter concealed beneath. All that time had passed in the
contemplation of church preferment, with the aerial perspec-
tive lighted by a visionary mitre. But Henley grew indignant
at his disappointments, and suddenly resolved to reform " the
gross impostures and faults that have long prevailed in the
received institutions and estahlisTiments of knowledge and
religion " — simply meaning that he wished to pull down the
Church and the tfniversity !
But he was prudent before he was patriotic ; he at first
grafted himself on Whiston, adopting his opinions, and sent
some queries by which it appears that Henley, previous to
breaking with the church, was anxious to learn the power it
had to punish him. The Arian Whiston was himself, from
pure motives, sufi^ering expulsion from Cambridge, for refusing
his subscription to the Athanasian Creed ; he was a pious man,
and no buffoon, but a little crazed. Whiston afterwards dis-
covered the character of his correspondent, he then requested
the Bishop of London
" To summon Mr. Henley, the orator, whose vile history I
knew so well, to come and tell it to the church. But the
bishop said he could do nothing ; since which time Mr. Hen-
ley has gone on for about twenty years without control every
week, as an ecclesiastical mountebank, to abuse religion."
The most extraordinary project was now formed by Henley ;
he was to teach mankind universal knowledge from his lec-
tures, and primitive Christianity from his sermons. He took
apartments in Newport market, and opened his " Oratory."
He declared,
" He would teach more in one year than schools and uni-
64 Calamities of Authors,
verslties did in five, and write and study twelve hours a-day,
and yet appear as untouched by the yoke, as if he never
bore it."
In his " Idea of what is intended to be taught in the
Week-days^ Universal Academy ^"^ we may admire the fertility,
and sometimes the grandeur of his views. His lectures and
orations* are of a very different nature from what they are
imagined to be ; literary topics are treated with perspicuity
and with erudition, and there is something original in the
manner. They were, no doubt, larded and stuffed with
many high-seasoned jokes, which Henley did not send to the
printer.
Henley was a charlatan and a knave ; but in all his charla-
tanerie and his knavery he indulged the reveries of genius ;
* Every lecture is dedicated to some branch of the royal family. Among
them one is on ''University Learning," an attack. — "On the English
History and Historians," extremely curious. — " On the Languages, Ancient
and Modern," full of erudition. — "On the English Tongue," a valuable
criticism at that moment when our style was receiving a new polish from
Addison and Prior. Henley, acknowledging that these writers had raised
correctness of expression to its utmost height, adds, though, " if I mistake
not, something to the detriment of that force and freedom that ought, with
the most concealed art, to be a perfect copy of nature in all compositions."
This is among the first notices of that artificial style which has vitiated our
native idiom, substituting for its purity an affected delicacy, and for its
vigour profuse ornament. Henley observes that, "to be perspicuous, pure,
elegant, copious, and harmonious, are the chief good qualities of writing the
English tongue ; they are attained by study and practice, and lost by the
contrary : but imitation is to be avoided ; they cannot be made our own but
by keeping the force of our understandings superior to our models ; by
rendering our thoughts the original, and our vjords the copy.'" — " On Wit
and Imagination," abounding with excellent criticism. — " On grave conun-
drums and serious buffoons, in defence of burlesque discourses, from the
most weighty authoi-ities." — "A Dissertation upon Nonsense." At the
close he has a fling at his friend Pope ; it was after the publication of the
Dunciad. "Of Nonsense there are celebrated professors ; Mr. Pope grows
witty like Bays in the 'Rehearsal,' by selling bargains (his subscriptions
for Homer), praising himself, laughing at his joke, and making his own
works the test of any man's criticism ; but he seems to be in some jeopardy ;
for the ghost of Homer has lately spoke to him in Grreek, and Shakspeare
resolves to bring him, as he has brought Shakspeare, to a tragical conclu-
sion. Mr. Pope suggests the last choice of a subject for writing a book, by
making the Nonsense of others his argument ; while his own puts it out of
any writer's power to confute him." In another fling at Pope, he gives the
reason why Mr. Pope adds the dirty dialect to that of the water, and is in
love with the Nymphs of Fleet ditch ; and in a lecture on the spleen he
announced " an anatomical discovery, that Mr. Pope's spleen is bigger thaa
his head!"
Disappointed Genius. 65
many of which have been realised since ; and, if we continue
to laugh at Henley, it will indeed be cruel, for we shall be
laughing at ourselves ! Among the objects which Henley
discriminates in his general design, were, to supply the want
of a university, or universal school, in this capital, for persons
of all ranks, professions, and capacities ; — to encourage a Hte-
rary correspondence with great men and learned bodies ; the
communication of all discoveries and experiments in science
and the arts ; to form an amicable society for the encourage-
ment of learning, " in order to cultivate, adorn, and exalt the
genius of Britain ;" to lay a foundation for an English
Academy ; to give a standard to our language, and a digest to
our history ; to revise the ancient schools of philosophy and
elocution, which last has been reckoned by Pancirollus among
the artes perditce. All these were " to bring all the parts of
knowledge into the narrowest compass, placing them in the
clearest light, and fixing them to the utmost certainty." The
religion of the Oratory was to be that of the primitive church
in the first ages of the four first general councils, approved by
parHament in the first year of the reign of Elizabeth. " The
Church of England is really with us ; we appeal to her own
principles, and we shall not deviate from her, unless she
deviates from herself." Yet his '* Primitive Christianity "
had all the sumptuous pomp of popery ; his creeds and doxolo-
gies are printed in the red letter, and his liturgies in the
black ; his pulpit blazed in gold and velvet (Pope's " gilt
tub"); while his "Primitive Eucharist" was to be dis-
tributed with all the ancient forms of celebrating the sacrifice
of the altar, which he says, " are so noble, so just, sublime,
and perfectly harmonious, that the change has been made to
an unspeakable disadvantage." It was restoring the decora-
tions and the mummery of the mass ! He assumed even a
higher tone, and dispersed medals, like those of Louis XIV.,
with the device of a sun near the meridian, and a motto, Ad
summa, with an inscription expressive of the genius of this
new adventurer, Inveniam viam aut faciam ! There was a
snake in the grass ; it is obvious that Henley, in improving
literature and philosophy, had a deeper design — to set up a
new sect ! He called himself "a Kationalist," and on his
death-bed repeatedly cried out, " Let my notorious enemies
know I die a Rational."*
* Thus he anticipated the term, since become so notorious among
German theologians.
66 Calamities of Authors.
His address to the town* excited public curiosity to the
utmost ; and the floating crowds were repulsed by their own
violence from this new paradise, where "The Tree of
Knowledge" was said to be planted. At the succeeding
meeting " the Restorer of Ancient Eloquence" informed
" persons in chairs that they must come sooner." He first
commenced by subscriptions to be raised from " persons emi-
nent in Arts and Literature," who, it seems, were lured by
the seductive promise, that, " if they had been virtuous or
penitents, they should be commemorated ;" an oblique hint
at a panegyrical puff. In the decline of his popularity he
permitted his doorkeeper, whom he dignifies with the title of
Ostiary, to take a shilling ! But he seems to have been po-
pular for many years ; even when his auditors were but few,
they were of the better order ;t and in notes respecting him
which I have seen, by a contemporary, he is called " the
reverend and learned." His favourite character was that of
a Restorer of Eloquence ; and he was not destitute of the
qualifications of a fine orator, a good voice, graceful gesture,
and forcible elocution. Warburton justly remarked, " Some-
times he broke jests, and sometimes that bread which he
called the Primitive Eucharist." He would degenerate into
buffoonery on solemn occasions. His address to the Deity
was at first awful, and seemingly devout ; but, once expa-
tiating on the several sects who would certainly be damned,
he prayed that the Dutch might be undamm'd ! He under-
took to show the ancient use of the petticoat, by quoting the
Scriptures where the mother of Samuel is said to have made
him " a little coat^^ ergo, a PETTi-coa^ \X His advertise-
* It is preserved in the "Historical Register," vol. xi. for 1726. It is
curious and well written.
f "Gentleman's Magazine," vol. Ivii. p. 876.
X His "Defence of the Oratory" is a curious performance. He pretends
to derive his own from great authority. " St. Paul is related, Acts 28, to
have dwelt two whole years in his own hired house, and to have received
all that came in unto him, teaching those things which concern the Lord
Jesus Christ with all confidence, no man forbidding him. This was at
Rome, and doubtless was his practice in his other travels, there being the
same reason in the thing to produce elsewhere the like circumstances,"
He proceeds to show "the calumnies and reproaches, and the novelty and
impiety, with which Christianity, at its first setting out, was charged, as a
mean, abject institution, not only useless and unserviceable, but pernicious
to the public and its professors, as the refuse of the world." — Of the false
accusations raised against Jesus — all this he applies to himself and his
appointed Genius, 67
ments were mysterious ribaldry to attract curiosity, while
his own good sense would frequently chastise those who
could not resist it ; his auditors came in folly, but they de-
parted in good-humour.* These advertisements were usually
preceded by a sort of motto, generally a sarcastic allusion to
some public transaction of the preceding week.f Henley
pretended to great impartiality ; and when two preachers
had animadverted on him, he issued an advertisement, an-
nouncing " A Lecture that will be a challenge to the Rev.
Mr. Batty and the Rev. Mr. Albert. Letters are sent to
them on this head, and a free standing-place is there to be
had gratis^ Once Henley offered to admit of a disputation,
and that he would impartiall}'- determine the merits of the
contest. It happened that Henley this time was over-
oratory — and he concludes, that "Bringing men to think rightly will
always be reckoned a depraving of their minds by those who are desirous to
keep them in a mistake, and who measure all truth by the standard of
their own narrow opinions, views, and passions. The principles of this
institution are those of right reason : the first ages of Christianity ; true
facts, clear criticism, and polite literature — if these corrupt the mind, to
find a place where the mind will not be corrupted will be impracticable."
Thus speciously could "the Orator" reason, raising himself to th^, height
of apostolical purity. And when he was accused that he did all for lucre,
he retorted, that "some do nothing for it ;" and that "he preached more
charity sermons than any clergyman in the kingdom."
* He once advertised an oration on marriage, which drew together an
overflowing assembly of females, at which, solemnly shaking his head, he
told the ladies, that " he was afraid, that oftentimes, as well as now, they
came to church in hopes to get husbands, rather than be instructed by the
preacher ;" to which he added a piece of wit not quite decent. He congre-
gated the trade of shoemakers, by offering to show the most expeditious
method of making shoes : he held out a boot, and cut off the leg part. He
gave a lecture, which he advertised was "for the instruction of those who
do not like it ; it was on the philosophy, history, and great use of Nonsense
to the learned, political, and polite world, who excel in it."
+ Dr. Cobden, one of George the Second's chaplains, hadng, in 1748,
preached a sermon at St. James's from these words, "Take away the
wicked from before the king, and his throne shall be established in
righteousness," it gave so much displeasure, that the doctor was struck out
of the list of chaplains ; and the next Saturday the following parody of his
text appeared as a motto to Henley's advertisement :
"Away with the wicked before the king,
And away with the wicked behind him ;
His throne it will bless
With righteousness.
And we shall know where to find him. "
CHALMEaa's " Biographical Dictionary.**
^2
68 Calamities of Authors.
matched ; for two Oxonians, supported by a strong party to
awe his "marrow-boners," as the butchers were called, said
to be in the Orator's pay, entered the list ; the one to defend
the ignorance, the other the impudence, of the Eestorer of
Eloquence himself. As there was a door behind the rostrum,
which led to his house, the Orator silently dropped out,
postponing the award to some happier day.*
This age of lecturers may find their model in Henley's
"Universal Academy," and if any should aspire to bring
themselves down to his genius, I furnish them with hints of
anomalous topics. In the second number of " The Oratory
Transactions," is a diary from July 1726, to August 1728.
It forms, perhaps, an unparalleled chronicle of the vagaries of
the human mind. These archives of cunning, of folly, and
of literature, are divided into two diaries ; the one " The Theo-
logical or Lord's days' subjects of the Oratory ;" the other,
" The Academical or Week-days' subjects." I can only note
a few. It is easy to pick out ludicrous specimens ; for he had
a quaint humour peculiar to himself; but among these
numerous topics are many curious for their knowledge and
ingenuity.
" The last Wills and Testaments of the Patriarchs."
" An Argument to the Jews, with a proof that they ought
to be Christians, for the same reason which they ought to be
Jews."
" St. Paul's Cloak, Books, and Parchments, left at Troas."
" The tears of Magdalen, and the joy of angels."
" New Converts in Religion." After pointing out the names
of " Courayer and others, the D of W n, the Pro-
* The history of the closing years of Henley's life is thus given in ** The
History of the Robin Hood Society," 1764, a political club, whose debates
he occasionally enlivened : — "The Orator, with various success, still kept
up his Oratory, King George's, or Charles's Chapel, as he differently
termed it, till the year 1759, when he died. At its first establishment it
was amazingly crowded, and money flowed in upon him apace ; and between
whiles it languished and drooped : but for some years before its author's
death it dwindled away so much, and fell into such an hectic state, that
the few friends of it feared its decease was very near. The doctor, indeed,
kept it up to the last, determined it should live as long as he did, and
actually exhibited many evenings to empty benches. Finding no one at length
would attend, he admitted the acquaintances of his door-keeper, runner,
mouth-piece, and some other of his followers, gratis. On the 13th of
October, however, the doctor died, and the Oratory ceased ; no one having
iniquity or impudence suflBcient to continue it on." — Ed.
Disappointed Genius, 69
testantism of the P , the conversion of the Rev. Mr.
B e, and Mr. liar y," he closes with " Origen's opi-
nion of Satan's conversion ; with the choice and balance of
Religion in all countries."
There is one remarkable entry : —
" Feb. 11. This week all Mr. Henley's writings were
seized, to be examined by the State. Vide Magnam Cliar-
tam, and E^ig Lib.^*
It is evident by what follows that the personalities he
made use of were one means of attracting auditors.
" On the action of Cicero, and the beauty of Eloquence,
and on living characters ; of action in the Senate, at the Bar,
and in the Pulpit — of the Theatrical in all men. The
manner of my Lord , Sir , Dr. , the B. of ,
being a proof how all life is playing something, but with
different action."
In a Lecture on the History of Bookcraft, an account was
given
" Of the plenty of books, and dearth of sense ; the advan-
tages of the Oratory to the booksellers, in advertising for
them ; and to their customers, in making books useless ; with
all the learning, reason, and wit more than are proper for one
advertisement."
Amid these eccentricities it is remarkable that " the
Zany" never forsook his studies ; and the amazing multi-
plicity of the MSS. he left behind him confirm this extra-
ordinary fact. " These," he says, " are six thousand more or
less, that I value at one guinea apiece ; with 150 volumes of
commonplaces of wit, memoranda," &c. They were sold for
much less than one hundred pounds ; I have looked over
many ; they are written with great care. Every leaf has an
opposite blank page, probably left for additions or corrections,
so that if his nonsense were spontaneous, his sense was the
fruit of study and correction.
Such was " Orator Henley !" A scholar of great acquire-
ments, and of no mean genius ; hardy and inventive, elo-
quent and witty ; he might have been an ornament to litera-
ture, which he made ridiculous ; and the pride of the pulpit,
which he so egregiously disgraced ; but, having blunted and
worn out that interior feeling, which is the instinct of the
good man, and the wisdom of the wise, there was no balance
in his passions, and the decorum of life was sacrificed to its
70 Calamities of Authors.
selfishness. He condescended to live on the follies of the
people, and his sordid nature had changed him till he crept,
"licking the dust with the serpent."*
THE MALADIES OF AUTHORS.
The practice of every art subjects the artist to some par-
ticular inconvenience, usually inflicting some malady on that
member which has been over-wrought by excess : nature
abused, pursues man into his most secret corners, and avenges
herself. In the athletic exercises of the ancient Gymnasium,
the pugilists were observed to become lean from their hips
downwards, while the superior parts of their bodies, which
they over-exercised, were prodigiously swollen ; on the con-
trary, the racers were meagre upwards, while their feet ac-
quired an unnatural dimension. The secret source of life
seems to be carried forwards to those parts which are making
the most continued efforts.
In all sedentary labours, some particular malady is con-
tracted by every worker, derived from particular postures of
the body and peculiar habits. Thus the weaver, the tailor,
the painter, and the glass-blower, have all their respective
maladies. The diamond-cutter, with a furnace before him,
may be said almost to live in one ; the slightest air must be
shut out of the apartment, lest it scatter away the precious
dust — a breath would ruin him !
The analogy is obvious ;t and the author must participate
in the common fate of all sedentary occupations. But his
maladies, from the very nature of the delicate organ of
thinking, intensely exercised, are more terrible than those of
any other profession ; they are more complicated, more hidden
* Hogarth has preserved his features in the parson who figures so con-
spicuously in his "Modern Midnight Conversation." His oflF-hand style of
discourse is given in the Gray's-Iwn Journal^ 1753 (No. 18), in an
imaginary meeting of the political Robin Hood Society, where he figures as
Orator Bronze, and exclaims : — " I am pleased to see this assembly — you're
a twig from me ; a chip of the old block at Clare Market ; — I am the old
block, invincible ; cowp de grace as yet unanswered. We are brother
rationalists ; logicians upon fundamentals ! I love ye all — I love mankind
in general — give me some of that porter." — En,
"t Hawkesworth, in the second paper of the "Adventurer," has com-
posed, from his own feelings, an elegant description of intellectual and
corporeal labour, and the sufferings of an author, with the uncertainty of
his labour and his reward.
The Maladies of Authors, 71
in their causes, and the mysterious union and secret influence
of the faculties of the soul over those of the body, are
visible, yet still incomprehensible ; they frequently produce a
perturbation in the faculties, a state of acute irritability, and
many sorrows and infirmities, which are not likely to create
much sympathy from those around the author, who, at a
glance, could have discovered where the pugilist or the racer
became meagre or monstrous : the intellectual malady eludes
even the tenderness of friendship.
The more obvious maladies engendered by the life of a
student arise from over-study. These have furnished a curious
volume to Tissot, in his treatise " On the Health of Men of
Letters;" a book, however, which chills and terrifies more
than it does good.
The unnatural fixed postures, the perpetual activity of the
mind, and the inaction of the body ; the brain exhausted with
assiduous toil deranging the nerves, vitiating the digestive
powers, disordering its own machinery, and breaking the calm
of sleep by that previous state of excitement which study
throws us into, are some of the calamities of a studious life :
for like the ocean when its swell is subsiding, the waves of
the mind too still heave and beat ; hence all the small feverish
symptoms, and the whole train of hypochondriac affections,
as well as some acute ones.*
* Dr. Fuller's "Medicina Gymnastica, or, a treatise concerning the
power of Exercise, with respect to the Animal CEconomy, fifth edition,
1718," is useful to remind the student of what he is apt to forget ; for the
object of this volume is to substitute exercise for medicine. He wrote the
book before he became a physician. He considers horse-riding as the best
and noblest of all exercises, it being "a mixed exercise, partly active and
partly passive, while other sorts, such as walking, running, stooping, or the
like, require some labour and more strength for their performance."
Cheyne, in his well-known treatise of "The English Malady," published
about twenty years after Fuller's work, acknowledges that riding on horse-
back is the best of all exercises, foi which he details his reasons. "Walk-
ing," he says, "though it will answer the same end, yet is it more
laborious and tiresome ;" but amusement ought always to be comoined with
the exercise of a student ; the mind will receive no refreshment by a solitary
walk or ride, unless it be agreeably withdrawn from all thoughtfulness and
anxiety ; if it continue studying in its recreations, it is the sure means
of obtaining neither of its objects — a friend, not an author, will at such a
moment be the better companion.
The last chapter in Fuller's work contains much curious reading on the
ancient physicians, and their gymnastic courses, which Asclepiades, the
pleasantest of all the ancient physicians, greatly studied ; he was most
fortunate in the invention of exercises to supply the place of much physic,
and (says Fuller) no man in any age ever had the happiness to obtain so
72 Calamities of Authors.
Among the correspondents of the poets Hughes and Thorn-
eon, there is a pathetic letter from a student. Alexander Bayne,
to prepare his lectures, studied fourteen hours a-day for eight
months successively, and wrote 1,600 sheets. Such intense
application, which, however, not greatly exceeds that of many
authors, brought on the bodily complaints he has minutely
described, with " all the dispiriting symptoms of a nervous
illness, commonly called vapours, or lowness of spirits."
Bayne, who was of an athletic temperament, imagined he had
not paid attention to his diet, to the lowness of his desk, and
his habit of sitting with a particular compression of the body ;
in future all these were to be avoided. He prolonged his
life for five years, and, perhaps, was still flattering his hopes
of sharing one day in the literary celebrity of his friends,
when, to use his words, " the same illness made a fierce
attack upon me again, and has kept me in a very bad state
of inactivity and disrelish of all my ordinary amusements :"
those amusements were his serious studies. There is a fasci-
nation in literary labour : the student feeds on magical drugs ;
to withdraw him from them requires nothing less than that
greater magic which could break his own spells. A few
months after this letter was written Bayne died on the way
to Bath, a martyr to his studies.
The excessive labour on a voluminous work, which occupies
a long life, leaves the student with a broken constitution, and
his sight decayed or lost. The most admirable observer of
mankind, and the truest painter of the human heart, declares,
" The corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the earthy
tabernacle weigheth down the mind that museth on many
things.^' Of this class was old Ran die Cotgrave, the curious
collector of the most copious dictionary of old French and
old English words and phrases. The work is the only treasury
of our genuine idiom. Even this labour of the lexicographer,
general an applause ; Pliny calls him the delight of mankind. Admirable
physician, who had so many ways, it appears, to make physic agreeable !
He invented the lecti pensiles, or hanging beds, that the sick might be
rocked to sleep ; which took so much at that time, that they became a great
luxury among the Romans.
Fuller judiciously does not recommend the gymnastic courses, because
horse-riding, for persons of delicate constitutions, is preferable ; he discovers
too the reason why the ancients did not introduce this mode of exercise — it
arose from the simple circumstance of their not knowing the use of stirrups,
which was a later invention. Riding with the ancients was, therefore,
only an exercise for the healthy and the robust ; a horse without stiiTupg
was a formidable animal for a valetudinarian.
The Maladies of Authors. 73
so copious and so elaborate, must have been projected with
rapture, and pursued with pleasure, till, in the progress, "the
mind was musing on many things." Then came the melan-
choly doubt, that drops mildew from its enveloping wings
over the voluminous labour of a laborious author, whether he
be wisely consuming his days, and not perpetually neglecting
some higher duties or some happier amusements. Still the
enchanted delver sighs, and strikes on in the glimmering mine
of hope. If he live to complete the great labour, it is, per-
haps, reserved for the applause of the next age ; for, as our
great lexicographer exclaimed, " In this gloom of solitude I
have protracted my work, till those whom I wished to please
have sunk into the grave, and success and miscarriage are
empty sounds ;" but, if it be applauded in his own, that praise
has come too late for him whose literary labour has stolen
away his sight. Cotgrave had grown blind over his dictionary,
and was doubtful whether this work of his laborious days and
nightly vigils was not a superfluous labour, and nothing, after
all, but a "poor bundle of words." The reader may listen
to the gray-headed martyr addressing his patron, Lord
Burghley :
" I present to your lordship an account of the expense of
many hours, which, in your service, and to mine own benefit,
might have heen otherwise employed. My desires have aimed
at more substantial marks ; but mine eyes failed them, and
forced me to spend out their vigour in this bundle of words,
which may be unworthy of your lordship's great patience,
and, perhaps, ill-suited to the expectation of others.''^
A great number of young authors have died of over-study.
An intellectual enthusiasm, accompanied by constitutional
delicacy, has swept away half the rising genius of the age.
Curious calculators have affected to discover the average num-
ber of infants who die under the age of five years : had they
investigated those of the children of genius who perish before
their thirtieth year, we should not be less amazed at this
waste of man. There are few scenes more afflicting, nor
which more deeply engage our sympathy, than that of a youth,
glowing with the devotion of study, and resolute to distin-
guish his name among his countrymen, while death is stealing
on him, touching with premature age, before he strikes the
last blow. The author perishes on the very pages which give
a charm to his existence. The fine taste and tender melan-
choly of Headley, the fervid genius of Henry Kirke White,
74 Calamities of Authors.
will not easily pass away ; but how many youths as noble-
minded have not had the fortune of Kirke White to be com-
memorated by genius, and have perished without their fame !
Henry Wharton is a name well known to the student of
English literature ; he published historical criticisms of high
value ; and he left, as some of the fruits of his studies, sixteen
volumes of MS., preserved in the Archiepiscopal Library at
Lambeth. These great labours were pursued with the ardour
that only could have produced them ; the author had not ex-
ceeded his thirtieth year when he sank under his continued
studies, and perished a martyr to literature. Our literary
history abounds with instances of the sad effects of an over
indulgence in study : that agreeable writer, Howel, had nearly
lost his life by an excess of this nature, studying through long
nights in the depth of winter. This severe study occasioned
an imposthume in his head ; he was eighteen days without
sleep ; and the illness was attended with many other afflicting
symptoms. The eager diligence of Blackmore, protracting
his studies through the night, broke his health, and obliged
him to fly to a country retreat. Harris, the historian, died
of a consumption by midnight studies, as his friend HolHs
mentions. I shall add a recent instance, which I myself wit-
nessed : it is that of John Macdiarmid. He was one of those •
Scotch students whom the golden fame of Hume and
Robertson attracted to the metropolis. He mounted the first
steps of literary adventure with credit ; and passed through
the probation of editor and reviewer, till he strove for more
heroic adventures. He published some volumes, whose sub-
jects display the aspirings of his genius : " An Inquiry into
the Nature of Civil and Military Subordination ;" another
into " the System of Military Defence." It was dm-ing these
labours I beheld this inquirer, of a tender frame, emaciated,
and study-worn, with hollow eyes, where the mind dimly shone
like a lamp in a tomb. With keen ardour he opened a new
plan of biographical politics. When, by one who wished
the author was in better condition, the dangers of excess in
study were brought to his recollection, he smiled, and, with
something of a mysterious air, talked of unalterable confi-
dence in the powers of his mind ; of the indefinite improve-
ment in our faculties : and, with this enfeebled frame, con-
sidered himself capable of continuous labour. His whole
life, indeed, was one melancholy trial. Often the day cheer-
fully passed without its meal, but never without its page.
Literary Scotchmen. 75
The new system of political biography was advancing, when
our young author felt a paralytic stroke. He afterwards
resumed his pen ; and a second one proved fatal. He lived
just to pass through the press his "Lives of British States-
men," a splendid quarto, whose publication he owed to the
generous temper of a friend, who, when the author could not
readily procure a publisher, would not see the dying author's
last hope disappointed. Some research and reflection are com-
bined in this literary and civil history of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries ; but it was written with the blood of
the autlior, for Macdiarmid died of over-study and exhaustion.
Among the maladies of poor authors, who procure a pre-
carious existence by their pen, one, not the least considerable,
is their old age ; their flower and maturity of life were shed
for no human comforts ; and old age is the withered root.
The late Thomas Moetimer, the compiler, among other
things, of that useful work, " The Student's Pocket Dic-
tionary," felt this severely — he himself experienced no abate-
ment of his ardour, nor deficiency in his. intellectual powers,
at near the age of eighty; — but he then would complain "of
the paucity of literary employment, and the preference given
to young adventurers." Such is the youth, and such the old
age of ordinary authors !
LITERARY SCOTCHMEIT.
What literary emigrations from the North of young men of
genius, seduced by a romantic passion for literary fame, and
lured by the golden prospects which the happier genius of
some of their own countrymen opened on them. A volume
might be written on literary Scotchmen, who have perished
immaturely in this metropolis; little known, and slightly
connected, they have dropped away among us, and scarcely
left a vestige in the wrecks of their genius. Among them
some authors may be discovered who might have ranked,
perhaps, in the first classes of our literature. I shall select
four out of as many hundred, who were not entirely unknown
to me ; a romantic youth — a man of genius — a brilliant prose
writer — and a labourer in literature.
Isaac Ritson (not the poetical antiquary) was a young
man of genius, who perisVie:! immaturely in this metropolis
by attemptmg to exist by the efforts of his pen.
76 Calamities of Authors.
In early youth he roved among his native mountains, with
the battles of Homer in his head, and his bow and arrow in his
hand ; in calmer hours, he nearly completed a spirited version
of Hesiod, which constantly occupied his after-studies; yet
our minstrel-archer did not less love the severer sciences.
Selected at length to rise to the eminent station of the
Village Schoolmaster, — from the thankless office of pouring
cold rudiments into heedless ears, Ritsok took a poetical
flight. It was among the mountains and wild scenery of
Scotland that our young Homer, picking up fragments of
heroic songs, and composing some fine ballad poetry, would,
in his wanderings, recite them with such passionate expres-
sion, that he never failed of auditors ; and found even the
poor generous, when their better passions were moved. Thus
he lived, hke some old troubadour, by his rhymes, and his
chants, and his virelays ; and, after a year's absence, our bard
returned in the triumph of verse. This was the most seducing
moment of Hfe ; Kitson felt himself a laureated Petrarch ; but
he had now quitted Ijis untutored but feeling admirers, and the
child of fancy was to mix with the everyday business of life.
At Edinburgh he studied medicine, lived by writing theses
for the idle and the incompetent, and composed a poem on
Medicine, till at length his hopes and his ambition conducted
him to London. But the golden age of the imagination soon
deserted him in his obscure apartment in the glittering metro-
polis. He attended the hospitals, but these were crowded by
students who, if they relished the science less, loved the trade
more : he published a hasty version of Homer's Hymn to
Venus, which was good enough to be praised, but not to sell ;
at length his fertile imagination, withering over the taskwork
of literature, he resigned fame for bread ; wrote the preface
to Clarke's Survey of the Lakes, compiled medical articles
for the Monthly Eeview ; and, wasting fast his ebbing spirits,
he retreated to an obscure lodging at Islington, where death
relieved a hopeless author, in the twenty-seventh year of
his life.
The following unpolished lines were struck off at a heat in
trying his pen on the back of a letter ; he wrote the names
of the Sister Fates, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos — the sud-
den recollection of his own fate rushed on him — and thus the
rhapsodist broke out : —
I wonder much, as yet ye're spinning, Fates !
What threads yet twisted out for me, old Jades !
Literary Scotchmen. 77
Ah, Atropos ! perhaps for me thou spinn'st
'' Neglect, contempt, and penury and woe ;
Be't so ; whilst that foul fiend, the spleen,
And moping melancholy spare me, all the rest
I'll hear, as should a man ; 'twill do me good,
And teach me what no better fortune could,
Humility, and sympathy with others' ills.
Ye destinies,
I love you much ; ye flatter not my pride.
Your mien, 'tis true, is wrinkled, hard, and sour ;
Your words are harsh and stern ; and sterner still
Your purposes to me. Yet I forgive
Whatever you have done, or mean to do.
Beneath some baleful planet born, I've found,
In all this world, no friend with fostering hand
To lead me on to science, which I love
Beyond all else the world could give ; yet still
Your rigour I forgive; ye are not yet my foes;
My own untutor'd will's my only curse.
We grasp asphaltic apples ; blooming poison !
We love what we should hate ; how kind, ye Fates,
To thwart our wishes ! you're kind to scourge !
And flay us to the bone to make us feel ! —
Thus deeply he enters into his own feehngs, and abjures
his errors, as he paints the utter desolation of the soul while
falling into the grave opening at his feet.
The town was once amused almost every morning by a
series of humorous or burlesque poems by a writer under the
assumed name of Matthew Bramble — he was at that very
moment one of the most moving spectacles of human melan-
choly I have ever witnessed.
It was one evening I saw a tall, famished, melancholy man
enter a bookseller's shop, his hat flapped over his eyes, and his
whole frame evidently feeble from exhaustion and utter misery.
The bookseller inquired how he proceeded in his new tragedy.
" Do not talk to me about my tragedy ! Do not talk to me
about my tragedy ! I have indeed more tragedy than I can
bear at home!" was the reply, and the voice faltered as he
spoke. This man was Matthew Bramble, or rather —
M'DowALD, the author of the tragedy of Vimonda, at that
moment the writer of comic poetry — his tragedy was indeed
a domestic one, in which he himself was the greatest actor
amid his disconsolate family; he shortly afterwards perished.
M'Donald had walked from Scotland with no other fortune than
the novel of " The Independent" in one pocket, and the tragedy
of " Vimonda" in the other. Yet he lived some time in all the
bloom and flush of poetical confidence. Vimonda was even
78 Calamities of Authors,
performed several nights, but not with the success the romantic
poet, among his native rocks, had conceived was to crown his
anxious labours — the theatre disappointed him — and after-
wards, to his feehngs, all the world !
Logan had the dispositions of a poetic spirit, not cast in a
common mould ; with fancy he combined learning, and with
eloquence pliilosophy.
His claims on our sympathy arise from those circumstances
in his life which open the secret sources of the calamities of
authors ; of those minds of finer temper, who, having tamed
the heat of their youth by the patient severity of study, from
causes not always difficult to discover, find their favourite
objects and their fondest hopes barren and neglected. It is
then that the thoughtful melancholy, which constitutes so
large a portion of their genius, absorbs and consumes the very
faculties to which it gave birth.
Logan studied at the University of Edinburgh, was ordained
in the Church of Scotland — and early distinguished as a poet
by the simplicity and the tenderness of his verses, yet the
philosophy of history had as deeply interested his studies. He
gave two courses of lectures. I have heard from his pupils
their admiration, after the lapse of many years ; so striking
were those lectures for having successfully applied the science
of moral philosophy to the history of nations. All wished
that Logan should obtain the chair of the Professorship of
Universal History — but from some point of etiquette he failed
in obtaining that distinguished office.
This was his first disappointment in life, yet then perhaps
but lightly felt ; for the public had approved of his poems,
and a successful poet is easily consoled. Poetry to such a
gentle being seems a universal specific for all the evils of life ;
it acts at the moment, exhausting and destroying too often the
constitution it seems to restore.
He had finished the tragedy of " Runnymede ;'* it was
accepted at Covent-garden, but interdicted by the Lord Cham-
berlain, from some suspicion that its lofty sentiments con-
tained allusions to the politics of the day. The Barons-in-
arms who met John were conceived to be deeper politicians
than the poet himself was aware of. This was the second
disappointment in the life of this man of genius.
The third calamity was the natural consequence of a tragic
poet being also a Scotch clergyman. Logan had inflicted a
wound on the Presbytery, heirs of the genius of old Prynne,
Literary Scotchmen, 79
whose puritanic fanaticism had never forgiven Home for
his " Douglas," and now groaned to detect genius still lurking
among them.* Logan, it is certain, expressed his contempt
for them ; they their hatred of him : folly and pride in a poet,
to beard Presbyters in a land of Presbyterians If
He gladly abandoned them, retiring on a small annuity.
They had, however, hurt his temper — they had irritated the
nervous system of a man too susceptible of all impressions,
gentle or unkind — his character had all those unequal habi-
tudes which genius contracts in its boldness and its tremors ;
he was now vivacious and indignant, and now fretted and
melancholy. He flew to the metropolis, occupied himself in
literature, and was a frequent contributor to the " English
Review." He published " A Review of the Principal Charges
against Mr. Hastings." Logan wrestled with the genius of
Burke and Sheridan; the House of Commons ordered the
publisher Stockdale to be prosecuted, but the author did not
live to rejoice in the victory obtained by his genius.
This elegant philosopher has impressed on all his works the
seal of genius ; and his posthumous compositions became even
popular ; he who had with difficulty escaped excommunication
by Presbyters, left the world after his death two volumes of
sermons, which breathe all that piety, morality, and eloquence
admire. His unrevised lectures, published under the name of
a person, one Rutherford, who had purchased the MS., were
given to the world in " A View of Ancient History." But one
highly-finished composition he had himself published ; it is a
philosophical review of Despotism : had the name of Gibbon
been affixed to the title-page, its authenticity had not been
suspected. J
* Home was at the time when he wrote " Douglas" a clergyman in the
Scottish Church ; the theatre was then looked upon by the religious Scotsmen
with the most perfect abhorrence. Many means were taken to deter the
performance of the play ; and as they did not succeed, others were tried to
annoy the author, until their persevering efforts induced him to withdraw
himself entirely from the clerical profession. — En.
i* The objection to his tragedy was made chiefly by his parishioners at
South Leith, who were strongly opposed to their minister being in any way
connected with the theatre. He therefore resigned his appointment, and
settled in London, which he never afterwards abandoned, dying there in
1788.— Ed.
X This admirable little work is entitled ** A Dissertation on the OfcTem-
ments. Manners, and Spirit of Asia; Murray, 1787." It is anonymous; but
the publisher informed me it was written by Logan. His "Elements of the
Philosophy of History" are valuable. His ' * Sermons" have been republished.
80 Calamities of Authors.
From one of his executors, Mr. Donald Grant, who wrote
the life prefixed to his poems, I heard of the state of his
numerous MSS. ; the scattered, yet warm embers of the
unhappy bard. Several tragedies, and one on Mary Queen
of Scots, abounding with all that domestic tenderness and
poetic sensibility which formed the soft and natural feature
of his muse ; these, with minor poems, thirty lectures on the
Roman History, and portions of a periodical paper, were the
wrecks of genius ! He resided here, little known out of a
very private circle, and perished in his fortieth year, not of
penury, but of a broken heart. Such noble and well-founded
expectations of fortune and fame, all the plans of literary
ambition overturned: his genius, with all its delicacy, its
spirit, and its elegance, became a prey to that melancholy
which constituted so large a portion of it.
Logan, in his " Ode to a Man of Letters," had formed this
lofty conception of a great author : —
Won from neglected wastes of time,
Apollo hails his fairest clime,
The provinces of mind ;
An Egypt with eternal towers ; *
See Montesquieu redeem the hours , '
,«. From Louis to mankind.
* i
h No tame remission genius knows,
,i No interval of dark repose,
To quench the ethereal flame ;
From Thebes to Troy, the victor hies,
And Homer with his hero vies,
In varied paths to Fame.
Our children will long repeat his " Ode to the Cuckoo,"
one of the most lovely poems in our language ; magical
stanzas of picture, melody, and sentiment. f
These authors were undoubtedly men of finer feelings, who
all perished immaturely, victims in the higher department of
literature ! But this article would not be complete without
furnishing the reader with a picture of the fate of one who,
with a pertinacity of industry not common, having undergone
* The finest provinces of Egypt gained from a neglected waste,
t An attempt has been made to deprive Logan of the authorship of this
poem. He had edited (very badly) the poems of a deceased friend, Michael
Bruce ; and the friends of the latter claimed this poem as one of them. In
the words of one who has examined the evidence it may be suflScient to say,
** his claim is not only supported by internal evidence, but the charge was
never advanced against him while he was alive to repel it," — Ed.
Literary Scotchmen. 81
regular studies, not very injudiciously deemed that the life
of a man of letters could provide for the simple wants of a
philosopher.
This man was the late Robert Heeoi^, who, in the follow-
ing letter, transcribed from the original, stated his history to
the Literary Fund. It was written in a moment, of extreme
bodily suffering and mental agony in the house to which
he had been hurried for debt. At such a moment he found
eloquence in a narrative, pathetic from its simplicity, and
valuable for its genuineness, as giving the results of a life of
literary industry, productive of great infelicity and disgrace ;
one would imagine that the author had been a criminal rather
than a man of letters.
" The Case of a Man of Letters, of regular education, living
hy honest literary industry.
" Ever since I was eleven years of age I have mingled with
my studies the labour of teaching or of writing, to support
and educate myself.
" During about twenty years, while I was in constant or
occasional attendance at the University of Edinburgh, I
taught and assisted young persons, at all periods, in the
course of education ; from the Alphabet to the highest
branches of Science and Literature.
" I read a course of Lectures on the Law of Nature, the
Law of Nations ; the Jewish, the Grecian, the Roman, and
the Canon Law ; and then on the Feudal Law ; and on
the several forms of Municipal Jurisprudence established in
Modern Europe. I printed a Syllabus of these Lectures,
which was approved. They were intended as introductory
to the professional study of Law, and to assist gentlemen
who did not study it professionally, in the understanding of
History.
" I translated ' Fourcroy's Chemistry' twice, from both
the second and the third editions of the original ; ' Fourcroy's
Philosophy of Chemistry;' ' Savary's Travels in Greece;'
' Dumourier's Letters;' ' Gessner's Idylls' in part; an ab-
stract of ' Zimmerman on Solitude,' and a great diversity of
smaller pieces.
" I wrote a ' Journey through the Western Parts of Scot-
land,' which has passed through two editions ; a ' History
of Scotland,' in six volumes 8vo ; a ' Topographical Account
of Scotland,' which has been several times reprinted ; a num-
82 Calamities of Authors.
ber of communications in the ' Edinburgh Magazine ;' many
Prefaces and Critiques ; a ' Memoir of the Life of Burns the
Poet,' which suggested and promoted the subscription for
his family — has been many times reprinted, and formed the
basis of Dr. Currie's Life of him, as I learned by a letter
from the doctor to one of his friends; a variety of Jeux
d* Esprit in verse and prose ; and many abridgments of large
works.
" In the beginning of 1799 I was encouraged to come to
London. Here I have written a great multij^licity of articles
in almost every branch of science and literature ; my educa-
tion at Edinburgh having comprehended them all. The
' London Review,' the * Agricultural Magazine,' the ' Anti-
Jacobin Eeview,' the ' Monthly Magazine,' the ' Universal
Magazine,' the ' Public Characters,' the ' Annual Necro-
logy,' with several other periodical works, contain many of
my communications. In such of those publications as have
been reviewed, I can show that my anonymous pieces have
been distinguished with very high praise. I have written
also a short system of Chemistry, in one volume 8vo ; and I
published a few weeks since a small work called ' Comforts
of Life,'* of which the first edition was sold in one week,
and the second edition is now in rapid sale.
" In the Newspapers — the Oracle, the Porcupine when it
existed, the General Evening Post, the Morning Post, the
British Press, the Courier, &c., I have published many
Reports of Debates in Parliament, and, I believe, a greater
variety of light fugitive pieces than I know to have been
written by any one other person.
" I have written also a variety of compositions in the Latin
and %lie French languages, in favour of which I have been
honoured with the testimonies of liberal approbation.
" I have invariably written to serve the cause of religion,
morality, pious christian education, and good order, in the
most direct manner. I have considered what I have written
as mere trifles ; and have incessantly studied to qualify m}'--
self for something better. I can prove that I have, for many
years, read and written, one day with another, from twelve to
sixteen hours a day. As a human being, I have not been h'QQ
* "The Comforts of Life" were written in prison; "The Miseries"
(by Jas. Beresford) necessarily in a drawing-room. The works of authors
are often in contrast with themselves ; melancholy authors are the most
jocular, and the most humorous the most melancholy.
Laborious Authors, 83
from follies and errors. But the tenor of my life has heen
temperate, laborious, humble, quiet, and, to the utmost of
my power, beneficent. I can prove the general tenor of my
writings to have been candid, and ever adapted to exhibit the
most favourable views of the abilities, dispositions, and exer-
tions of others.
" For these last ten months I have been brought to the
very extremity of bodily and pecuniary distress.
" I shudder at the thought of perishing in a gaol.
*'92, Chancery-lane, Feb. 2, 1807.
" (In confinement)."
The physicians reported that Robert Heron's health was
such " as rendered him totally incapable of extricating him-
self from the difficulties in which he was involved, by the
indiscreet exertion of his mind, in protracted and incessant
litexxiry labour s.^^
lAbout three months after, Heron sunk under a fever, and
perished amid the walls of Newgate. We are disgusted with
this horrid state of pauperism ; we are indignant at beholding
an author, not a contemptible one, in this last stage of human
wretchedness ! after earh- and late studies — after having read \/
and written from twelve to sixteen hours a day ! 0, ye popu-
lace of scribblers ! before ye are driven to a garret, and your
eyes are filled with constant tears, pause — recollect that few
of you possess the learning or the abilities of Heron.
The fate of Heron is the fate of hundreds of authors by
profession in the present day — of men of some literary talent,
who can never extricate themselves from a degrading state of
povertQ
LABORIOUS AUTHORS.
Thts is one of the groans of old Bueton over his laborious
work, when he is anticipating the reception it is like to meet
with, and personates his objectors. He says : —
" This is a thinge of meere industrie — a collection without
wit or invention — a very toy ! So men are valued ! — their
labours vilified by fellowes of no worth themselves, as things
of nought ; who could not have done as much."
There is, indeed, a class of authors who are liable to forfeit
all claims to genius, whatever their genius may be — these
are the laborious writers of voluminous works ; but they are
q2
84 Calamities of Authors,
farther subject to heavier grievances — to be undervalued or
neglected by the apathy or the ingratitude of the public.
Industry is often conceived to betray the absence of intel-
lectual exertion, and the magnitude of a work is imagined
necessarily to shut out all genius. Yet a laborious work has
often had an original growth and raciness in it, requiring a
genius whose peculiar feeling, like invisible vitality, is spread
through the mighty body. Feeble imitations of such labo-
rious works have proved the master's mind that is in the
original. There is a talent in industry which every indus-
trious man does not possess ; and even taste and imagination
may lead to the deepest studies of antiquities, as well as mere
undiscerning curiosity and plodding dulness.
But there are other more striking characteristics of intel-
lectual feeling in authors of this class. The fortitude of mind
which enables them to complete labours of which, in many
instances, they are conscious that the real value will only be
appreciated by dispassionate posterity, themselves rarely living
to witness the fame of their own work established, while they
endure the captiousness of malicious cavillers. It is said that
the Optics of Newton had no character or credit here till
noticed in France. It would not be the only instance of an
author writing above his own age, and anticipating its more
advanced genius. How many works of erudition might be
adduced to show their author's disappointments ! Peide aux' s
learned work of the " Connexion of the Old and New Testa-
ment," and Shuckpoed's similar one, were both a long while
before they could obtain a publisher, and much longer before
they found readers. It is said Sir Waltee Raleigh burned
the second volume of his History, from the ill success the
first had met with. Peince's " Worthies of Devon" was so
unfavourably received by the public, that the laborious and
patriotic author was so discouraged as not to print the second
volume, which is said to have been prepared for the press.
Faenewoeth's elaborate Translation, with notes and disser-
tations, of Machiavel's works, was hawked about the town ;
and the poor author discovered that he understood Machiavel
better than the public. After other labours of this kind, he
left his family in distressed circumstances. Observe, this
excellent book now bears a high price ! The fate of the
" Biographia Britannica," in its first edition, must be noticed :
the spirit and acuteness of Campbell, the curious industry of
Oldts, and the united labours of very able writers, could not
Laborious Authors. S6
secure public favour ; this treasure of our literary history was
on the point of being suspended, when a poem by Gilbert
West drew the public attention to that elaborate work,
which, however, still languished, and was hastily concluded.
Granger says of his admirable work, in one of his letters —
" On a fair state of my account, it would appear that my
labours in the improvement of my work do not amount to
half the 'pay of a scavenger I " He received onlj'' one hundred
pounds to the times of Charles I., and the rest to depend on
public favour for the continuation. The sale was sluggish ;
even Walpole seemed doubtful of its success, though he pro-
bably secretly envied the skill of our portrait -painter. It
was too philosof)hical for the mere collector, and it took near
ten years before it, reached the hands of philosophers; the
author derived little profit, and never lived to see its popu-
larity estabbshed ! We have had many highly valuable works
suspended for their want of public patronage, to the utter
disappointment, and sometimes the ruin of their authors;
such are Oldts's " British Librarian," Morgaj^'s " Phoenix
Britannicus," Dr. Berkenhout's " Biographia Literaria,"
Professor Martin's and Dr. Lettice's "Antiquities of
Herculaneum:" all these 'hvq first volumes, , there are no
seconds! They are now rare, curious, and high priced!
Ungrateful public ! Unhappy authors !
That noble enthusiasm which so strongly characterisesgenius,
in productions whose originality is of a less ambiguous nature,
has been experienced by some of these laborious authors, who
have sacrificed their lives and fortunes to their beloved
studies. The enthusiasm of literature has often been that of
heroism, and many have not shrunk from the forlorn hope.
EusHWORTH and Rtmer, to whose collections our history
stands so deeply indebted, must have strongly felt this lite-
rary ardour, for they passed their lives in forming them ; till
Kymer, in the utmost distress, was obliged to sell his books
and his fifty volumes of MS. which he could not get printed ;
and Rushworth died in the King's Bench of a broken heart.
Many of his papers still remain unpublished. His ruling
passion was amassing state matters, and he voluntarily
neglected great opportunities of acquiring a large fortune for
this entire devotion of his life. The same fate has awaited the
similar labours of many authors to whom the history of our
country lies under deep obligations. Arthur Colliks, thv
historiographer of our Peerage, and the curious collector of
86 Calamities of Authors.
the valuable " Sydney Papers," and other collections, passed
his life in rescuing these works of antiquity, in giving au-
thenticity to our history, or contributing fresh materials to it ;
but his midnight vigils were cheered by no patronage, nor his
labours valued, till the eye that pored on the mutilated MS.
was for ever closed. Of all those curious works of the late
Mr. Strtjtt, which are now bearing such high prices, all were
produced by extensive reading, and illustrated by his own
drawings, from the manuscripts of different epochs in our his-
tory. What was the result to that ingenious artist and
author, who, under the plain simplicity of an antiquary, con-
cealed a fine poetical mind, and an enthusiasm for his beloved
pursuits to which only we are indebted for them ? Strutt,
living in the greatest obscurity, and voluntarily sacrificing all
the ordinary views of lif6, and the trade of his hurin, solely
attached to national antiquities, and charmed by calling them
into a fresh existence under his pencil, I have witnessed at the
British Museum, forgetting for whole days his miseries, in
sedulous research and delightful labour ; at times even doubt-
ful whether he could get his works printed ; for some of
which he was not regaled even with the Roman supper of "a
radish and an egg." How he left his domestic afi'airs, his son
can tell ; how his works have tripled their value, the book-
sellers. In writing on the calamities attending the love of
literary labour, Mr. John Nichols, the modest annalist of the
literary history of the last century, and the friend of half the
departed genius of our country, cannot but occur to me. He
zealously published more than fifty works, illustrating the
literature and the antiquities of the country ; labours not
given to the world without great sacrifices. Bishop Hurd,
with friendly solicitude, writes to Mr Nichols on some of his
own publications, " While you are enriching the Antiquarian
world " (and, by the Life of Bowyer, may be added the Lite-
rary), " I hope you do not forget yourself. The jprofession of
an author^ I know from experience^ is not a lucrative one. —
I only mention this because I see a large catalogue of your
publications." At another time the Bishop writes, " You are
very good to excuse my freedom with you ; but, as times go,
almost any trade is better than that of an author," &e. On
these notes Mr. Nichols confesses, " I have had some occasion
to regret that I did not attend to the judicious suggestions.'*
We owe to the late Thomas Da vies, the author of " Gar-
rick's Life," and other literary works, beautiful editions of
Laborious Authors. 87
some of our elder poets, whieli are now eagerly sought after,
yet, though all his publications were of the best kinds, and
are now of increasing value, the taste of Tom Davies twice
ended in bankruptcy. It is to be lamented for the cause of
literature, that even a bookseller may have too refined a taste
for his trade ; it must always be his interest to float on the
current of public taste, whatever that may be ; should he have
an ambition to create it, he will be anticipating a more culti-
vated curiosity by half a century ; thus the business of a
bookseller rarely accords with the design of advancing our
lit^xature.
(The works of literature, it is then but too evident, receive
no equivalent ; let this be recollected by him who would draw
his existence from them. A young writer often resembles
that imaginary author whom Johnson, in a humorous letter in
"The Idler" (No. 55), represents as having composed a work
" of universal curiosity, computed that it would call for many
editions of his book, and that in five years he should gain
fifteen thousand pounds by the sale of thirty thousand
copies." There are, indeed, some who have been dazzled by
the good fortune of Gibboi^', Eobertson", and Hume ; we
are to consider these favourites, not merely as authors, but as
possessing, by their situation in life, a certain independence
which preserved them from the vexations of the authors I have
noticed. Observe, however, that the uncommon sum Gibbon
received for copyright, though it excited the astonishment of
the philosopher himself, was for the continued labour of a
wJiole life, and probably the library he had purchased for his
work equalled at least in cost the produce of his pen ; the
tools cost the workman as much as he obtained for his work.
Six thousand pounds gained on these terms will keep an author
indigent^^
Many great labours have been designed by their authors
even to be posthumous, prompted only by their love of study
and a patriotic zeal. Bishop Kennett's stupendous " Register
and Chronicle," volume I., is one of those astonishing la-
bours which could only have been produced by the pleasure of
study urged by the strong love of posterity.* It is a diary
* Kennett was characterised throughout life by a strong party feeling,
which he took care to display on every occasion. He was born at Dover in
1660, and his first publication, at the age of twenty, gave great oflFence to
the Whig party ; it was in the form of a letter from a Student at Oxford to a
friend in the country, concerning the approaching parliament. He scarcely
88 Calamities of Authors.
in which the bishop, one of our most studious and active
authors, has recorded every matter of fact, " delivered in the
words of the most authentic books, papers, and records."
The design was to preserve our literary history from the
Bestoration. This silent labour he had been pursuing all his
life, and published the first volume in his sixty-eighth year,
the very year he died. But he was so sensible of the coyness
of the public taste for what he calls, in a letter to a literary
friend, "a tedious heavy book," that he gave it away to the
publisher. " The volume, too large, brings me no profit. In
good truth, the scheme was laid for conscience' sake, to re-
store a good old principle that history should be purely matter
of fact, that every reader, by examining and comparing, may
make out a history by his own judgment. I have collections
transcribed for another volume, if the bookseller will run the
hazard of printing." This volume has never appeared, and
the bookseller probably lost a considerable sum by the one
published, which valuable volume is now procured with
difficulty.*
These laborious authors have commenced their literary life
with a glowing ardour, though the feelings of genius have
been obstructed by those numerous causes which occur too
frequently in the life of a literary man.
Let us listen to Steutt, whom we have just noticed, and
let us learn what he proposed doing in the first age of fancy.
Having obtained the first gold medal ever given at the
Eoyal Academy, he writes to his mother, and thus thanks her
and his friends for their deep interest in his success : —
" I will at least strive to the utmost to give my benefac-
tors no reason to think their pains thrown away. If I should
ever published a sermon without so far mixing party matters in it as to
obtain replies and rejoinders ; the rector of Whitechapel employed an artist
to place his head on Judas's shoulders in the picture of the Last Supper
done for that church, and to make the figure unmistakeable, placed the
j)atch on the forehead which Kennett wore, to conceal a scar he got by the
bursting of a gun. His diligence and application through life was extraor-
dinary. He assisted Anthony Wood in collecting materials for his
** Athense Oxonienses ;" and, like Oldys, was continually employed in
noting books, or in forming manuscript collections on various subjects, all
of which were purchased by the Earl of Shelburne, afterwards Slarquis of
Lansdowne, and were sold with the rest of his manuscripts to the British
Museum. He died in 1714, of a fever he had contracted in a journey to
Italy.— Ed.
* See Bishop Kennett's Letter in Nichols's " Life of Bowyer," vol i,
383.
Laborious Authors. 89
not be able to abound in riches, yet, by God's help, I will
strive to pluck that palm which the greatest artists of fore-
going ages have done before me ; I will strive to leave my
name beJiind me in the world, if not in the splendour that
some have, at least ivith some marks of assiduity and study;
which, I can assure you, shall never be wanting in me. Who
can bear to hear the names of Raphael, Titian, Michael
Angelo, &c., the most famous of the Italian masters, in the
mouth of every one, and not wish to be like them ? And
to be like them, we must study as they have done, take such
pains, and labour continually like them ; the which shall not
be wanting on my side, I dare affirm ; so that, should I not
succeed, I ma}'- rest contented, and say I have done my utmost.
God has blessed me with a mind to undertake. You, dear
madam, will excuse my vanity ; you know me, from my child-
ish days, to have been a vain boy, always desirous to execute
something to gain me praises from every one ; always scheming
and imitating whatever I saw done by anybody."
And when Strutt settled in the metropolis, and studied at
the British Museum, amid all the stores of knowledge and
art, his imagination delighted to expatiate in its future pros-
spects. In a letter to a friend he has thus chronicled his
feelings :
" I would not only be a great antiquary, but a refined
tiiinker ; I would not only discover antiquities, but would, by
explaining their use, render them useful. Such vast funds of
knowledge lie hid in the antiquated remains of the earlier
ages ; these I would bring forth, and set in their true light."
Poor Strutt, at the close of life, was returning to his own
first and natural energies, in producing a work of the imagi-
nation. He had made considerable progress in one, and the
early parts which he had finished bear the stamp of genius ;
it is entitled " Queenhoo-hall, a Romance of ancient times,"
full of the picturesque manners, and costume, and characters
of the age, in which he was so conversant ; with many
lyrical pieces, which often are full of poetic feeling — but he
was called off from the work to prepare a more laborious
one. "Queenhoo-hall" remained a heap of fragments at his
death ; except the first volume, and was filled up by a
stranger hand. The stranger was Sir Walter Scott, and
" Queenhoo-hall" was the origin of that glorious series of
romances where antiquarianism has taken the shape of ima-
gination.
90 Calamities of Authors.
"Writing on the calamities attached to literature, I must
notice one of a more recondite nature, yet perhaps few lite-
rary agonies are more keenly felt. I would not excite an
undue sympathy for a class of writers who are usually con-
sidered as drudges ; but the present case claims our sym-
pathy.
There are men of letters, who, early in life, have formed
some favourite plan of literary labour, which they have un-
remittingly pursued, till, sometimes near the close of life,
they either discover their inability to terminate it, or begin to
depreciate their own constant labour. The literary architect
has grown gray over his edifice ; and, as if the black wand
of enchantment had waved over it, the colonnades become
interminable, the pillars seem to want a foundation, and all
the rich materials he had collected together, lie before him in
all the disorder of ruins. It may be urged that the reward
of literary labour, like the consolations of virtue, must be
drawn with all their sweetness from itself; or, that if the
author be incompetent, he must pay the price of his incapa-
city. This may be Stoicism, but it is not humanity. The
truth is, there is always a latent love of fame, that prompts
to this strong devotion of labour ; and he who has given a
long life to that which he has so much desired, and can never
enjoy, might well be excused receiving our insults, if he can-
not extort our pity.
A remarkable instance occurs in the fate of the late Rev.
William Cole;* he was the college friend of Walpole,
* The best account of the Rev. Wm. Cole is to be found in Nichols's
"Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century," vol. i. Hislifewas eventless,
and passed in studious drudgery. He had all that power of continuous ap-
plication which will readily form immense manuscript collections. In this
way his life was passed, occasionally aiding from his enormous stores the
labours of others. He was an early and intimate acquaintance of Horace
Walpole' s, and they visited France together in 1765. Browne Willis, the
antiquary, gave him the rectory of Blecheley, in Buckinghamshire, and
he was afterwards presented to the vicarage of Burnham, near Eton. He
died in 1782, in the 68th year of his age, having chiefly employed a long
life in noting on all subjects, until his manuscripts became a small library
of themselves, which he bequeathed to the British Museum, with an order
that they should not be opened for twenty years. They are correctly
characterised by Nichols : he says, "many of the volumes exhibit striking
traits of Mr. Cole's own character ; and a man of sufificient leisure might
pick out of them abundance of curious matter." He left a diary behind
him which for puerility could not be exceeded, and of which Nichols
gives several ridiculous specimens. If his parrot died, or his man-servant
was bled ] if he sent a loin of pork to a friend, and got a quarter of lamb
Laborious Authors. 91
Mason, and Gray ; a striking proof how dissimilar habits and
opposite tastes and feelings can associate in literary friend-
ship ; for Cole, indeed, the public had informed him that his
friends were poets and men of wit ; and for them. Cole's pa-
tient and curious turn was useful, and, by its extravagant
trifling, must have been very amusing. He had a gossip's
ear, and a tatler's pen — and, among better things, wrote
down every grain of literary scandal his insatiable and
minute curiosity could lick up ; as patient and voracious as an
ant-eater, he stretched out his tongue till it was covered by
the tiny creatures, and drew them all in at one digestion.
All these tales were registered with the utmost simplicity, as
the reporter received them ; but, being but tales, the exactness
of his truth made them still more dangerous lies, by being per-
petuated ; in his reflections he spared neither friend nor foe ;
yet, still anxious after truth,, and usually telling lies, it is very
amusing to observe, that, as he proceeds, he very laudably
contradicts, or explains away in subsequent memoranda what
he had before registered. Walpole, in a correspondence of
forty years, he was perpetually flattering, though he must
imperfectly have relished his fine taste, while he abhorred his
more liberal principles, to which sometimes he addressed a
submissive remonstrance. He has at times written a letter
coolly, and, at the same moment, chronicled his suppressed
feelings in his diary, with all the flame and sputter of his
strong prejudices. He was expressly nicknamed Cardinal
Cole. These scandalous chronicles, which only show the
violence of his prejudices, without the force of genius, or the
acuteness of penetration, were ordered not to be opened till
twenty years after his decease ; he wished to do as little
mischief as he could, but loved to do some. I well remem-
ber the cruel anxiety which prevailed in the nineteenth year
of these inclosures ; it spoiled the digestions of several of our
literati who had had the misfortune of Cole's intimate
friendship, or enmity. One of these was the writer of the
Life of Thomas Baker, the Cambridge Antiquary, who prog-
nosticated all the evil he among others was to endure ; and,
writhing in fancy under the whip not yet untwisted, justly
enough exclaims in his agony, " The attempt to keep these
in return ; "drank coffee with Mrs. Willis," or " sent two French wigs to
a London barber," all is faithfully recorded. It is a true picture of a lover
of labour, whose constant energy must be employed, and will write even if
the labour be worthless. — Ed.
92 Calamities of Authors.
characters from the pnhlic till the subjects of them shall be
no more, seems to be peculiarly cruel and ungenerous, since it
is precluding them from vindicating themselves from such
injurious aspersions, as their friends, perhaps however willing,
may at that distance of time be incapable of removing.'*
With this author, Mr. Masters, Cole had quarrelled so often,
that Masters writes, " I am well acquainted with the fickle-
ness of his disposition for more than forty j^ears past."
When the lid was removed from this Pandora's box, it
happened that some of his intimate friends were alive to
perceive in what strange figures they were exhibited by their
quondam admirer !
Cole, however, bequeathed to the nation, among his un-
published works, a vast mass of antiquities and historical
collections, and one valuable legacy of literary materials.
When I turned over the papers of this literary antiquary, I
found the recorded cries of a literary martyr.
Cole had passed a long life in the pertinacious labour of
forming an " Athense Cantabrigienses," and other literary
collections — designed as a companion to the work of
Anthony Wood. These mighty labours exist in more than
fifty folio volumes in his own writing. He began these col-
lections about the year 1745 ; in a fly-leaf of 1777 I found
the following melancholy state of his feelings and a literary
confession, as forcibly expressed as it is painful to read, when
we consider that they are the wailings of a most zealous
votary :
"In good truth, whoever undertakes this drudgery of an
* Athense Cantabrigienses' must be contented with no pros-
pect of credit and reputation to himself, and witli the mor-
tifying reflection that after all his pains and study, through
life, he must be looked upon in a humble light, and only as a
journeyman to Anthony Wood, whose excellent book of the
same sort will ever preclude any other, who shall follow him
in the same track, from all hopes of fame ; and will only re-
present him as an imitator of so original a pattern. For, at
this time of day, all great characters, both Cantabrigians and
Oxonians, are already published to the world, either in his
book, or various others ; so that the collection, unless the
same characters are reprinted here, must be made up of
second-rate persons, and the refuse of authorship. — However,
as I have begun, and made so large a progress in this under-
taking, it is death to think of leaving it qff^ though, from the
Laborious Authors. 93
former considerations, so little credit is to be expected
from it."
Such were the fruits, and such the agonies, of nearly half
a century of assiduous and zealous literary labour! Cole
urges a strong claim to be noticed among our literary cala-
mities. Another of his miseries was his uncertainty in what
manner he should dispose of his collections : and he has put
down this naive memorandum — " I have long wavered how
to dispose of all my MS. volumes ; to give them to King's
College^ would be to throw them into a horsepond ; and I had
as lieve do one as the other ; they are generally so conceited of
their Latin and Greeh, that all other studies are barharis?n.^'*
The dread of incompleteness has attended the life-labours
(if the expression may be allowed) of several other authors
who have never published their works. Such was the
learned Bishop Lloyd, and the Eev. Thomas Bakee, who
was first engaged in the same pursuit as Cole, and carried it
on to the extent of about forty volumes in folio. Lloyd is
described by Burnet as having " many volumes of materials
upon all subjects, so that he could, with very little labour,
write on any of them, with more life in his imagination, and
a truer judgment, than may seem consistent with such a
laborious course of study ; but he did not lay out his learn-
ing with the same diligence as he laid it in." It is mortify-
ing to learn, in the words of Johnson, that " he was always
hesitating and inquiring, raising objections, and removing
them, and waiting for clearer light and fuller discovery."
Many of the labours of this learned bishop were at length
consumed in the kitchen of his descendant. " Baker (says
Johnson), after many years passed in biography, left his
manuscripts to be buried in a library, because that was im-
perfect which could never be perfected." And to complete
the absurdity, or to heighten the calamity which the want
of these useful labours makes every literary man feel, half of
the collections of Baker sleep in their dust in a turret of the
University ; while the other, deposited in our national library
at the British Museum, and frequently used, are rendered
imperfect by this unnatural divorce.
I will illustrate the character of a laborious author by that
of Anthony Wood.
* Cole's collection, ultimately bequeathed by him to the British Museum,
is comprised in 92 volumes, and is arranged among the additional manu-
scripts there, of which it forms Nos. 5798 to 5887. — Ee.
94 Calamities of Authors.
Wood's " Atlienre Oxonienses" is a history of near a
thousand of our native authors ; he paints their characters,
and enters into the spirit of their writings. But authors of
this complexion, and works of this nature, are liable to be
slighted ; for the fastidious are petulant, the volatile inexpe-
rienced, and those who cultivate a single province in lite-
rature are disposed, too often, to lay all others under a state
of interdiction.
Waebueton, in a work thrown out in the heat of un-
chastised youth, and afterwards withdrawn from public in-
quiry, has said of the " Athense Oxonienses" —
" Of all those writings given us by the learned Oxford
antiquary, there is not one that is not a disgrace to letters ;
most of them are so to common sense, and some even to
human nature. Yet how set out ! how tricked ! how
adorned ! how extolled !"*
The whole tenor of Wood's life testifies, as he himself tells
us, that " books and MSS. formed his Elysium, and he wished
to be dead to the world." This sovereign passion marked him
early in life, and the image of death could not disturb it.
When young, " he walked mostly alone, was given much to
thinking and melancholy." The delicice of his life were the
more liberal studies of painting and music, intermixed with
those of antiquity ; nor could his family, who checked such
unproductive studies, ever check his love of them. With
what a firm and noble spirit he says —
" When he came to full years, he perceived it was his na-
tural genie, and he could not avoid them — they crowded on
him — he could never give a reason why he should delight in
those studies, more than in others, so prevalent was nature,
mixed with a generosity of mind, and a hatred to all that
was servile, sneaking, or advantageous for lucre-sake."
These are not the roundings of a period, but the pure ex-
pressions of a man who had all the simplicity of childhood in
his feelings. Could such vehement emotions have been ex-
cited in the unanimated breast of a clod of literature ? Thus
early Anthony Wood betrayed the characteristics of genius ;
nor did the literary passion desert him in his last moments.
With his dying hands he still grasped his beloved papers,
and his last mortal thoughts dwelt on his Athence Oxonienses.^
* In his "Critical and Philosophical Enquiry into the Causes of
Prodigies."
t This, his most valuable work, has been most carefully edited, with
Laborious Authors. 95
It is no common occurrence to view an author speechless
in the hour of death, yet fervently occupied by his posthumous
fame. Two friends went into his study to sort that vast
multitude of papers, notes, letters — his more private ones he
had ordered not to be opened for seven j'-ears ; about two
bushels full were ordered for the fire, which they had lighted
for the occasion. " As he was expiring, he expressed both his
knowledge and approbation of what was done by throwing
out his hands."
Turn over his Herculean labour ; do not admire less his
fearlessness of danger, than his indefatigable pursuit of truth.
He wrote of his contemporaries as if he felt a right to judge
of them, and as if he were living in the succeeding age;
courtier, fanatic, or papist, were much alike to honest An-
thony ; for he professes himself " such an universal lover of all
mankind, that he wished there might be no cheat put upon
readers and writers in the business of commendations. And
(says he) since every one will have a double balance, one for
his own party, and another for his adversary, all he could do
is to amass together what every side thinks will make best
weight for themselves. Let posterity hold the scales."
Anthony might have added, "I have held them." This
uninterrupted activity of his spirits was the action of a sage,
not the bustle of one intent merely on heaphig up a book.
" He never wrote in post, with his body and thoughts in a
hurry, but in a fixed abode, and with a deliberate pen. And
he never concealed an ungrateful truth, nor flourished over a
weak place, but in sincerity of meaning and expression."
Anthony Wood cloistered an athletic mind, a hermit critic
abstracted from the world, existing more with posterity than
amid his contemporaries. His prejudices were the keener
from the very energies of the mind that produced them ; but,
as he practises no deception on his reader, we know the causes
of his anger or his love. And, as an original thinker creates
a style for himself, from the circumstance of not attending
to style at all, but to feeling, so Anthony Wood's has all the
peculiarity of the writer. Critics of short views have at-
tempted to screen it from ridicule, attributing his uncouth
style to the age he lived in. But not one in his own time
nor since, has composed in the same style. The austerity
numerous additions by Dr. Bliss, and is the great authority for Lives of
Oxford men. Its author, born at Oxford in 1632, died there in 1695, having
devoted his life strictly to study. — Ed.
96 Calamities of Authors,
and the quickness of his feelings vigorously stamped all their
roughness and vivacity on every sentence. He describes his
own style as " an honest, plain English dress, without flou-
rishes or affectation of style, as best becomes a history of
truth and matters of fact. It is the first (work) of its na-
ture that has ever been printed in our own, or in any other
mother-tongue."
It is, indeed, an honest Montaigne-like simplicity. Acri-
monious and cynical, he is always sincere, and never dull.
Old Anthony to me is an admirable character-painter, for
anger and love are often picturesque. And among our lite-
rary historians he might be compared, for the effect he pro-
duces, to Albert Durer, whose kind of antique rudeness has a
sharp outline, neither beautiful nor flowing ; and, without a
genius for the magic of light and shade, he is too close a
copier of Nature to affect us by ideal forms.
The independence of his mind nerved his ample volumes,
his fortitude he displayed in the contest with the University
itself, and his firmness in censuring Lord Clarendon, the head
of his own party. Could such a work, and such an original
manner, have proceeded from an ordinary intellect? Wit
may sparkle, and sarcasm may bite ; but the cause of lite-
rature is injured when the industry of such a mind is ranked
with that of " the hewers of wood, and drawers of water :"
ponderous compilers of creeping commentators. Such a work
as the " Athense Oxonienses" involved in its pursuits some of
the higher qualities of the intellect ; a voluntary devotion of
life, a sacrifice of personal enjoyments, a noble design com-
bining many views, some present and some prescient, a clear
vigorous spirit equally diffused over a vast surface. But it is
the hard fate of authors of this class to be levelled with their
infeiiors !
Let us exhibit one more picture of the calamities of a labo-
rious author, in the character of Joshua Barnes, editor of
Homer, Euripides, and Anacreon, and the writer of a vast
number of miscellaneous compositions in history and poetry.
Besides the works he published, he left behind him nearly fifty
unfinished ones ; many were epic poems, all intended to be in
twelve books, and some had reached their eighth ! His folio
volume of " The History of Edward III." is a labour of valu-
able research. He wrote with equal facility in Greek, Latin,
and his own language, and he wrote all his days ; and, in a
word, having little or nothing but his Greek professorship,
Laborious Authors, 97
not exceeding forty pounds a year, Barnes, who had a great
memory, a little imagination, and no judgment, saw the close
of a life, devoted to the studies of humanity, settle around
him in gloom and despair. The great idol of his mind was
the edition of his Homer, which seems to have completed
his ruin ; he was haunted all his days with a notion that he
was persecuted by envy, and much undervalued in the world ;
the sad consolation of the secondary and third-rate authors,
who often die persuaded of the existence of ideal enemies.
To be enabled to publish his Homer at an enormous charge,
he wrote a poem, the desio-n of which is to prove that Solomon
was the author of the Iliad ; and it has been said that this
was done to interest his wife, who had some property, to lend
her aid towards the publication of so divine a work. This
happy pun was applied for his epitaph : —
Joshua Babnes,
Felicis memorise, judicium expectans.
Here lieth
Joshua Barnes,
Of happy memory, awaiting judgment !
The year before he died he addressed the following letter
to the Earl of Oxford, which I transcribe from the original.
It is curious to observe how the veteran and mihappy scribbler,
after his vows of retirement from the world of letters,
thoroughly disgusted with " all human learning," gently hints
to his patron, that he has ready for the press, a singular
variety of contrasted works ; yet even then he did not ven-
ture to disclose one-tenth part of his concealed treasures !
" TO THE EABL OE OXEOED.
" Mt Hon. Loed, Oct. 16, 1711.
" This, not in any doubt of your goodness and high
respect to learning, for I have fresh instances of it every day ;
but because I am prevented in my design of waiting per-
sonally on you, being called away by my business for
Cambridge, to read Greek lectures this term ; and my circum-
stances are pressing, being, through the combination of book-
sellers, and the meaner arts of others, too much prejudiced in
the sale. I am not neither sufficiently ascertained whether
my Homer and letters came to your honour ; surely the vast
charges of that edition has almost broke my courage, there
being much more trouble in putting off the impression, and
H
98 Calamities of Authors,
contending with a subtle and unkind world, than in all the
study and management of the press.
" Others, my lord, are younger, and their hopes and helps
are fresher ; I have done as much in the way of learning as
any man living, but have received less encouragement than
any, having nothing but my Grreek professorship, which is
but forty pounds per annum, that I can call my own, and
more than half of that is taken up by my expenses of lodging
and diet in terme time at Cambridge.
" I was obliged to take up three hundred and fifty pounds
on interest towards this last work, whereof I still owe two
hundred pounds, and two hundred more for the printing ; the
whole expense arising to about one thousand pounds. I
have lived in the university above thirty years, fellow of a
college now above forty years' standing, and fifty-eight years
of age ; am bachelor of divinity, and have preached before
kings ; but am now your honour's suppliant, and would fain
retire from the study of humane learning, which has been so
little beneficial to me, if I might have a little prebend, or
sufficient anchor to lay hold on ; only I have two or three
matters ready for the press — an ecclesiastical history, Latin ;
an heroic poem of the Black Prince, Latin ; another of Queen
Anne, English, finished ; a treatise of Columnes, Latin ; and
an accurate treatise about Homer, Greek, Latin, &c. I would
fain be permitted the honour to make use of your name in
some one, or most of these, and to be, &c.,
" Joshua Babnes."*
He died nine months afterwards. Homer did not improve
in sale ; and the sweets of patronage were not even tasted.
This, then, is the history of a man of great learning, of the
most pertinacious industry, but somewhat allied to the family
of the Scrihleri.
THE DESPAIR OF YOQNa POETS.
William Pattison was a young poet who perished in his
twentieth year ; his character and his fate resemble those of
Chatterton. He was one more child of that family of genius,
whose passions, like the torch, kindle but to consume them-
selves.
* Harleian MSS. 7523.
The Despair of Young Poets. 99
The youth of Pattison was that of a poet. Many become
irrecoverably poets by local influence; and Beattie could
hardly have thrown his "Minstrel" into a more poetical
solitude than the singular spot which was haunted by our
young bard. His first misfortune was that of having an
anti-poetical parent ; his next was that of having discovered
a spot which confirmed his poetical habits, inspiring all the
melancholy and sensibility he loved to indulge. This spot,
which in his fancy resembled some favourite description in
Cowley, he called " Cowley's Walk." Some friend, who was
himself no common painter of fancy, has delineated the whole
scenery with minute touches, and a freshness of colouring,
warm with reality. Such a poetical habitation becomes a
part of the poet himself, reflecting his character, and even
descriptive of his manners.
" On one side of 'Cowley's Walk' is a huge rock, grown
over with moss and ivy climbing on its sides, and in some
parts small trees spring out of the crevices of the rock ; at
the bottom are a wild plantation of irregular trees, in every
part looking aged and venerable. Among these cavities, one
larger than the rest was the cave he loved to sit in : arched
like a canopy, its rustic borders were edged with ivy hanging
down, overshadowing the place, and hence he called it (for
poets must give a name to every object they love) ' Hede-
rinda,' bearing ivy. At the foot of this grotto a stream of
water ran along the walk, so that its level path had trees
and water on one side, and a wild rough precipice on the
other. In winter, this spot looked full of horror — the naked
trees, the dark rock, and the desolate waste ; but in the
spring, the singing of the birds, the fragrancy of the flowers,
and the murmuring of the stream, blended all their enchant-
ment."
Here, in the heat of the day, he escaped into the " Hede-
rinda," and shared with friends his rapture and his solitude ;
and here through summer nights, in the light of the moon,
he meditated and melodised his verses by the gentle fall of
the waters. Thus was Pattison fixed and bound up in the
strongest spell the demon of poetry ever drew around a sus-
ceptible and careless youth.
He was now a decided poet. At Sidney College, in Cam-
bridge, he was greatly loved ; till, on a quarrel with a rigid
tutor, he rashly cut his name out of the college book, and
quitted it for ever in utter thoughtlessness and gaiety, leaving
H 2
100 Calamities of Authors.
his gown behind, as his locum tenens, to make his apology, by
pinning on it a satirical farewell.
Wtoever gives himself the pains to stoop,
And take my venerable tatters up,
To his presuming inquisition I,
In loco Pattisoni, thus reply :
*' Tired with the senseless jargon of the gown,
My master left the college for the town,
And scorns his precious minutes to regale
With wretched college-wit and college-ale."
He flew to the metropolis to take up the trade of a poet.
A translation of Ovid's " Epistles" had engaged his atten-
tion during two years ; his own genius seemed inexhaustible ;
and pleasure and fame were awaiting the poetical emigrant. He
resisted all kind importunities to return to college ; he could
not endure submission, and declares " his spirit cannot bear
control." One friend " fears the innumerable temptations to
which one of his complexion is liable in such a populous
place." Pattison was much loved ; he had all the generovis
impetuosity of youthful genius ; but he had resolved on run-
ning the perilous career of literary glory, and he added one
more to the countless thousands who perish in obscurity.
His first letters are written with the same spirit that dis-
tinguishes Chatterton's ; all he hopes he seems to realise. He
mixes among the wits, dates from Button's, and drinks with
Concanen healths to college friends, till they lose their own ;
more dangerous Muses condescend to exhibit themselves to
the young poet in the park ; and he was to be introduced to
Pope. All is exultation ! Miserable youth ! The first thought
of prudence appears in a resolution of soliciting subscriptions
from all persons, for a volume of poems.
His young friends at college exerted their warm patronage ;
those in his native North condemn him, and save their
crowns ; Pope admits of no interview, but lends his name,
and bestows half-a-crown for a volume of poetry, which he
did not want ; the poet wearies kindness, and would extort
charity even from brother-poets ; petitions lords and ladies ;
and, as his wants grow on him, his shame decreases.
How the scene has changed in a few months ! He acknow-
ledges to a friend, that " his heart was broke through the
misfortunes he had fallen under ;" he declares " he feels him-
self near the borders of death." In moments like these he
probably composed the following lines, awfully addressed,
The Despair oj Young Poets, 101
AD CCELUm!
Good heaven ! this mystery of life explain,
Nor let me think I bear the load in vain ;
Lest, with the tedious passage cheerless grown,
Urged by despair, I throw the burden down.
But the torture of genius, when all its passions are strained
on the rack, was never more pathetically expressed than in the
following letter : —
" Sir, — If you was ever touched with a sense of humanity,
consider my condition : what 1 am, my proposals will inform
you ; what I have teen, Sidney College, in Camhridge, can
witness ; but what I shall he some few hours hence, I tremble
to think ! Spare my blushes ! — I have not enjoyed the com-
mon necessaries of life for these two days, and can hardly
hold to subscribe myself,
"Yours, &c."
The picture is finished — it admits not of another stroke.
Such was the complete misery which Savage, Boyse, Chat-
terton, and more innocent spirits devoted to literature,
have endured — but not long — for they must perish in their
youth !
Henet Caret was one of our most popular poets; he,
indeed, has unluckily met with only dictionary critics, or
what is as fatal to genius, the cold and undistinguishing com-
mendation of grave men on subjects of humour, wit, and the
lighter poetry. The works of Carey do not appear in any of
our great collections, where Walsh, Duke, and Yalden slumber
on the shelf.
Yet Carey was a true son of the Muses, and the most suc-
cessful writer in our language. He is the author of several
little national poems. In early life he successfully burlesqued
the affected versification of Ambrose Philips, in his baby
poems, to which he gave the fortunate appellation of " Namby
Famby, a panegyric on the new versification ;" a term descrip-
tive in sound of those chiming follies, and now become a tech-
nical term in modern criticism. Carey's " Namby Paraby" was
at first considered by Swift as the satirical effusion of Pope,
and by Pope as the humorous ridicule of Swift. His ballad of
" Sally in our Alley" was more than once commended for its
nature by Addison, and is sung to this day. Of the national
song, " God save the King," it is supposeol he was the author
102 Calamities of Authors.
both of the words and of the music* He was veiy successful
on the stage, and wrote admirable burlesques of the Italian
Opera, in " The Dragon of Wantley," and " The Dragoness;"
and the mock tragedy of " Chrononhotonthologos" is not
forgotten. Among his Poems lie still concealed several ori-
ginal pieces ; those which have a political turn are particu-
larly good, for the politics of Carey were those of a poet and
a patriot. I refer the politician who has any taste for poetry
and humour to " The Grumbletonians, or the Dogs without
doors, a Fable," very instructive to those grown-up folks,
" The Ins and the Outs." " Carey's Wish" is in this class ;
and, as the purity of election remains still among the desi-
derata of every time Briton, a poem on that subject by the
patriotic author of our national hymn of " Grod save the King"
may be acceptable.
Carey's wish,
•
Cursed be the wretcli that's bought and sold.
And barters liberty for gold ;
For when election is not free,
In vain we boast of liberty :
And he who sells his single right,
Would sell his country, if he might.
When liberty is put to sale
For wine, for money, or for ale.
The sellers must be abject slaves,
The buyers vile designing knaves;
A proverb it has been of old,
The devil's bought but to be sold.
This maxim in the statesman's school
Is always taught, divide and rule.
All parties are to him a joke :
While zealots foam, he fits the yoke.
Let men their reason once resume ;
'Tis then the statesman's turn to fume.
* The late Richard Clark, of the Chapel Royal and Westminster Abbey,
published in 1823 **An Account of the National Anthem, entitled God
save the King," in which he satisfactorily proves " that Carey neither had,
nor could have had, any claim at all to this composition," which he traces
back to the celebrated composer, Dr. John Bull, who he believes composed
it for the entertainment given by the Merchant Taylors Company to King
James I., in 1607. Ward, in his "Lives of the Gresham Professors,"
gives a list of Bull's compositions, then in the possession of Dr. Pepusch
(who arranged the music for the Beggar's Opera), and Art. 56 is "God
save the King." At the Doctor's death, his manuscripts, amounting to
two cartloads, were scattered or sold for waste-paper, and this was one of
the number. Clark ultimately recovered this MS. — Ed.
The Despair of Young Poets, 103
, • ■ Learn, learn, ye Britons, to unite ;
Leave off the old exploded bite ;
Henceforth let Whig and Tory cease,
And turn all party rage to peace ;
Eouse and revive your ancient glory ;
Unite, and drive the world before you.
To the ballad of " Sally in our Alley" Carey has prefixed
an argument so full of nature, that the song may hereafter
derive an additional interest from its simple origin. The
author assures the reader that the popular notion that the
subject of his ballad had been the noted Sally Sahsbury,
is perfectly erroneous, he being a stranger to her name at the
time the song was composed.
" As innocence and virtue were ever the boundaries of his
Muse, so in this little poem he had no other view than to set
forth the beauty of a chaste and disinterested passion, even
in the lowest class of human life. The real occasion was this :
A shoemaker's 'prentice, making holiday with his sweetheart,
treated her with a sight of Bedlam, the puppet-shows, the
flying-chairs, and all the elegancies of Moorfields ; from whence,
proceeding to the Farthing Pye-house, he gave her a collation
of buns, cheesecakes, gammon of bacon, stuffed beef, and bot-
tled ale ; through all which scenes the author dodged them
(charmed with the simplicity of their courtship), from whence
he drew this little sketch of Nature ; but, being then young
and obscure, he was very much ridiculed for this perform-
ance ; which, nevertheless, made its way into the polite world,
and amply recompensed him by the applause of the divine
Addison, who was pleased (more than once) to mention it
with approbation."
In " The Poet's Kesentment " poor Carey had once for-
sworn " the harlot Muse :" —
Far, far away then chase the harlot Muse,
Nor let her thus thy noon of life abuse ;
Mix with the common crowd, unheard, unseen,
And if again thou tempt'st the vulgar praise,
Mayst thou be crown' d with birch instead of bays !
Poets make such oaths in sincerity, and break them in
rapture.
At the time that this poet could neither walk the streets
nor be seated at the convivial board, without listening to his
own songs and his own music — for, in truth, the whole. nation
was echoing his verse, and crowded theatres were applauding
104 Calamities of Authors,
his wit and humour — while this very man himself, urged by
his strong humanity, founded a " Fund for decayed Musi-
cians" — he was so broken-hearted, and his own common com-
forts so utterly neglected, that in despair, not waiting for
nature to relieve him from the burden of existence, he laid
violent hands on himself; and when found dead, had only a
halfpenny in his pocket ! Such was the fate of the author of
some of the most popular pieces in our language. He left a
son, who inherited his misery, and a gleam of his genius.
THE MISERIES OF THE FIRST ENGLISH COMMENTATOR.
Dr. Zachaet Grey, the editor of " Hudibras," is the father of
our modern commentators.* His case is rather peculiar ; I
know not whether the father, by an odd anticipation, was
doomed to suffer for the sins of his children, or whether his
own have been visited on the third generation ; it is certain
that never was an author more overpowered by the attacks he
received from the light and indiscriminating shafts of ignorant
wits. He was ridiculed and abused for having assisted us to
comprehend the wit of an author, which, without that aid, at
this day would have been nearly lost to us ; and whose singu-
lar subject involved persons and events which required the very
thing he gave, — historical and explanatory notes.
A first thought, and all the danger of an original invention,
which is always imperfectly understood by the superficial, was
poor Dr. Grey's merit. He was modest and laborious, and
he had the sagacity to discover what Butler wanted, and
what the public required. His project was a happy thought,
to commentate on a singular work which has scarcely a parallel
in modern literature, if we except the " Satyre Menippee "
of the French, which is, in prose, the exact counterpart of
"Hudibras" in rhyme ; for our rivals have had the same state
revolution, in which the same dramatic personages passed
* Dr. Zaclmry Grey was throughout a long life a busy contributor to
literature. The mere list of his productions, in divinity and history,
»ccupy some pages of our biographical dictionaries. He was born 1687,
and died at Ampthill, in Bedfordshire, in 1766. In private he was noted
for mild and pleasing manners. His ** Hudibras," which was first pub-
lished in 1744, in two octavo volumes, is now the standard edition. — Ed.
The Miseries of the First English Commentator. 105
over their national stage, with the same incidents, in the civil
wars of the ambitious Guises, and the citizen-reformers. They,
too, found a Butler, though in prose, a G-rey in Duchat, and,
as well as they could, a Hogarth. An edition, which
appeared in 1711, might have served as the model of Grey's
Hubidras.
It was, however, a happy thought in our commentator, to
turn over the contemporary writers to collect the events and
discover the personages alluded to by Butler ; to read what
the poet read, to observe what the poet observed. This was
at once throwing himself and the reader back into an age, of
which even thelikenesshad disappeared, and familiarising us with
distant objects, which had been lost to us in the haze and mists
of time. For this, not only a new mode of travelling, but a
new road was to be opened ; the secret history, the fugitive
pamphlet, the obsolete satire, the ancient comedy — such were
the many curious volumes whose dust was to be cleared away,
to cast a new radiance on the fading colours of a moveable
picture of manners ; the wittiest ever exhibited to mankind.
This new mode of research, even at this moment, is imperfectly
comprehended, still ridiculed even by those who could never ,
have understood a writer who will only be immortal in the
degree he is comprehended — and whose wit could not have
been felt but for the laborious curiosity of him whose " read-
ing " has been too often aspersed for " such reading "
As was never read.
Grey was outrageously attacked by all the wits, first by
Warburton, in his preface to Shakspeare, who declares that
" he hardly thinks there ever appeared so execrable a heap of
nonsense under the name of commentaries, as hath been lately
given us on a certain satyric poet of the last age." It is
odd enough, Warburton had himself contributed towards these
very notes, but, for some cause which has not been discovered,
had quarrelled with Dr. Grey. I will venture a conjecture
on this great conjectural critic. Warburton was always medi-
tating to give an edition of his own of our old writers, and
the sins he committed against Shakspeare he longed to
practise on Butler, whose times were, indeed, a favourite period
of his researches. Grey had anticipated him, and though
Warburton had half reluctantly yielded the few notes he had
prepared, his proud heart sickened when he beheld the
106 Calamities of Authors
amazing subscription Grey obtained for his first edition of
"Hudibras ;" he received for that work 1500Z.* — a proof that
this publication was felt as a want by the public.
Such, however, is one of those blunt, dogmatic censures in
which Warburton abounds, to impress his readers with the
weight of his opinions ; this great man wrote more for effect
than any other of our authors, as appears by his own or some
friend's confession, that if his edition of Shakspeare did no
honour to that bard, this was not the design of the commen-
tator — which was only to do honour to himself by a display
of his own exuberant erudition.
The poignant Fielding, in his preface to his " Journey to
Lisbon," has a fling at the gravity of our doctor. "The
laborious, much-read Dr. Z. Grrey, of whose redundant notes
on ' Hudibras' I shall only say that it is, I am confident, the
single book extant in which above 500 authors are quoted, not
one of which could be found in the collection of the late Dr.
Mead." Mrs. Montague, in her letters, severely characterises
the miserable father of English commentators ; she wrote in
youth and spirits, with no knowledge of books, and hefore
even the unlucky commentator had published his work, but wit
is the bolder by anticipation. She observes that " his dul-
ness may be a proper ballast for doggrel ; and it is better that
his stupidity should make jest dull than serious and sacred
things ridiculous ;" alluding to his numerous theological
tracts.
Such then are the hard returns which some authors are
doomed to receive as the rewards of useful labours from those
who do not even comprehend their nature ; a wit should not
be admitted as a critic till he has first proved by his gravity,
or his dulness if he chooses, that he has some knowledge ; for
it is the privilege and nature of wit to write fastest and best
on what it least understands. Knowledge only encumbers and
confines its flights.
THE LIFE OF AN AUTHORESS.
Of all the sorrows in which the female character may partici-
pate, there are few more aflecting than those of an authoress ;
— often insulated and unprotected in society — with all the
sensibility of the sex, encountering miseries which break the
♦ Cole's MSS.
The Life of an Authoress. 107
spirits of men ; with the repugnance arising from that delicacy
which trembles when it quits its retirement.
My acquaintance with an unfortunate lady of the name of
Eliza Etves, was casual and interrupted ; yet I witnessed
the bitterness of " hope deferred, which maketh the heart
sick." She sunk, by the slow wastings of grief, into a grave
which probably does not record the name of its martyr of
literature.
She was descended from a family of distinction in Ireland ;
but as she expressed it, " she had been deprived of her birth-
right by the chicanery of law." In her former hours of tran-
quillity she had published some elegant odes, had written a
tragedy and comedies — all which remained in MS. In her
distress she looked up to her pen as a source of existence ; and
an elegant genius and a woman of polished manners com-
menced the life of a female trader in literature.
Conceive the repulses of a modest and delicate woman in
her attempts to appreciate the value of a manuscript with its
purchaser. She has frequently returned from the booksellers
to her dreadful solitude to hasten to her bed — in all the bodily
pains of misery, she has sought in uneasy slumbers a tempo-
rary forgetfulness of griefs which were to recur on the
morrow. Elegant literature is always of doubtful acceptance
with the public, and Eliza Ryves came at length to try the
most masculine exertions of the pen. She wrote for one news-
paper much political matter ; but the proprietor was too great
a politician for the writer of politics, for he only praised the
labour he never paid ; much poetry for another, in which,
being one of the correspondents of Delia Crusca, in payment
of her verses she got nothing but verses ; the most astonish-
ing exertion for a female pen was the entire composition of
the historical and political portion of some Annual Register.
So little profitable were all these laborious and original efibrts,
that every day did not bring its " daily bread." Yet even in
her poverty her native benevolence could make her generous;
for she has deprived herself of her meal to provide with one
an unhappy family dwelHng under the same roof.
Advised to adopt the mode of translation, and being igno-
rant of the French language, she retired to an obscure lodging
at Islington, which she never quitted till she had produced a
good version of Rousseau's "Social Compact," Raynal's
" Letter to the National Assembly," and finally translated
De la Croix's " Review of the Constitutions of the principal
108 Calamities of Authors.
States in Europe," in two large volumes with intelligent
notes. All these works, so much at variance with her taste,
left her with her health much broken, and a mind which might
be said to have nearly survived the body.
Yet even at a moment so unfavourable, her ardent spirit
engaged in a translation of Froissart. At the British Museum
I have seen her conning over the magnificent and voluminous
MS. of the old chronicler, and by its side Lord Berners' ver-
sion, printed in the reign of Henry VIII. It was evident
that his lordship was employed as a spy on Froissart, to inform
her of what was going forward in the French camp ; and she
«oon perceived, for her taste was delicate, that it required an
ancient lord and knight, with all his antiquity of phrase,
to break a lance with the still more ancient chivalric
Frenchman. The famihar elegance of modern style failed
to preserve the picturesque touches and the naive graces
of the chronicler, who wrote as the mailed knight combated
— roughly or gracefully, as suited the tilt or the field. She
vailed to Lord Berners ; while she felt it was here necessary
to understand old French, and then to write it in old
English.* During these profitless labours hope seemed to be
whispering in her lonely study. Her comedies had been in
possession of the managers of the theatres during several
years. They had too much merit to be rejected, perhaps too
little to be acted. Year passed over year, and the last still
repeated the treacherous promise of its brother. The mys-
terious arts of procrastination are by no one so well system-
atised as b}'- the theatrical manager, nor its secret sorrows so
deeply felt as by the dramatist. One of her comedies. The
Debt of Honour, had been warmly approved at both theatres
— where probably a copy of it may still be found. To the
honour ^f one of the managers, he presented her with a
hundred pounds on his acceptance of it. Could she avoid then
flattering herself with an annual harvest ?
But even this generous gift, which involved in it such
golden promises, could not for ten years preserve its delusion.
"I feel," said Eliza Kyves, "the necessity of some powerful
patronage, to bring my comedies forward to the world with
eclat, and secure them an admiration which, should it even be
deserved, is seldom bestowed, unless some leading judge of
literary merit gives the sanction of his applause ; and then
* This version of Lord Berners has been reprinted.
The Life of an Authoress. 109
the world will chime in with his opinion, without taking the
trouble to inform themselves whether it be founded in justice
or partiality." She never suspected that her comedies were
not comic ! — but who dare hold an argument with an ingenious
mind, when it reasons from a right principle, with a wrong
application to itself? It is true that a writer's connexions
have often done a great deal for a small author, and enabled
some favourites of literary fashion to enjoy a usurped reputa-
tion ; but it is not so evident that Eliza Ryves was a comic
writer, although, doubtless, she appeared another Menander
to herself. And thus an author dies in a delusion of self-
flattery !
The character of Eliza Ryves was rather tender and melan-
choly, than brilliant and gay ; and like the bruised perfume
— breathing sweetness when broken into pieces. She traced
her sorrows in a work of fancy, where her feelings were at
least as active as her imagination. It is a small volume, en-
titled "The Hermit of Snowden.": Albert, opulent and
fashionable, feels a passion for Lavinia, and meets the kindest
return ; but, having imbibed an ill opinion of women from his
licentious connexions, he conceived they were slaves of pas-
sion, or of avarice. He wrongs the generous nature of
Lavinia, by suspecting her of mercenary views ; hence arise
the perplexities of the hearts of both. Albert affects to be
ruined, and spreads the report of an advantageous match.
Lavinia feels all the delicacy of her situation ; she loves, but
" she never told her love." She seeks for her existence in
her literary labours, and perishes in want.
In the character of Lavinia, our authoress, with all the
melancholy sagacity of genius, foresaw and has described her
own death ! — the dreadful solitude to which she was latterly
condemned, when in the last stage of her poverty ; her frugal
mode of life ; her acute sensibility ; her defrauded hopes ; and
her exalted fortitude. She has here formed a register of all
that occurred in her solitary existence. I will give one scene
— to me it is pathetic — for it is like a scene at which I was
present : —
" Lavinia's lodgings were about two miles from town, in
an obscure situation. I was showed up to a mean apartment,
where Lavinia was sitting at work, and in a dress which in-
dicated the greatest economy. I inquired what success she
had met with in her dramatic pursuits. She waved her
»ead, and, with a melancholy smile, replied, * that her hopes
110 Calamities of Authors,
of ever bringing any piece on the stage were now entirely-
over ; for she found that more interest was necessary for the
purpose than she could command, and that she had for that
reason laid aside her comedy for ever !' While she was talk-
ing, came in a favourite dog of Lavinia's, which I had used
to caress. The creature sprang to my arms, and I received
him with my usual fondness. Lavinia endeavoured to conceal
a tear which trickled down her cheek. Afterwards she said,
' Now that I live entirely alone, I show Juno more attention
than I had used to do formerly. The heart wants something
to he kind to ; and it consoles us for the loss of society, to
see even an animal derive happiness from the endearments we
bestow upon it.' "
Such was Eliza Ryves ! not beautiful nor interesting in
her person, but with a mind of fortitude, susceptible of all
the delicacy of feminine softness, and virtuous amid her
despair.*
THE INDISCRETION OF AN HISTORIAN.
THOMAS CARTE,
" Caete," says Mr. Hallam, " is the most exact historian we
have;" and Daines Barrington prefers his authority to that
of any other, and many other writers confirm this opinion.
Yet had this historian been an ordinary compiler, he could
not have incurred a more mortifying fate ; for he was com-
pelled to retail in shilling numbers that invaluable history
which we have only learned of late times to appreciate, and
which was the laborious fruits of self-devotion.
Carte was the first of our historians who had the sagacity
and the fortitude to ascertain where the true sources of our
history lie. He discovered a new world beyond the old one
of our research, and not satisfied in gleaning the res historica
from its original writers — a merit which has not always been
possessed by some of our popular historians — Carte opened
those subterraneous veins of secret history from whence even
the original writers of our history, had they possessed them,
* Those who desire to further investigate the utter misery of female
authorship may be referred to Whyte's vivid description of an interview
with Mrs. Clarke (the daughter of Colley Gibber), about the purchase of a
novel. It is appended to an edition of his own poems, printed at Dublin,
1792; and has been reproduced in Hone's '* Table Book," vol. i. — Ed.
The Indiscretion of an Historian, 111
might have drawn fresh knowledge and more ample views.
Our domestic or civil history was scarcely attempted till
Carte planned it ; while all his laborious days and his literary
travels on the Continent were absorbed in the creation of a
History of England and of a Fublic Library in the metro-
polis, for we possessed neither. A diligent foreigner, Rapin,
had compiled our history, and had opportunely found in
the vast collection of Rymer's " Fcedera" a rich accession of
knowledge ; but a foreigner could not sympathise with the
feelings, or even understand the language, of the domestic
story of our nation ; our rolls and records, our state-letters, the
journals of parliament, and those of the privy-council ; an
abundant source of private memoirs ; and the hidden treasures
in the state-paper office, the Cottonian and Harleian libraries ;
all these, and much besides, the sagacity of Carte contem-
plated. He had further been taught — by his own examina-
tion of the true documents of history, which he found preserved
among the ancient families of France, who with a warm
patriotic spirit, worthy of imitation, " often carefully preserved
in their families the acts of their ancestors ;" and the tresor
des chart es and the depot pour les affaires etr anger es (the state-
paper office of France), — that the history of our country is
interwoven with that of its neighbours, as well as with that of
our own countrymen.*
Carte, with these enlarged views, and firm with diligence
which never paused, was aware that such labours — both for the
expense and assistance they demand — exceeded the powers of
a private individual ; but " what a single man cannot do,"
he said, " may be easily done by a society, and the value of an
opfera subscription would be sufficient to patronise a History
of England." His valuable " History of the Duke of Ormond"
had sufficiently announced the sort of man who solicited this
necessary aid ; nor was the moment unpropitious to his fondest
hopes, for a Society for the Encouragement of Learning had
been formed, and this impulse of public spirit, however weak,
had, it would seem, roused into action some unexpected
quarters. When Carte's project was made known, a large
subscription was raised to defray the expense of transcripts,
and afford a sufficient independence to the historian ; many of
the nobility and the gentry subscribed ten or twenty guineas
* It is much to the honour of Carte, that the French acknowledge that
his publication of the "Rolles Gascognes" gave to them the first idea of
their learned work, the "Notice des Diplomes."
112 Calamities of Authors.
annually, and several of the corporate bodies in the city
honourably appeared as the public patrons of the literature of
their nation. He had, perhaps, nearly a thousand a year
subscribed, which he employed on the History. Thus every-
thing promised fair both for the history and for the historian
of our fatherland, and about this time he zealously published
another proposal for the erection of a public library in the
Mansion-house. " There is not," observed Carte, " a great
city in Europe so ill-provided with public libraries as London."
He enters into a very interesting and minute narrative of the
public libraries of Paris.* He then also suggested the pur-
chase of ten thousand manuscripts of the Earl of Oxford,
which the nation now possess in the Harleian collection.
Though Carte failed to persuade our opulent citizens to
purchase this costly honour, it is probably to his suggestion
that the nation owes the British Museum. The ideas of the
literary man are never thrown away, however vain at the
moment, or however profitless to himself. Time preserves
without injuring the image of his mind, and a following age
often performs what the preceding failed to comprehend.
It was in 1743 that this work was projected, in 1747 the
first volume appeared. One single act of indiscretion, an un-
lucky accident rather than a premeditated design, overturned
in a moment this monument of history ; — for it proved that
our Carte, however enlarged were his views of what history
ought to consist, and however experienced in collecting its
most authentic materials, and accurate in their statement, was
infected by a superstitious jacobitism, which seemed likely to
spread itself through his extensive history. Carte indeed was
no philosopher, but a very faithful historian.
Having unhappily occasion to discuss whether the King of
England had, from the time of Edward the Confessor, the
power of healing inherent in him before his unction, or
whether the gift was conveyed by ecclesiastical hands, to
show the efficacy of the royal touch, he added an idle story,
v^rhich had come under his own observation, of a person who
appeared to have been so healed. Carte said of this unlucky
personage, so unworthil}'- introduced five hundred years before
he was born, that he had been sent to Paris to be touched by
"the eldest lineal descendant of a race of kings who had
indeed for a long succession of ages cured that distemper by
* This paper, which is a great literary curiosity, is preserved by Mr.
Nichols in his "Literary History," vol. ii.
The Indiscretion of an Historian, 113
the royal touch." The insinuation was unquestionably in
favour of the Pretender, although the name of the prince was '
not avowed, and was a sort of promulgation of the right
divine to the English throne.
The first news our author heard of his elaborate history
was the discovery of this unforeseen calamity ; the public
indignation was roused, and subscribers, public and private,
hastened to withdraw their names. The historian was left
forlorn and abandoned amid his extensive collections, and
Truth, which was about to be drawn out of her well by
this robust labourer, was no longer imagined to lie concealed
at the bottom of the waters.
Thunderstruck at this dreadful reverse to all his hopes, and
witnessing the unrequited labour of more than thirty years
withered in an hour, the unhappy Carte drew up a faint
appeal , rendered still more weak by a long and improbable
tale, that the objectionable illustration had been merely a
private note which by mistake had been printed, and only
designed to show that the person who had been healed im-
properly attributed his cure to the sanative virtue of the
regal unction ; since the prince in question had never been
anointed. But this was plunging from Scylla into Cha-
rybdis, for it inferred that the Stuarts inherited the heavenly-
gifted touch by descent. This could not avail ; yet heavy
was the calamity ! for now an historian of the utmost pro-
bity and exactness, and whose labours were never equalled
for their scope and extent, was ruined for an absurd but not
peculiar opinion, and an indiscretion which was more ludi-
crous than dishonest.
This shock of public opinion was met with a fortitude
which only strong minds experience ; Carte was the true
votary of study, — by habit, by devotion, and by pleasure, he
persevered in producing an invaluable folio every two years ;
but from three thousand copies he was reduced to seven
hundred and fifty, and the obscure patronage of the few who
knew how to appreciate them. Death only arrested the his-
torian's pen — in the fourth volume. We have lost the im-
portant period of the reign of the second Charles, of which
Carte declared that he had read " a series of memoirs from
the beginning to the end of that reign which would have
laid open all those secret intrigues which Burnet with all his
genius for conjecture does not pretend to account for."
So precious were the MS. collections Carte left behind
I
114 Calamities of Authors.
him, that the proprietor valued them at 1500Z. ; Philip Earl
of Hardwicke paid 200/. only for the perusal,, and Macpher-
son a larger sura for their use; and Hume, without Carte,
vould scarcely have any authorities. Such was the cala-
mitous result of Carte's historical labours, who has left
others of a more philosophical cast, and of a finer taste in
composition, to reap the harvest whose soil had been broken
by his hand.
LITERARY RIDICULE.
ILLUSTRATED BY SOME ACCOUNT OP A LITERARY SATIRE.
Ridicule may be considered as a species of eloquence ; it
has all its vehemence, all its exaggeration, all its power of
X' diminution ; it is irresistible ! Its business is not with
truth, but with its appearance ; and it is this similitude, in
perpetual comparison with the original, which, raising con-
tempt, produces the ridiculous.
There is nothing real in ridicule ; the more exquisite, the
more it borrows from the imagination. When directed to-
wards an individual, by preserving a unity of character in all
its parts, it produces a fictitious personage, so modelled on the
prototype, that we know not to distinguish the true one from
the false. Even with an intimate knowledge of the real
object, the ambiguous image slides into our mind, for(we are
at least as much influenced in our opinions by our imagina-
"v tion as by our judgment.*) Hence some great characters have
come down to us spotted with the taints of indehble wit ;
and a satirist of this class, sporting with distant resem-
blances and fanciful analogies, has made the fictitious accom-
pany for ever the real character. Piqued with Akenside for
some reflections against Scotland, Smollett has exhibited a
man of great genius and virtue as a most ludicrous person-
age ; and who can discriminate, in the ridiculous physician in
" Peregrine Pickle," what is real from what is fictitious ?*
* Of Akenside few particulars have been recorded, for the friend who
best knew him was of so cold a temper with regard to public opinion, that
he has not, in his account, revealed a solitary feature in the character of
the poet. Yet Akenside' s mind and manners were of a fine romantic cast,
drawn from the moulds of classical antiquity. Such was the charm of his
converse, that he even heated the cold and sluggish mind of Sir John Haw-
kins, who has, with unusual vivacity, described a day spent with him in
the country. As I have mentioned the fictitious physician in " Peregrine
Literary Ridicule, 115
The banterers and ridiculers possess this provoking advan-
tage over sturdy honesty or nervous sensibility — their amu-
sing fictions affect the world more than the plain tale that
would put them down. They excite our risible emotions,
while they are reducing their adversary to contempt — other-
wise they would not be distinguished from gross slanderers, /s
When the wit has gained over the laughers on his side, he — ( —
has struck a blow which puts his adversary hors de combat.
A grave reply can never wound ridicule, which, assuming all
forms, has really none. Witty calumny and licentious rail-
lery are airy nothings that float about us, invulnerable from
their very nature, like those chimeras of hell which the
sword of iEneas could not pierce — yet these shadows of
truth, these false images, these fictitious realities, have made
heroism tremble, turned the eloquence of wisdom into folly,
and bowed down the spirit of honour itself.
Not that the legitimate use of eidicule is denied : the
wisest men have been some of the most exquisite ridiculers ;
from Socrates to the Fathers, and from the Fathers to Eras-
mus, and from Erasmus to Butler and Swift. CRidicule is J^
more efficacious than argument ; when that keen instrument
cuts what cannot be untied.^ " The Rehearsal" wrote down
the unnatural taste for the rhyming heroic tragedies, and
brought the nation back from sound to sense, from rant to
passion. More important events may be traced in the history
of Eidicule. When a certain set of intemperate Puritans, in
the reign of Elizabeth, the ridiculous reformists of abuses in
Church and State, congregated themselves under the literary
Pickle," let the same page show the real one. I shall transcribe Sir John's
forgotten words — omitting his "neat and elegant dinner :" — *' Akenside's
conversation was of the most delightful kind, learned, instructive, and,
without any affectation of wit, cheerful and entertaining. One of the
pleasantest days of my life I passed with him, Mr. Dyson, and another
friend, at Putney — where the enlivening sunshine of a summer's day, and
the view of an unclouded sky, were the least of our gratifications. In per-
fect good-humour with himself and all about him, he seemed to feel a joy
that he lived, and poured out his gratulations to the great Dispenser of all
felicity in expressions that Plato himself might have uttered on such an
occasion. In conversations with select friends, and those whose studies
had been nearly the same with his own, it was a usual thing with him, in
libations to the memory of eminent men among the ancients, to bring their
characters into view, and expatiate on those particulars of their lives that
had rendered them famous. " Observe the arts of the ridiculer ! he seized
on the romantic enthusiasm of Akenside, and turned it to the cookery of
the ancients I
i2
116 Calamities of Authors,
nom de guerre of Martin Mar-prelate, a stream of libels ran
throughout the nation. The grave discourses of the arch-
bishop and the prelates could never silence the hardy and
concealed libellers. They employed a moveable printing-
press, and the publishers perpetually shifting their place, long
escaped detection. They declared their works were " printed
in Europe, not far from some of the bouncing priests ;" or
they were " printed over sea, in Europe, within two furlongs
of a bouncing priest, at the cost and charges of Martin Mar-
prelate, gent." It was then that Tom Nash, whom I am
about to introduce to the reader's more familiar acquaintance,
the most exquisite banterer of that age of genius, turned on
them their own weapons, and annihilated them into silence
when they found themselves paid in their own base coin.
He rebounded their popular ribaldry on themselves, with such
replies as " Pap with a hatchet, or a fig for my godson ; or,
crack me this nut. To be sold, at the sign of the Crab-tree
Cudgel, in Thwack-coat lane."* Not less biting was his
" Almond for a Parrot, or an Alms for Martin." Nash first
silenced Martin Mar-prelate, and the government afterwards
hanged him ; Nash might be vain of the greater honour. La.
ridiculer then is the best champion to meet another ridiculer ;)
their scurrilities magically undo each other.
But the abuse of ridicule is not one of the least calamities
of literature, when it withers genius, and gibbets whom it
ought to enshrine. Never let us forget that Socrates before
his judges asserted that " his persecution originated in the
licensed raillery of Aristophanes, which had so unduly influ-
enced the popular mind during several years P^ And thus a
fictitious Socrates, not the great moralist, was condemned.
Armed with the most licentious ridicule, the Aretine of our
own country and times has proved that its chief magistrate
was not protected by the shield of domestic and public
virtues ; a false and distorted image of an inteUigent monarch
could cozen the gross many, and aid the purposes of the
subtle few.
There is a plague-spot in ridicule, and the man who
* This pamphlet has been ascribed to John Lilly, but it must be con-
fessed that its native vigour strangely contrasts with the famous Euphuism
«f that refined writer. [There can, however, be little doubt that he was
6he author of this tract, as he is alluded to more than once as such by
Harvey in his " Pierce's Supererogation ;" — *' would that Lilly had alwaies
been Ewphues and never Pap-hatchet." — Ed.]
Literary Ridicule, 117
is touched with it can be sent forth as the jest of his
country.
The literary reign of Elizabeth, so fertile in every kind of
genius, exhibits a remarkable instance, in the controversy be-
tween the witty Tom Nash and the learned Gabriel Harvey.
It will illustrate the nature of the fictions of ridicule ^ expose
the materials of which its shafts are composed, and the
secret arts by which ridicule can level a character which
seems to be placed above it.
Gabriel Haevet was an author of considerable rank, but
with two learned brothers, as Wood tells us, *' had the ill
luck to fall into the hands of that noted and restless buffoon,
Tom Nash."
Harvey is not unknown to the lover of poetry, from his
connexion with Spenser, who loved and revered him. He is
the Hobynol whose poem is prefixed to the " Faery Queen,"
who introduced Spenser to Sir Philip Sidney : and, besides
his intimacy with the literary characters of his times, he was
a Doctor of Laws, an erudite scholar, and distinguished as a
poet. Such a man could hardly be contemptible ; and yet,
when some little peculiarities become aggravated, and his
works are touched by the caustic of the mos^; adroit banterer
of that age of wit, no character has descended to us with such
grotesque deformity, exhibited in so ludicrous an attitude.
Harvey was a pedant, but pedantry was part of the eru-
dition of an age when our national literature was passing from
its infancy ; he introduced hexameter verses into our language,
and pompously laid claim to an invention which, designed for
the reformation of English verse, was practised till it was
found sufficiently ridiculous. His style was infected with his
pedantic taste ; and the hard outline of his satirical humour
betrays the scholastic cynic, not the airy and fluent wit. He
had, perhaps, the foibles of a man who was clearing himself
from obscurity ; he prided himself on his family alliances,
while he fastidiously looked askance on the trade of his father
— a rope-manufacturer.
He was somewhat rich in his apparel, according to the rank
in society he held ; and, hungering after the notice of his
friends, they fed him on soft sonnet and rehshing dedication,
till Harvey ventured to pubhsh a collection of panegyrics on
himself — and thus gravely stepped into a niche erected to
Vanity. At length he and his two brothers — one a divine
and the other a physician — became students of astronomy ;
118 Calamities of Authors.
then an astronomer usually ended in an almanac-maker, and
above all, in an astrologer — an avocation which tempted a
man to become a prophet. Their " sharp and learned judg-
ment on earthquakes" drove the people out of their senses
(says Wood) ; but when nothing happened of their predic-
tions, the brothers received a severe castigation from those
great enemies of prophets, the wits. The buffoon, Tarleton,
celebrated for his extempore humour, jested on them at
the theatre ;* Elderton, a drunken ballad-maker, " consumed
his ale-crammed nose to nothing in bear-bating them with
bundles of ballads." f One on the earthquake commenced
with "Quake! quake! quake!" They made the people
laugh at their false terrors, or, as Nash humorously describes
their fanciful panic, " when they sweated and were not a
haire the worse." Thus were the three learned brothers
beset by all the town-wits ; Gabriel had the hardihood, with
all undue gravity, to charge pell-mell among the whole
knighthood of drollery ; a circumstance probably alluded to
by Spenser, in a sonnet addressed to Harvey —
Harvey, the happy above happier men,
I read ; that sitting like a looker-on
Of this worlde's stage, dost note with cntique pen
The sharp dislikes of each condition ;
And, as one carelesse of suspition,
Ne fawnest for the favour of the great ;
Ne fearest foolish reprehension
Of faulty men, which daunger to thee threat^
But freely doest of what thee list, entreat,
Like a great lord of peerlesse liberty. — "
The " foolish reprehension of faulty men, threatening Har-
vey with danger," describes that gregarious herd of town-
wits in the age of Elizabeth — Kit Marlow, Robert Greene,
Dekker, Nash, &c. — men of no moral principle, of high
passions, and the most pregnant Lucianic wits who ever
* Tarleton appears to have had considerable power of extemporising
satirical ihymes on the fleeting events of his own day. A collection of his
Jesta was published in 1611 ; the following is a favourable specimen : —
** There was a nobleman asked Tarleton what he thought of soldiers in time
of peace. Marry, quoth he, they are like chimneys in summer." — Ed.
f A long list of Elderton' s popular rhymes is given by Ritson in his
" Bibliographia Poetica." One of them, on the " King of Scots and Andrew-
Browne," is published in Percy's "Eeliques," who speaks of him as "a
facetious fuddling companion, whose tippling and whose rhymes rendered
him famous among his contemporaries." Ritson is more condensed and less
civil in his analysis ; he simply describes him as ''a ballad-maker by pro-
fession, and drunkard by habit."— Ed.
Literary Ridicule. 119
flourished at one period.* Unfortunately for the learned
Harvey, his " critique pen," which is strange in so polished
a mind and so curious a student, indulged a sharpness of
invective which would have been peculiar to himself, had his
adversary, Nash, not quite outdone him. Their pamphlets
foamed against each other, till Nash, in his vehement invec-
tive, involved the whole generation of the Harveys, made one
brother more ridiculous than the other, and even attainted
the fair name of Gabriel's respectable sister. Grabriel, indeed,
after the death of Kobert Greene, the crony of Nash, sitting
like a vampyre on his grave, sucked blood from his corpse, in
a memorable narrative of the debaucheries and miseries of
this town-wit. I throw into the note the most awful satirical
address I ever read.f It became necessary to dry up the
* Harvey, in the titlepage of his " Pierce's Supererogation," has placed
an emblematic woodcut, expressive of his own confidence, and his contempt
of the wits. It is a lofty palm-tree, with its durable and impenetrable
trunk ; at its feet lie a heap of serpents, darting their tongues, and filthy
toads, in vain attempting to pierce or to pollute it. The Italian motto,
wreathed among the branches of the palm, declares, II vostro malignare
non giova nulla : Your malignity avails nothing.
+ Among those Sonnets, in Harvey's "Foure Letters, and certaine Son-
nets, especially touching Robert Greene and other parties by him abused,
1592," there is one, which, with great originality of conception, has an
equal vigour of style, and causticity of satire, on Robert Greene's death.
John Harvey the physician, who was then dead, is thus made to address
the town-wit, and the libeller of himself and his family. If Gabriel was
the writer of this singular Sonnet, as he undoubtedly is of the verses to
Spenser, subscribed Hobynol, it must be confessed he is a Poet, which he
never appears in his English hexameters : —
John Harvey the Physician's Welcome to Robert Greene !
* * Come, fellow Greene, come to thy gaping grave,
Bid vanity and foolery farewell.
That ouerlong hast plaid the mad-brained knaue,
And ouerloud hast rung the bawdy bell.
Vermine to vermine must repair at last ;
No fitter house for busie folks to dwell ;
Thy conny-catching pageants are past +,
Some other must those arrant stories tell ;
These hungry wormes thinke long for their repast ;
Come on ; I pardon thy offence to me ;
It was thy living ; be not so aghast !
A fool and a physitian may agree !
And for my brothers never vex thyself ;
They are not to disease a buried elfe."
t Greene had written "The Art of Coney-catching." He was a great
adept in the arts of a town-life.
120 Calamities of Authors.
floodgates of these rival ink-horns, by an order of the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury. The order is a remarkable fragment
of our literary history, and is thus expressed : — " That all
Nashe's bookes and Dr. Harvey's bookes be taken whereso-
ever they may be found, and that none of the said bookes be
ever printed hereafter."
This extraordinary circumstance accounts for the excessive
rarity of Harvey's " Foure Letters, 1592," and that Hterary
scourge of Nash's, " Have with you to Saffron -Walden (Har-
vey's residence), or Gabriel Harvey's Hunt is vp, 1596;"
pamphlets now as costly as if they consisted of leaves of
gold.*
Nash, who, in his other works, writes in a style as flowing
as Addison's, with hardly an obsolete vestige, has rather
injured this literary invective by the evident burlesque he
affects of Harvey's pedantic idiom ; and for this Mr. Malone
has hastily censured him, without recollecting the aim of
this modern Lucian.f The delicacy of irony ; the sou8'
entendu, that subtlety of indicating what is not told; all
that poignant satire, which is the keener for its polish, were
* Sir Egerton Brydges in his reprint of "Greene's Groatsworth of Wit,"
has given the only passage from '* The Quip for an Upstart Courtier,"
which at all alludes to Harvey's father. He says with great justice, "there
seems nothing in it sufficiently offensive to account for the violence of
Harvey's anger." The Rev. A. Dyce, so well known from his varied re-
searches in our dramatic literature, is of opinion that the offensive passage
has been removed from the editions which have come down to us. Without
some such key it is impossible to comprehend Harvey's implacable hatred,
or the words of himself and friends when they describe Greene as an " im-
pudent railer in an odious and desperate mood," or his satire as " spiteful
and villanous abuse." The occasion of the quarrel was an attack by
Richard Harvey, who had the folly to " mis- term all our poets and writers
about London, piperly make-plays and make-bates,^'' as Nash informs us ;
" hence Greene being chief agent to the company, for he wi-it more than
four other, took occasion to canvass him a little, — about some seven or
eight lines, which hath plucked on an invective of so many leaves." — Ed.
f Nash was a great favourite with the wits of his day. One calls him
"our true English Aretine," another, "Sweet satyric Nash," a third
describes his Muse as "armed with a gag-tooth (a tusk), and his pen pos-
sessed with Hercules's furies." He is well characterised in " The Return
from Parnassus."
"His style was witty, tho' he had some gall ;
Something he might have mended, so may aJl ;
Yet this I say, that for a mother's wit,
Few men have ever seen the like of it."
Nash abounds with " Mother- wit ;" but he was also educated at the
University, with every advantage of classical studies.
Literary Ridicule, 121
not practised by our first vehement satirists ; but a banter-
ing masculine humour, a style stamped in the heat of fancy,
with all the life-touches of strong individuality, characterise
these licentious wits. They wrote then as the old fabliers
told their tales, naming everything by its name ; our refine-
ment cannot approve, but it cannot diminish their real nature,
and among our elaborate graces, their 7iaivete must be still
wanting.
In this literary satire Nash has interwoven a kind of
ludicrous biography of Harvey ; and seems to have antici-
pated the character of Martinus Scriblerus. I leave the
grosser parts of this invective untouched ; for my business
is not with slander, but with ridicule.
Nash opens as a skilful lampooner ; he knew well that
ridicule, without the appearance of truth, was letting fly an
arrow upwards, touching no one. Nash accounts for his
protracted silence by adroitly declaring that he had taken
these two or three years to get perfect intelligence of Har-
vey's " Life and conversation ; one true point whereof well
sat downe will more excruciate him than knocking him about
the ears with his own style in a hundred sheets of paper."
And with great humour says —
" As long as it is since he writ against me, so long have I
given him a lease of his life, and he hath only held it by my
mercy ; and now let him thank his friends for this heavy load
of disgrace I lay upon him, since I do it but to show my
sufficiency; and they urging what a triumph he had over
me, hath made me ransack my standish more than I
would."
In the history of such a literary hero as Gabriel, the birth
has ever been attended by portents. Gabriel's mother
" dreamt a dream," that she was delivered " of an immense
elder gun that can shoot nothing but pellets of chewed
paper ; and thought, instead of a boy, she was brought to
bed of one of those kistrell birds called a wind-sucker." At
the moment of his birth came into the world " a calf with a
double tongue, and eares longer than any ass's, with his feet
turned backwards." Facetious analogies of Gabriel's literary
genius !
He then paints to the life the grotesque portrait of Har-
vey ; so that the man himself stands alive before us. " He
was of an adust swarth choleric dye, like restie bacon, or a
dried scate-fish \ his skin riddled and crumpled like a piece
132 Calamities of Authors,
of burnt parchment, with channels and creases in his face,
and wrinkles and frets of old age." Nash dexterously attri-
butes this premature old age to his own talents; exulting
humorously —
" I have brought him low, and shrewdly broken him ; look
on his head, and you shall find a gray haire for euerie line I
have writ against him ; and you shall haue all his beard white
too by the time he hath read ouer this booke."
To give a finishing to the portrait, and to reach the climax
of personal contempt, he paints the sordid misery in which
he lived at Saffron- Walden : — " Endm*ing more hardness than
a camell, who will Hue four dayes without water, and feedes
on nothing but thistles and wormwood, as he feeds on his
estate on trotters, sheep porknells, and buttered rootes, in an
hexameter meditation."
In his Venetian velvet and pantofles of pride, we are told —
" He looks, indeed, like a case of tooth-pickes, or a lute-pin
stuck in a suit of apparell. An Vsher of a dancing-schoole,
he is such a hasia de vmbra de vmhra de los pedes ; a kisser of
the shadow of your feetes shadow he is !"
This is, doubtless, a portrait resembling the original, with
its Cervantic touches ; Nash would not have risked what the
eyes of his readers would instantly have proved to be fic-
titious ; and, in fact, though the Grangerites know of no
portrait of Gabriel Harvey, they will find a woodcut of him
by the side of this description ; it is, indeed, in a most piti-
able attitude, expressing that gripe of criticism which seized
on Gabriel "upon the news of the going in hand of my
booke."
The ponderosity and prolixity of Gabriel's "period of a
mile," are described with a facetious extravagance, which
may be given as a specimen of the eloquence of ridicule.
Harvey entitled his various pamphlets " Letters."
" More letters yet from the doctor ? Out upon it, here's a
packet of epistling, as bigge as a packe of woollen cloth, or a
stack of salt fish. Carrier, didst thou bring it by wtiyne, or
by horsebacke ? By wayne, sir, and it hath crackt me three
axle-trees. — Heavie newes ! Take them again ! I will never
open them. — My cart (quoth he, deep-sighing,) hath cryde
creake under them fortie times euerie furlong ; wherefore if
you be a good man rather make mud-walls with them, mend
highways, or damme up quagmires with them.
Literary Ridicule. 123
" When I came to unrip and unbumbast* this Gargantuan
bag pudding, and found nothing in it but dogs tripes, swines
livers, oxe galls, and sheepes guts, I was in a bitterer chafe
than anie cooke at a long sermon, when his meat burnes.
*' 'tis an vnsconscionable vast gor-bellied volume, bigger
bulkt than a Butch hoy, and more cumbersome than a payre
of Switzer's galeaze breeches. "f
And in the same ludicrous style he writes —
" One epistle thereof to John Wolfe (Harvey's printer) I
took and weighed in an ironmonger's scale, and it counter
poyseth a cadej of herrings with three Holland cheeses. It
was rumoured about the Court that the guard meant to trie
masteries with it before the Queene, and instead of throwing
the sledge, or the hammer, to hurle it foorth at the armes end
for a wager.
" Sixe and thirtie sheets it comprehendeth, which with him
is but sixe and thirtie full points (periods) ; for he makes no
more difference 'twixt a sheet of paper and a full pointe, than
there is 'twixt two black puddings for a pennie, and a pennie
for a pair of black puddings. Yet these are but the shortest
prouerbes of his wit, for he never bids a man good morrow,
but he makes a speech as long as a proclamation, nor drinkes
to anie, but he reads a lecture of three bowers long, de Arte
hibendi. 'tis a precious apothegmatical pedant."
It was the foible of Harvey to wish to conceal the humble
avocation of his father : this forms a perpetual source of the
bitterness or the pleasantry of Nash, who, indeed, calls his
pamphlet "a full answer to the eldest son of the halter
maker," which, he says, "is death to Gabriel to remember;
wherefore from time to time he doth nothing but turmoile
his thoughts how to invent new pedigrees, and what great
nobleman's bastard he was likely to be, not whose sonne he
is reputed to be. Yet he would not have a shoo to put on
* Bombast was the tailors' term in the Elizabethan era for the stufl5ng
of horsehair or wool used for the large breeches then in fashion ; hence the
term was applied to high-sounding phrases — "all sound and fury, signify-
ing nothing." — Ed.
+ These were the loose heavy breeches so constantly worn by Swiss
soldiers as to become a national costume, and which has been handed down
to us by the artists of the day in a variety of forms. They obtained the
name of galeaze, from their supposed resemblance to the broad-bottomed
ship called a galliass. — Ed.
X A cade is 500 herrings ; a great quantity of an article of no value.
124 Calamities of Authors.
his foote if his father had not traffiqued with the hangman. —
Harvey nor his brothers cannot bear to be called the sonnes
of a rope-maker, which, by his private confession to some of
my friends, was the only thing that most set him afire
against me, Turne over his two bookes he hath published
against me, wherein he hath clapt paper God's plentie, if
that could press a man to death, and see if, in the waye of
answer, or otherwise, he once mentioned the word rope-
maker, or come within forty foot of it j except in one place
of his first booke, where he nameth it not neither, but goes
thus cleanly to worke : — ' and may not a good sonne have a
reprobate for his father ?' a periphrase of a rope-maker,
which, if I should shryue myself, I never heard before."
According to Nash, Gabriel took his oath before a justice,
that his father was an honest man, and kept his sons at the
Universities a long time. " I confirmed it, and added, Ay !
which is more, three proud sonnes, that when they met the
hangman, their father's best customer, would not put off
their hats to him — "
Such repeated raillery on this foible of Harvey touched him
more to the quick, and more raised the public laugh, than any
other point of attack ; for it was merited. Another foible
was, perhaps, the finical richness of Harvey's dress, adopting
the Italian fashions on his return from Italy, " when he
made no bones of taking the wall of Sir Philip Sidney, in his
black Venetian velvet."* On this the fertile invention of
Nash raises a scandalous anecdote concerning Gabriel's ward-
robe ; " a tale of his hobby-horse reuelling and domineering
at Audley-end, when the Queen was there ; to which place
Gabriel came rufiling it out, hufty tufty, in his suit of
veluet — " which he had " untrussed, and pelted the outside
from the lining of an old velvet saddle he had borrowed !"
" The rotten mould of that worm-eaten relique, he means,
* Harvey's love of dress, and desire to indulge it cheaply, is satirically
alluded to by Nash, in confuting Harvey's assertion that Greene's wardrobe
at his death was not worth more than three shillings — " I know a broker
in a spruce leather jerkin shall give you thirty shillings for the doublet
alone, if you can help him to it. Hark in your ear ! he had a very fair
cloak, with sleeves of a goose green, it would serve you as fine as may be.
No more words ; if you be wise, play the good husband, and listen after it,
you may buy it ten shillings better cheap than it cost him. By St. Silver,
it is good to be circumspect in casting for the world ; there's a great many
ropes go to ten shillings ? If you want a greasy pair of silk stockings to
shew yourself in the court, they are there to be had too, amongst his
moveables." — Ed.
Literary Ridicule, 125
when he dies, to hang over his tomb for a monument."*
Harvey was proud of his refined skill in " Tuscan authors,"
and too fond of their worse conceits. Nash alludes to his
travels in Italy, " to fetch him twopenny worth of Tuscan-
ism, quite renouncing his natural English accents and ges-
tures, wrested himself wholly to the Italian punctilios,
painting himself like a courtezan, till the Queen declared,
' he looked something like an Italian !' At which he roused
his plumes, pricked his ears, and run away with the bridle
betwixt his teeth." These were mahcious tales, to make his
adversary contemptible, whenever the merry wits at court
were willing to sharpen themselves on him.
One of the most difficult points of attack was to break
through that bastion of sonnets and panegyrics with which
Harvey had fortified himself by the aid of his friends,
against the assaults of Nash. Harvey had been commended
by the learned and the ingenious. Our Lucian, with his
usual adroitness, since he could not deny Harvey's intimacy
with Spenser and Sidney, gets rid of their suffrages by this
malicious sarcasm : " It is a miserable thing for a man to be
said to have had friends, and now to have neer a one left I"
As for the others, whom Harvey calls " his gentle and libe-
rall friends," Nash boldly caricatures the grotesque crew, as
" tender itchie brained infants, that cared not what they did,
so they might come in print ; worthless whippets, and jack-
straws, who meeter it in his commendation, whom he would
compare with the highest." The works of these young
writers he describes by an image exquisitely ludicrous and
satirical : —
" These mushrumpes, who pester the world with their
pamphlets, are like those barbarous people in the hot coun-
tries, who, when they have bread to make, doe no more than
clap the dowe upon a post on the outside of their houses,
and there leave it to the sun to bake ; so their indigested
conceipts, far rawer than anie dowe, at all adventures upon
the post they clap, pluck them off who will, and think they
have made as good a batch of poetrie as may be."
Of Harvey's list of friends he observes : —
* This unlucky Venetian velvet coat of Harvey had also produced a
"Quippe for an Vpstart Courtier, or a quaint dispute between Veluet-
breeches and Cloth-breeches," which poor Harvey declares was **oneof
Vie most licentious and intolerable invectives." This blow had been struck
4r Greene on the " Italianated" Courtier,
126 Calamities of Authors.
" To a bead-roll of learned men and lords, he appeals,
whether he be an asse or no ?"
Harvey had said, " Thomas Nash, from the top of his wit
■looking down upon simple creatures, calleth Gabriel Harvey
a dunce, a foole, an ideot, a dolt, a goose cap, an asse, and so
forth ; for some of the residue is not to be spoken but with
his owne mannerly mouth ; but he should have shewed par-
ticularlie which wordes in my letters were the wordes of a
dunce ; which sentences the sentences of a foole ; which
arguments the arguments of an ideot ; which opinions the
opinions of a dolt ; which judgments the judgments of a
goose-cap ; which conclusions the conclusions of an asse."*
Thus Harvey reasons, till he becomes unreasonable ; one
would have imagined that the literary satires of our English
Lucian had been voluminous enough, without the mathe-
matical demonstration. The banterers seem to have put poor
Harvey nearly out of his wits ; he and his friends felt their
blows too profoundly ; they were much too thin-skinned, and
the solemn air of Harvey in his graver moments at their
menaces is extremely ludicrous. They frequently called him
Gahrielissime Gabriel, which quintessence of himself seems
to have mightily affected him. They threatened to confute
his letters till eternity — which seems to have put him in de-
spair. The following passage, descriptive of Gabriel's dis-
tresses, may excite a smile.
" This grand confuter of my letters says, ' Gabriel, if there
be any wit or Industrie in thee, now I will dare it to the
vttermost ; write of what thou wilt, in what language thou
wilt, and I will confute it, and answere it. Take Truth's
part, and I will proouve truth to be no truth, marching ovt
of thy dung-voiding mouth.' He will never leave me as
long as he is able to lift a pen, ad infinitum ; if I reply, he
has a rejoinder ; and for my brief triplication, he is prouided
with a quadruplication, and so he mangles my sentences,
hacks my arguments, wrenches my words, chops and changes
my phrases, even to the disjoyning and dislocation of my
whole meaning."
Poor Harvey ! he knew not that there was nothing real in
ridicule, no end to its merry malice !
Harvey's taste for hexameter verses, which he so unna-
turally forced into our language, is admirably ridiculed.
* ** Pierce's Supererogation, or a new praise of the Old Asse," 1593.
Literary Ridicule, 127
Harvey had shown his taste for these metres hy a variety of
poems, to whose subjects Nash thus sarcastically alludes : —
" It had grown with him into such a dictionary custom,
that no may-pole in the street, no wethercocke on anie
church-steeple, no arbour, no lawrell, no yewe-tree, he would
ouerskip, without hayling in this manner. After supper, if
he chancst to play at cards with a queen of harts in his
hands, he would run upon men's and women's hearts all the
night."
And he happily introduces here one of the miserable hexa-
meter conceits of Harvey —
Stout hart and sweet hart, yet stoutest hart to be stooped.
Harvey's " Encomium Lauri" thus ridiculously commences,
What might I call this tree ? A lawrell ? bonny lawrell,
Needes to thy bowes will I bow this knee, and vayle my bonetto ;
which Nash most happily burlesques by describing Harvey
under a yew-tree at Trinity-hall, composing verses on the
weathercock of AUhallows in Cambridge : —
thou wether-cocke that stands on the top of AUhallows,
Come thy wales down, if thou darst, for thy crowne, and take the
wall on us.
" The hexameter verse (says Nash) I graunt to be a gentle-
man of an auncient house (so is many an EngKsh beggar),
yet this clyme of our's hee cannot thrive in ; our speech is
too craggy for him to set his plough in ; hee goes twitching
and hopping in our language, like a man running vpon quag-
mires, vp the hill in one syllalDle and down the dale in another,
retaining no part of that stately smooth gate which he vaunts
himself with amongst the Greeks and Latins."
The most humorous part in this Scribleriad, is a ludicrous
narrative of Harvey's expedition to the metropolis, for the sole
purpose of writing his " Pierce Supererogation," pitted
against Nash's " Pierce's Pennilesse." The facetious Nash
describes the torpor and pertinacity of his genius, by telling
us he had kept Harvey at work —
" For seaven and thirtie weekes space while he lay at his
printer's, Wolfe, never stirring out of doors, or being churched
all that while — and that in the deadest season that might bee,
hee lying in the ragingest furie of the last plague where there
dyde above 1600 a weeke in London, ink-squittring and
fsaracenically printing against mee. Three quarters of a year
128 Calamities of Authors,
thus immured hee remained, with his spirits yearning empas-
sionment, and agonised fury, tliirst of revenge, neglecting soul
and bodies health to compasse it — sweating and dealing upon
it most intentively."*
The narrative proceeds with the many perils which Harvey's
printer encountered, by expense of diet, and printing for this
bright genius and his friends, whose works " would rust and
iron-spot paper to have their names breathed over it ;" and
that Wolfe designed " to get a privilege betimes, forbidding of
all others to sell waste-paper but himselfe." The climax of
the narrative, after many misfortunes, ends with Harvey being
arrested by the printer, and confined to Newgate, where his
sword is taken from him, to his perpetual disgrace. So
much did Gabriel endure for having written a book against
Tom Nash !
But Harvey might deny some of these ludicrous facts. —
Will he deny ? cries Nash — and here he has woven every tale
the most watchful malice could collect, varnished for their
full effect. Then he adds,
" You see I have brought the doctor out of request at court ;
and it shall cost me a fall, but I will get him howted out of
the Vniuersitie too, ere I giue him ouer." He tells us Harvey
was brought on the stage at Trinity-college, in " the exquisite
comedie of Pedantius," where, under" the finical fine school-
master, the just manner of his phrase, they stufft his mouth
with ; and the whole buffianisme throughout his bookes, they
bolstered out his part with — euen to the carrying of his gowne,
his nice gate in his pantofles, or the affected accent of his
speech — Let him deny that there was a shewe made at Clare-
hall of him and his brothers, called Tarrarantantara turba
tumultuosa Trigonum Tri-Harveyorum Tri-harmonia ; and
another shewe of the little minnow his brother, at Peter-house,
called Duns furens, Dick Harvej'' in a frensie." The sequel is
thus told : — " Whereupon Dick came and broke the college
glass windows, and Dr. Perne caused him to be set in the stockes
till the shewe was ended."
This " Duns furens, Dick Harvey in a frensie," was not
* Harvey's opponents were mucli nimbler penmen, and could strike off
these lampoons with all the facility of writers for the stage. Thus Nash
declares, in his " Have with you to Saffron Walden," that he leaves Lilly,
who was also attacked, to defend himself, because "in as much time as he
spends in taking tobacco one week, he can compile that would make
Gabriell repent himself all his life after." — Ed.
Literary Ridicule. 129
only the brother of one who ranked high in society and htera-
ture, but himself a learned professor. Nash brings him down
to " Pigmey Dick, that lookes like a pound of goldsmith's
candles, who had like to commit folly last year with a milk-
maid, as a friend of his very soberly informed me. Little and
little-wittied Dick, that hath vowed to live and die in defence
of Brutus and his Trojans."* An Herculean feat of this
" Duns furens," Nash tells us, was his setting Aristotle with
his heels upwards on the school-gates at Cambridge, and put-
ting ass's ears on his head, which Tom here records in perpe-
tuam rei memoriam. But Wood, our grave and keen literary
antiquary, observes —
" To let pass other matters these vain men (the wits) report
of Richard Harvey, his works show him quite another person
than what they make him to be."
Nash then forms a ludicrous contrast between *' witless
Gabriel and ruffling Richard." The astronomer Richard was
continually baiting the great bear in the firmament, and in his
lectures set up atheistical questions, which Nash maliciously
adds, " as I am afraid the earth would swallow me if I should
but rehearse." And at his close, Nash bitterly regrets he has
no more room ; " else I should make Gabriel a fugitive out of
England, being the rauenousest slouen that ever lapt porridge
in noblemen's houses, where he has had already, out of two,
his mittimus of Ye may be gone ! for he was a sower of sedi-
tious paradoxes amongst kitchen-boys." Nash seems to have
considered himself as terrible as an Archilochus, whose satires
were so fatal as to induce the satirised, after having read them,
to hang themselves.
How ill poor Harvey passed through these wit-duels, and
how profoundly the wounds inflicted on him and his brothers
were felt, appears by his own confessions. In his " Foure
Letters," after some curious observations on invectives and
satires, from those of Archilochus, Lucian, and Aretine, to
Skelton and Scoggin, and " the whole venomous and viperous
brood of old and new raylers," he proceeds to blame even his
beloved friend the gentle Spenser, for the severity of his
" Mother Hubbard's Tale," a satire on the court. " I must
needes say. Mother Hubbard in heat of choUer, forgetting the
* He had -written an antiquarian work on the descent of Brutus on our
island. — The party also who at the University attacked the opinions of
Aristotle were nicknamed the Trojans^ as determined enemies of the
K
130 Calamities of Authors.
pure sanguine of her Sweete Feary Queene, artfully ouershoti?
her malcontent-selfe ; as elsewhere 1 have specified at large,
with the good leaue of vnspotted friendship. — Sallust and
Clodius learned of Tully to frame artificiall declamations and
patheticall invectives against Tully himselfe ; if Mother Hub-
bard, in the vaine of Chawcer, happen to tel one canicular tale,
father Elderton and his son Greene, in the vaine of Skelton
or Scoggin, will counterfeit an hundred dogged fables, libles,
slaunders, lies, for the whetstone. But many will sooner lose
their lines than the least jott of their reputation. What mortal
feudes, what cruel bloodshed, what terrible slaughterdome
have been committed for the point of honour and some few
courtly ceremonies."
The incidents so plentifully narrated in this Lucianic bio-
graphy, the very nature of this species of satire throws into
doubt ; yet they still seem shadowed out fi om some truths ;
but the truths who can unravel from the fictions ? And thus
a narrative is consigned to posterity which involves illustrious
characters in an inextricable network of calumny and genius.
Writers of this class alienate themselves from human kind,
they break the golden bond which holds them to society ; and
they live among us like a polished banditti. In these copious
extracts, I have not noticed the more criminal insinuations
against the Harveys ; I have left the grosser slanders un-
touched. My object has been only to trace the effects of
ridicule, and to detect its artifices, by which the most digni-
fied characters may be deeply injured at the pleasure of a
Ridiculer. The wild mirth of ridicule, aggravating and
taunting real imperfections, and fastening imaginary ones on
the victim in idle sport or ill-humour, strikes at the most
brittle thing in the world, a man's good reputation, for delicate
matters which are not under the protection of the law, but in
which so much of personal happiness is concerned.
LITERARY HATRED.
EXHIBITING A CONSPIRACY AGAINST AN AUTHOR.
Tn the peaceful walks of literature we are startled at discover-
ing genius with the mind, and, if we conceive the instrument
it guides to be a stiletto, with the hand of an assassin — iras-
cible, vindictive, armed with indiscriminate satire, never
Literary Hatred, 131
pardoning the merit of rival genius, but fastening on it
throughout hfe, till, in the moral retribution of human nature,
these very passions, by their ungratified cravings, have tended
to annihilate the being who fostered them. These passions
among literary men are with none more inextinguishable than
among provincial writers. — Their bad feelings are concen-
trated by their local contraction. The proximity of men of
genius seems to produce a familiarity which excites hatred or
contempt ; while he who is afflicted with disordered passions
imagines that he is urging his own claims to genius by deny-
ing them to their possessor. A whole life passed in harassing
the industry or the genius which he has not equalled ; and
instead of running the open career as a competitor, only
skulking as an assassin by their side, is presented in the object
now before us.
Dr. GiLBEET Stuaet seems early in life to have devoted
himself to literature ; but his habits were irregular, and his
passions fierce. The celebrity of Eobertson, Blair, and Henry,
with other Scottish brothers, diseased his mind with a most
envious rancour. He confined all his literary efforts to the
pitiable motive of destroying theirs ; he was prompted to
every one of his historical works by the mere desire of discre-
diting some work of Robertson ; and his numerous critical
labours were all directed to annihilate the genius of his coun-
try. How he converted his life into its own scourge, how
wasted talents he might have cultivated into perfection, lost
every trace of humanity, and finally perished, devoured by his
own fiend-like passions, — shall be illustrated by the fol-
lowing narrative, collected from a correspondence now lying
before me, which the author carried on with his pubHsher
in London. I shall copy out at some length the hopes and
disappointments of the literary adventurer — the colours are
not mine ; I am dipping my pencil in the palette of the artist
himself.
In June, 1773, was projected in the Scottish capital " The
Edinburgh Magazine and Review." Stuart's letters breathe
the spirit of rapturous confidence. He had combined the
sedulous attention of the intelligent Smellie, who was to be
the printer, with some very honourable critics; Professor
Baron, Dr. Blacklock, and Professor Richardson ; and the first
numbers were executed with more talent than periodical pub-
lications had then exhibited. But the hardiness of Stuart's
opinions, his personal attacks, and the acrimony of his literary
£2
132 Calamities of Authors,
libels, presented a new feature in Scottish literature, of sucK
ugliness and horror, that every honourable man soon averted
his face from this loutefeu.
He designed to ornament his first number with —
" A print of my Lord Monboddo in his quadruped form. I
must, therefore, most earnestly beg that you will purchase for
me a copy of it in some of the Macaroni print shops. It is
not to be procured at Edinburgh. They are afraid to vend it
here. We are to take it on the footing of a figure of an ani-
mal, not yet described ; and are to give a grave, yet satirical
account of it, in the manner of Buffon. It would not be proper
to allude to his lordship but in a very distant manner."
It was not, however, ventured on ; and the nondescript
animal was still confined to the windows of " the Macaroni
print shops." It was, however, the bloom of the author's
fancy, and promised all the mellow fruits it afterwards pro-
duced.
In September this ardour did not abate : —
" The proposals are issued ; the subscriptions in the book-
Sellers' shops astonish ; correspondents flock in ; and, what
will surprise you, the timid proprietors of the ' Scots' Maga-
zine' have come to the resolution of dropping their work.
You stare at all this, and so do I too."
Thus he flatters himself he is to annihilate his rival, with-
out even striking the first blow. The appearance of his first
number is to be the moment when their last is to come forth.
Authors, like the discoverers of mines, are the most sanguine
creatures in the world : Gilbert Stuart afterwards flattered
himself Dr. Henry was lying at the point of death from the
scalping of his tomahawk pen ; but of this anon.
On the publication of the first number, in November,
1773, all is exultation ; and an account is facetiously expected
that " a thousand copies had emigrated from the Eow and
Eleet-street."
There is a serious composure in the letter of December,
which seems to be occasioned by the tempered answer of his
London correspondent. The work was more suited to the
meridian of Edinburgh ; and from causes sufiiciently obvious,
its personality and causticity. Stuart, however, assures his
friend that " the second number you will find better than the
first, and the third better than the second."
The next letter is dated March 4, 1774, in which I find our
author still in good spirits : —
Literary Hatred. 133
" The Magazine rises, and promises much, in this quarter.
Our artillery has silenced all opposition. The rogues of the
* uplifted hands ' dechne the combat." These rogues are the
clergy, and some others, who had " uplifted hands " from the
vituperative nature of their adversary ; for he tells us that,
" now the clergy are silent, the town-council have had the
presumption to oppose us ; and have threatened Creech (the
publisher in Edinburgh) with the terror of making him a
constable for his insolence. A pamphlet on the abuses of
Heriot's Hospital, including a direct proof of perjury in the
provost, was the punishment inflicted in return. And new
papers are forging to chastise them, in regard to the poors'
rate, which is again started ; the improper choice of professors ;
and violent stretches of the impost. The liberty of the press ^
in its fullest extent, is to be employed against them."
Such is the language of reform, and the spirit of a refor-
mist ! A little private malignity thus ferments a good deal of
public spirit ; but patriotism must be independent to be pure.
If the " Edinburgh Eeview " continues to succeed in its sale,
as Stuart fancies, Edinburgh itself may be in some danger.
His perfect contempt of his contemporaries is amusing : —
" Monboddo's second volume is published, and, with Kaimes,
will appear in our next; the former is a childish perfor-
mance ; the latter rather better. We are to treat them with
a good deal of freedom. I observe an amazing falling off in
the English Reviews. We beat them hollow. I fancy they
have no assistance but from the Dissenters, — a dull body of
men. The Monthly will not easily recover the death of
Hawkesworth ; and I suspect that Langhorne has forsaken
them ; for I see no longer his pen."
We are now hastening to the sudden and the moral cata-
strophe of our tale. The thousand copies which had emi-
grated to London remained there, little disturbed by public
inquiry ; and in Scotland, the personal animosity against
almost every literary character there, which had inflamed the
sale, became naturally the latent cause of its extinction ; for
its life was but a feverish existence, and its florid complexion
carried with it the seeds of its dissolution. Stuart at length
quarrelled with his coadjutor, Smellie, for altering his reviews.
SmelHe's prudential dexterity was such, that, in an article
designed to level Lord Kaimes with Lord Monboddo, the
whole libel was completely metamorphosed into a panegyric.
They were involved in a lawsuit about " a blasphemous
134 Calamities of Authors,
paper." And now the enraged Zoilus complains of " his
hours of peevishness and dissatisfaction." He acknowledges
that " a circumstance had happened which had broke his
peace and ease altogether for some weeks." And now he
resolves that this great work shall quietly sink into a mere
compilation from the London periodical works. Such, then,
is the progress of malignant genius ! The author, like him
who invented the brazen bull of Phalaris, is writhing in that
machine of tortures he had contrived for others.
We now come to a very remarkable passage : it is the
frenzied language of disappointed wickedness.
''11 June, 1774.
" It is an infinite disappointment to me that the Magazine
does not grow in London ; I thought the soil had been richer.
But it is my constant fate to be disappointed in everything I
attempt ; I do not think I ever had a wish that was gratified ;
and never dreaded an event that did not come. With this
felicity of fate, I wonder how the devil I could turn projector.
I am now sorry that I left London ; and the moment that I
have money enough to carry me back to it, I shall set off.
I mortally detest and alhor this place, and everylody in it.
Never was there a city where there was so much pretension
to knowledge, and that had so little of it. The solemn fop-
pery, and the gross stupidity of the Scottish literati, are per-
fectly insupportable. I shall drop my idea of a Scots news-
paper. Nothing will do in this country that has common
sense in it ; only cant, hypocrisy, and superstition will flourish
here. A curse on the country, and all the men, women, and
children ofitP^
Again. — " The publication is too good for the country.
There are very few men of taste or erudition on this side of
the Tweed. Yet every idiot one meets with lays claim to
both. Yet the success of the Magazine is in reality greater
than we could expect, considering that we have every clergy-
man in the kingdom to oppose it, and that the magistracy of
the place are every moment threatening its destruction."
And, therefore, this recreant Scot anathematizes the
Scottish people for not applauding blasphemy, calumny, and
every species of literary criminality ! Such are the monstrous
passions that swell out the poisonous breast of genius, deprived
of every moral restraint ; and such was the demoniac irrita-
bility which prompted a wish in CoUot d'Herbois to set fire
Literary Hatred. 135
to the four quarters of the city of Lyons ; while, in his *' ten-
der mercies," the kennels of the streets were running with
the blood of its inhabitants — remembering still that the
Lj'-onese had, when he was a miserable actor, hissed him off
the stage !
Stuart curses his country, and retreats to London. Fallen,
but not abject ; repulsed, but not altered ; degraded, but still
haughty. No change of place could operate any in his heart.
He was born in literary crime, and he perished in it. It was
now " The English Eeview " was instituted, with his idol
Whitaker, the historian of Manchester, and others. He says,
*' To Whitaker he assigns the palm of history in preference to
Hume and Robertson." I have heard that he considered him-
self higher than Whitaker, and ranked himself with Montes-
quieu. He negotiated for Whitaker and himself a Doctor of
Laws' degree ; and they were now in the titular possession of
all the fame which a dozen pieces could bestow ! In " The
English Review " broke forth all the genius of Stuart in an
unnatural warfare of Scotchmen in London against Scotch-
men at Edinburgh. " The bitter herbs," which seasoned it
against Blair, Robertson, Gibbon, and the ablest authors of
the age, at first provoked the public appetite, which afterwards
indignantly rejected the palatable garbage.
But to proceed with our Literary Conspiracy, which was
conducted by Stuart with a pertinacity of invention perhaps
not to be paralleled in literary history. That the peace of
mind of such an industrious author as Dr. HE]!fET was for a
considerable time destroyed ; that the sale of a work on which
Henry had expended much of his fortune and his life was
stopped ; and that, when covered with obloquy and ridicule,
in despair he left Edinburgh for London, still encountering the
same hostility ; that all this was the work of the same hand
perhaps was never even known to its victim. The multi-
plied forms of this Proteus of the Malevoli were still but one
devil ; fire or water, or a bull or a lion ; still ' it was the same
Proteus, the same Stuart.
From the correspondence before me I am enabled to collect
the commencement and the end of this literary conspiracy,
with all its intermediate links. It thus commences : —
''25 Nov. 1773.
" We have been attacked from different quarters, and Dr.
Henry in particular has given a long and a dull defence of his
136 Calamities of Authors,
sermon. I have replied to it with a degree of spirit altogether
unknown in this country. The reverend historian was perfectly
astonished, and has actually invited the Society for Propa-
gating Christian Knowledge to arm in his cause! I am
about to be persecuted by the whole clergy, and I am about
to persecute them in my turn. They are hot and zealous ;
I am cool and dispassionate, like a determined sceptic ; since
I have entered the lists, I must fight ; 1 must gain the vic-
tory, or perish like a man."
"13 Dec. 1773.
" David Hume wants to review Henry ; but that task is so
precious that I. will undertake it myself. Moses, were he to
ask it as a favour, should not have it ; yea, not even the man
after God's own heart."
*'i March, llli,
" This month Henry is utterly demolished ; his sale is
stopped, many of his copies are returned ; and his old friends
have forsaken him ; pray, in what state is he in London ?
Henry has delayed his London journey; you cannot easily
conceive how exceedingly he is humbled.*
" I wish I could transport myself to London to review him
for the Monthly. A fire there, and in the Critical, would
perfectly annihilate him. Could you do nothing in the latter ?
To the former I suppose David Hume has transcribed the
criticism he intended for us. It is precious, and would divert
you. I keep a proof of it in my cabinet for the amusement
of friends. This great philosopher begins to dote."t
* It may he curious to present Stuart's idea of the literary talents of
Henry. Henry's unhappy turn for humour, and a style little accordant
with historical dignity, lie fairly open to the critic's animadversion. But the
research and application of the writer, for that day, were considerable, and
are still appreciated. But we are told that **he neither furnishes enter-
tainment nor instruction. Diffuse, vulgar, and ungrammatical, he strips
history of all her ornaments. As an antiquary, he wants accuracy and
knowledge ; and, as an historian, he is destitute of fire, taste, and senti-
ment. His work is a gazette, in which we find actions and events, without
their causes ; and in which we meet with the names, without the characters
of personages. He has amassed all the refuse and lumber of the times he
would record.'* Stuart never imagined that the time would arrive when
the name of Henry would be familiar to English readers, and by many that
of Stuart would not be recollected.
t The critique on Henry, in the Monthly Review, was written by
Hume — and, because the philosopher was candid, he is here said to
liave doted.
Literary Hatred, 137
Stuart prepares to assail Henry, on his arrival in London,
from various quarters — to lower the value of his liistory in
the estimation of the purchasers.
"21 JIf ore^, 1774.
" To-morrow morning Henry sets off for London, with
immense hopes of sellin^j his history. I wish he had delayed
till our last review of him had reached your city. But I
really suppose that he has little probability of getting any
gratuity. The trade are too sharp to give precious gold for
perfect nonsense. I wish sincerely that I could enter Hol-
born the same hour with him. He should have a repeated
fire to combat with. 1 entreat that you may be so kind as
to let him feel some of your thunder. I shall never forget
the favour. If Whitaker is in London, he could give a blow.
Paterson will give him a knock. Strike by all means. The
wretch will tremble, grow pale, and return with a conscious-
ness of his debility. I entreat I may hear from you a day or
two after 3'ou have seen him. He will complain grievously
of me to Strahan and Rose. I shall send you a paper about
him — an advertisement from Parnassus, in the manner of
Boccalini."
** March, 1774.
" Dr. Henry has by this time reached you. I think you
ought to pay your respects to him in the Morning Chronicle.
If you would only transcribe his jests, it would make him
perfectly ridiculous. See, for example, what he says of St.
Dunstan. A word to the wise."
''March 21, 1774.
" I have a thousand thanks to give you for your insertion
of the paper in the London Chronicle, and for the part you
propose to act in regard to Henry. I could wish that you
knew for certain his being in London before you strike the
first blow. An inquiry at Cadell's will give this. When
you have an enemy to attack, I shall in return give my best
assistance, and aim at him a mortal blow, and rush forward
to his overthrow, though the flames of hell should start up
to oppose me.
" It pleases me, beyond what I can express, that Whitaker
has an equal contempt for Henry. The idiot threatened,
when he left Edinburgh, that he would find a method to
manage the Reviews, and that he would oppose their pane-
gyric to our censure. Hume has behaved ill in the affair,
138 Calamities of Authors.
and I am preparing to chastise him. You may expect a
series of papers in the Magazine, pointing out a multitude of
his errors, and ascertaining his ignorance of English history.
It was too much for my temper to be assailed both by infidels
and believers. My pride could not submit to it. I shall act
in my defence with a spirit which it seems they have not
expected."
" 11 ApHl, 1774.
" I received with infinite pleasure the annunciation of the
great man into the capital. It is forcible and excellent ; and
you have my best thanks for it. You improve amazingly.
The poor creature will be stupified with amazement. In-
closed is a paper for him. Boccalini will follow. I shall
fall upon a method to let David know Henry's transaction
about his review. It is mean to the last degree. But what
could one expect from the most ignorant and the most con-
temptible man alive ? Do you ever see Macfarlane ? He
owes me a favour for his history of George III., and would
give a fire for the packet. The idiot is to be Moderator for
the ensuing Assembly. It shall not, however, be without
opposition.
" Would the paragraph about him from the inclosed leaf
of the ' Edinburgh Review' be any disgrace to the Morning
Chronicle?'^
''20th May, 1774.
" Boccalini I thought of transmitting, when the reverend
historian, for whose use it was intended, made his appearance
at Edinburgh. But it will not be lost. He shall most cer-
tainly see it. David's critique was most acceptable. It is
a curious specimen in one view of insolent vanity, and in
another of contemptible meanness. The old historian begins
to dote, and the new one was never out of dotage."
''SApHl, 1775.
" I see every day that what is written to a man's disparage-
ment is never forgot nor forgiven. Poor Henry is on the point
of death, and his friends declare that I have killed him. I
received the information as a compliment, and begged they
would not do me so much honour."
But Henry and his history long survived Stuart and his
critiques ; and Robertson, Blair, and Kaimes, with others he
assailed, have all taken their due ranks in public esteem.
What niche does Stuart occupy ? His historical works pos-
Undue Severity of Criticism, 139
sess the show, without the sohdity, of research ; hardy para-
doxes, and an artificial ?,iy\Q of momentary brilhancy, are
none of the lasting materials of history. This shadow of
" Montesquieu," for he conceived him only to- be his fit rival,
derived the last consolations of life from an obscure corner of
a Burton ale-house — there, in rival potations, with two or
three other disappointed authors, they regaled themselves on
ale the}^ could not always pay for, and recorded their own
literary celebrity, which had never taken place. Some time
before his death, his asperity was almost softened by melan-
choly ; with a broken spirit, he reviewed himself; a victim
to that unrighteous ambition which sought to build up its
greatness with the ruins of his fellow-countrymen ; prema-
turely wasting talents which might have been directed to
literary eminence. And Gilbert Stuart died as he had lived,
a victim to intemperance, physical and moral !
UNDUE SEVERITY OF CRITICISM.
DR. KENRICK. — SCOTT OP AMWELL.
We have witnessed the malignant influence of illiberal criti-
cism, not only on literary men, but over literature itself, since
it is the actual cause of suppressing works which lie neglected,
though completed by their authors. The arts of literary con-
demnation, as they may be practised by men of wit and arro-
gance, are well known ; and it is much less difficult than it is
criminal, to scare the modest man of learning, and to rack the
man of genius, in that bright vision of authorship sometimes
indulged in the calm of their studies — a generous emotion to
inspire a generous purpose! With suppressed indignation,
shrinking from the press, such have condemned themselves to
a Carthusian silence; but the public will gain as little by
silent authors as by a community of lazy monks ; or a choir
of singers who insist they have lost their voice. That undue
severity of criticism which diminishes the number of good
authors, is a greater calamity than even that mawkish pane-
gyric which may invite indifferent ones ; for the truth is, a
bad book produces no great evil in literature ; it dies soon,
and naturally ; and the feeble birth only disappoints its un-
lucky parent, with a score of idlers who are the dupes of their
rage after novelty. A bad book never sells unless it be
140 Calamities of Authors.
addressed to the passions, and, in that case, the severest criti-
cism will never impede its circulation ; malignity and curiosity
being passions so much stronger and less delicate than taste
or truth.
And who are the authors marked out for attack ? Scarcely
one of the populace of scribblers ; for wit will not lose one
silver shaft on game which, struck, no one would take up. It
must level at the Historian, whose novel researches throw a
light in the depths of antiquity ; at the Poet, who, addressing
himself to the imagination, perishes if that sole avenue to the
heart be closed on him. Such are those who receive the criti-
cism which has sent some nervous authors to their graves, and
embittered the life of many whose talents we all regard.*
But this species of criticism, though ungenial and nip-
ping at first, does not always kill the tree which it has frozen
over.
In the calamity before us, Time, that great autocrat, who
in its tremendous march destroys authors, also annihilates
critics ; and acting in this instance with a new kind of bene-
volence, takes up some who have been violently thrown down,
and fixes them in their proper place ; and daily enfeebling
unjust criticism, has restored an injured author to his full
honours.
It is, however, lamentable enough that authors must par-
ticipate in that courage which faces the cannon's mouth, or
cease to be authors ; for military enterprise is not the taste
of modest, retired, and timorous characters. The late Mr.
Cumberland used to say that authors must not be thin-
skinned, but shelled like the rhinoceros ; there are, however,
more delicately tempered animals among them, new-born
lambs, who shudder at a touch, and die imder a pressure.
As for those great authors (though the greatest shrink
from ridicule) who still retain public favour, the}' must be
* So sensible was even the calm Newton to critical attacks, that Whiston
tells US he lost his favour, which he had enjoyed for twenty years, for con-
tradicting Newton in his old age ; for no man was of " a more fearful tem-
per." Whiston declares that he would not have thought proper to have
published his work against Newton's " Chronology" in his lifetime, "be-
cause I knew his temper so well, that I should have expected it would have
killed him ; as Dr. Bentley, Bishop Stiilingfleet's chaplain, told me, that
he believed Mr. Locke's thorough confutation of the Bishop's metaphysics
about the Trinity hastened his end." Pope writhed in his chair from the
light shafts which Gibber darted on him ; yet they were not tipped with the
poison of the Java-tree. Dr. Hawkesworth died of criticism,. — Singing-
birds cannot live in a storm.
Undue Severity of Criticism, ' 141
patient, proud, and fearless — patient of that obloquy which
still will stain their honour from literary echoers; proud,
while they are sensible that their literary offspring is not
Deformed, unfinished, sent before its time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up.
And fearless of all critics, when they recollect the reply of
Bentley to one who threatened to write him down, " that no
author was ever written down but by himself."
An author must consider himself as an arrow shot into the
world ; his impulse must be stronger than the current of air
that carries him on — else he fall !
The character I had proposed to illustrate this calamity
was the caustic Dr. Kenrick, who, once during several years,
was, in his "London Review," one of the great disturbers of
hterary repose. The turn of his criticism ; the airiness, or
the asperity of his sarcasm ; the arrogance with which he
treated some of our great authors, would prove very amusing,
and serve to display a certain talent of criticism. The life of
Kenrick, too, would have afforded some wholesome instruction
concerning the morality of a critic. But the rich materials
are not at hand ! He was a man of talents, who ran a race
with the press ; could criticise all the genius of the age faster
than it could be produced ; could make his own malignity
look like wit, and turn the wit of others into absurdity, by
placing it topsy-turvy. As thus, when he attacked "The
Traveller" of Goldsmith, which he called "a flimsy poem,"
he discussed the subject as a grave political pamphlet, con-
demning the whole system, as raised on false principles.
"The Deserted Village" was sneeringly pronounced to be
" pretty ;" but then it had " neither fancy, dignity, genius, or
fire." When he reviewed Johnson's " Tour to the Hebrides,"
he decrees that the whole book was written " by one who had
seen but little," and therefore could not be very interesting.
His virulent attack on Johnson's Shakspeare may be preserved
for its total want of literary decency ; and his " Love in the
Suds, a Town Eclogue," where he has placed Grarrick with an
infamous character, may be useful to show how far witty ma-
lignity will advance in the violation of moral decency. He
hbelled all the genius of the age, and was proud of doing it.*
♦ In one of his own publications he quotes, with great self- complacency,
the following lines on himself : —
142 ' Calamities of Authors.
Johnson and Akenside preserved a stem silence : but poor
Goldsmith, the child of Nature, could not resist attempting
to execute martial law, by caning the critic ; for which being
blamed, he published a defence^'of himself in the papers. I
shall transcribe his feelings on Kenrick's excessive and illiberal
criticism.
" The law gives us no protection against this injury. The
insults we receive before the public, by being more open, are
the more distressing ; by treating them with silent contempt,
we do not pay a sufficient deference to the opinion of the
world. By recurring to legal redress, we too often expose
the weakness of the law, which only serves to increase our
mortification by failing to relieve us. In short, every man
should singly consider himself as a guardian of the liberty of
the press, and, as far as his influence can extend, should
endeavour to prevent its licentiousness becoming at last the
grave of its freedom."*
Here then is another calamity arising from the calamity of
undue severity of criticism, which authors bring on them-
selves by their excessive anxiety, which throws them into
some extremely ridiculous attitudes ; and surprisingly in-
fluences even authors of good sense and temper. Scott, of
Amwell, the Quaker and Poet, was, doubtless, a modest and
amiable man, for Johnson declared " he loved him." When
his poems were collected, they were reviewed in the " Critical
Review" very offensively to the poet ; for the critic, alluding
to the numerous embellishments of the volume, observed
that
" There is a profusion of ornaments and finery about this
" The wits who drink water and suck sugar-candy,
Impute the strong spirit of Kenrick to brandy :
They are not so much out ; the matter in short is,
He sips aqua-vitce and spits aqua-fords."
* Dr. Kenrick's character and career is thus summed up in the " Biogra-
phia Dramatica:" — "This author, with singular abilities, was neither
happy or successful. Few persons were ever less respected by the world ;
still fewer have created so many enemies, or dropped into the grave so
little regretted by their contemporaries. He was seldom without an enemy
to attack or defend himself from." He was the son of a London citizen,
and is said to have served an apprenticeship to a brass-rule maker. One
of his best known literary works was a comedy called Falstaff^s Wedding,
which met with considerable success upon the stage, although its author
ventured on the difficult task of adopting Shakespeare's characters, and
putting new words into the mouth of the immortal Sir John and his satel-
lites. — Ed.
Undue Severity of Criticism, 143
TDOok not quite suitable to the plainness and simplicity of the
Barclean system ; but Mr. Scott is fond of the Muses, and
wishes, we suppose, like Captain Macheath, to see his ladies
well dressed."
Such was the cold affected witticism of the critic, whom I
intimately knew — and I believe he meant little harm ! His
friends imagined even that this was the solitary attempt at
wit he had ever made in his life ; for after a lapse of years,
he would still recur to it as an evidence of the felicity of his
fancy, and the keenness of his satire. The truth is, he was a
phj^sician, whose name is prefixed as the editor to a great
medical compilation, and who never pretended that he had
any taste for poetry. His great art of poetical criticism was
always, as Pope expresses a character, " to dwell in decencies;"
his acumen, to detect that terrible poetic crime false rhymes,
and to employ indefinite terms, which, as they had no precise
meaning, were applicable to all things ; to commend, occa-
sionally, a passage not always the most exquisite ; sometimes
to hesitate, while, with delightful candour, he seemed to give
up his opinion ; to hazard sometimes a positive condemnation
on parts which often unluckily proved the most favourite
with the poet and the reader. Such was this poetical re-
viewer, whom no one disturbed in his periodical course, till
the circumstance of a plain Quaker becoming a poet, and flut-
tering in the finical ornaments of his book, provoked him
from that calm state of innocent mediocrity, into miserable
humour, and illiberal criticism.
The effect, however, this pert criticism had on poor Scott
was indeed a calamity. It produced an inconsiderate " Letter
to the Critical Reviewers." Scott was justly offended at the
stigma of Quakerism, applied to the author of a literary com-
position ; but too gravely accuses the critic of his scurrilous
allusion to Macheath, as comparing him to a highwayman ;
he seems, however, more provoked at the odd account of his
poems ; he says, " You rank all my poems together as had,
then discriminate some as good, and, to complete all, recom-
mend the volume as an agreeable and amusing collection.^^
Had the poet been personally acquainted with this tantalizing
critic, he would have comprehended the nature of the criti-
cism — and certainly would never have replied to it.
The critic, employing one of his indefinite terms, had said
of "Amwell," and some of the early " Elegies," that "they
had their share of poetical merit j" he does not venture to
144 Calamities of Author$.
assign the proportion of that share, hut " the Amoebean and
oriental eclogues, odes, epistles, &c., now added, are of a much
tveaker feature, and many of them incorrect*'
Here Scott loses all his dignity as a Quaker and a poet —
he asks what the critic means by the affected phrase much
weaker feature ; the style, he says, was designed to be some-
what less elevated, and thus addresses the critic : —
" You may, however, be safely defied to pronounce them,
with truth, deficient either in strength or melody of versifi-
cation ! They were designed to be, like Virgil's, descriptive
of Nature, simple and correct. Had you been disposed to do
me justice, you might have observed that in these eclogues I
had drawn from the great prototype Nature, much imagery
that had escaped the notice of all my predecessors. You
might also have remarked that when I introduced images
that had been already introduced by others, still the arrange-
ment or combination of those images was my own. The
praise of originahty you might at least have allowed me.**
As for their incorrectness ! — Scott points that accusation
with a note of admiration, adding, "with whatever defects
my works may be chargeable, the last is that of incorrect-
nessr
We are here involuntarily reminded of Sir Fretful, in The
Critic: —
" I think the interest rather declines in the fourth act.*'
** Kises ! you mean, my dear friend !**
Perhaps the most extraordinary examples of the irritation
of a poet's mind, and a man of amiable temper, are those
parts of this letter in which the author quotes large portions
of his poetry, to refute the degrading strictures of the re-
viewer.
This was a fertile principle, admitting of very copious ex-
tracts ; but the ludicrous attitude is that of an Adonis in-
specting himself at his mirror.
That provoking see-saw of criticism, which our learned
physician usually adopted in his critiques, was particularly
tantalizing to the poet of Amwell. The critic condemns, in
the gross, a whole set of eclogues ; but immediately asserts
of one of them, that " the whole of it has great poetical
merit, and paints its subject in the warmest colours.** When
he came to review the odes, he discovers that " he does not
meet with those poUshed numbers, nor that freedom and
spirit, which that species of poetry requires j'* and quotes half
Undue Severity of Criticism. 145
a stanza, which he declares is " abrupt and insipid." " From
twent3^-seven odes!" exclaims the writhing poet — "are the
whole of my lyric productions to be stigmatised for four lines
which are flatter than those that preceded them ?" But
what the critic could not be aware of, the poet tells us — he
designed them to be just what they are. " I knew they were
so when they were first written, but they were thought suf-
ficiently elevated for the place." And then he enters into an
inquiry what the critic can mean by " polished numbers, free-
dom, and spirit." The passage is curious : —
" By your first criticism, pollsJied numlers, if you mean
melodious versification, this perhaps the general ear will not
deny me. If you mean classical, chaste diction, free from
tautologous repetitions of the same thoughts in different ex-
pressions ; free from bad rhymes, unnecessary epithets, and in-
congruous metaphors, I believe you may be safely challenged
to produce many instances wherein I have failed.
" By freedom, your second criterion, if you mean daring
transition, or arbitrary and desultory disposition of ideas,
however this may be required in the greater ode, it is now,
I believe, for the first time, expected in the lesser ode. If
you mean that careless, difiuse composition, that conversation-
verse, or verse loitering into prose, now so fashionable, this is
an excellence which I am not very ambitious of attaining.
But if you mean strong, concise, yet natural easy expression,
I apprehend the general judgment will decide in my favour.
To the general ear, and the general judgment, then, do I
appeal as to an impartial tribunal." Here several odes are
transcribed. " By spirit, your third criticism, I know nothing
you can mean but enthusiasm ; that which transports us to
every scene, and interests us in every sentiment. Poetry
without this cannot subsist ; every species demands its .pro
portion, from the greater ode, of which it is the principal
characteristic, to the lesser, in which a small portion of it
only has hitherto been thought requisite. My productions,
I apprehend, have never before been deemed destitute of this
essential constituent. Whatever I have wrote, I have felt,
and 1 believe others have felt it also."
On " the Epistles," which had been condemned in the gross,
suddenly the critic turns round courteously to the bard, de-
claring " they are written in an easy and familiar style, and
seem to flow f.'om a good and a benevolent heart." But then
sneeringly adds, that one of them being entitled " An Essay
L
146 Calamities of Authors.
on Painting, addressed to a young Artist, had better have
been omitted, because it had been so fully treated in so mas-
terly a manner by Mr. Hayley." This was letting fall a
spark in a barrel of gunpowder. Scott immediately analyses
his brother poet's poem, to show they have nothing in com-
mon ; and then compares those similar passages the subject
naturally produced, to show that " his poem does not suffer
greatly in the comparison." "You may," he adds, after
giving copious extracts from both poems, " persist in saying
that Mx. Hayley's are the best. Your business then is to
prove it." This, indeed, had been a very hazardous affair for
our medical critic, whose poetical feelings were so equable,
that he acknowledges " Mr. Scott's poem is just and elegant,"
but " Mr. Hayley's is likewise just and elegant ;" therefore,
if one man has written a piece "just and elegant," there is
no need of another on the same subject "just and elegant."
To such an extreme point of egotism was a modest and
respectable author most cruelly driven by the callous playful-
Tiess of a poetical critic, who himself had no sympathy for
poetry of any quality or any species, and whose sole art con-
sisted in turning about the canting dictionary of criticism.
Had Homer been a modern candidate for poetical honours,
from him Homer had not been distinguished, even from the
mediocrity of Scott of Amwell, whose poetical merits are not,
however, slight. In his Amoebean eclogues he may be dis-
tinguished as the poet of botanists.
A VOLUMINOUS AUTHOR WITHOUT JUDGMENT.
Vast erudition, without the tact of good sense, in a volumi-
nous author, what a calamity ! for to such a mind no subject
can present itself on which he is unprepared to write, and
none at the same time on which he can ever write reasonably.
The name and the works of William Petnne have often
come under the eye of the reader ; but it is even now difficult
to discover his real character ; for Prynne stood so completely
insulated amid all parties, that he was ridiculed by his friends,
and execrated by his enemies. The exuberance of his fertile
pen, the strangeness and the manner of his subjects, and his
pertinacity in voluminous publication, are known, and are
nearly unparalleled in literary history.
Could the man himself be separated from the author,
A Voluminous Author without Judgment, 147
Prynne would not appear ridiculous ; but the unlucky author
of nearly two hundred works,* and who, as Wood quaintly
computes, " must have written a sheet every day of his life,
reckoning from the time that he came to the use of reason
and the state of man," has involved his life in his authorship ;
the greatness of his character loses itself in his voluminous
works ; and whatever Prynne may have been in his own age,
and remains to posterity, he was fated to endure all the cala-
mities of an author who has strained learning into absurdity,
and abused zealous industry by chimerical speculation.
Yet his activity, and the firmness and intrepidity of his
character in public life, were as ardent as they were in his
study — his soul was Eoman ; and Eachard says, that Charles
II., who could not but admire his earnest honesty, his copious
learning, and the public persecutions he suffered, and the ten
imprisonments he endured, inflicted by all parties, dignified
him with the title of " the Cato of the Age ;" and one of his
own party facetiously described him as " William the Con-
queror," a title he had most hardly earned by his inflexible
and invincible nature. Twice he had been cropped of his
ears ; for at the first time the executioner having spared the
two fragments, the inhuman judge on his second trial disco-
vering them with astonishment, ordered them to be most un-
mercifully cropped — then he was burned on his cheek, and
ruinously fined and imprisoned in a remote solitude, f — but
* That all these works should not be wanting to posterity, Prynne de-
posited the complete collection in the library of Lincoln's-Inn, about forty
volumes in folio and quarto. Noy, the Attorney-Greneral, Prynne's great
adversary, was provoked at the society's acceptance of these ponderous
volumes, and promised to send them the voluminous labours of Taylor the
water-poet, to place by their side ; he judged, as Wood says, that "Prynne's
books were worth little or nothing ; that his proofs were no arguments, and
his affirmations no testimonies." But honest Anthony, in spite of his pre-
judices against Prynne, confesses, that though " by the generality of
scholars they are looked upon to be rather rhapsodical and confused than
polite or concise, yet, for antiquaries, critics, and sometimes for divines,
they are useful." Such erudition as Prynne's always retains its value —
the author who could quote a hundred authors on "the unloveliness of
love-locks," will always make a good literary chest of drawers, well filled,
for those who can make better use of their contents than himself.
+ Prynne seems to have considered being debarred from pen, ink, and
books as an act more barbarous than the loss of his ears. See his curious
book of *' A New Discovery of the Prelate's Tyranny ;" it is a complete col-
lection of everything relating to Prynne, Bast wick, and Burton ; three
political fanatics, who seem impatiently to have courted the fate of Marsyas.
Prynne, in his voluminous argument, proving the illegality of the sentences
l2
148 Calamities of Authors.
had they torn him limh by limb, Prynne had been in his
mind a very polypus, which, cut into pieces, still loses none of
its individuality.
His conduct on the last of these occasions, when sentenced
to be stigmatised, and to have his ears cut close, must be
noticed. Turning to the executioner, he calmly invited him
to do his duty — " Come, friend, come, burn me ! cut me ! I
fear not ! I have learned to fear the fire of hell, and not what
man can do unto me ; come, scar me ! scar me !" In Prynne
this was not ferocity, but heroism ; Bastwick was intrepid out
of spite, and Burton from fanaticism. The executioner had
been urged not to spare his victims, and he performed his
office with extraordinary severity, cruelly heating his iron
twice, and cutting one of Prynne's ears so close, as to take
away a piece of the cheek. Prynne stirred not in the torture ;
and when it was done, smiled, observing, " The more I am
he had suffered, in his ninth point thus gives way to all the feelings of
Martinus Scriblerus : — "Point 9th, that the prohibiting of me pen, ink,
paper, and books, is against law." He employs an ai-gument to prove that
the abuse of any lawful thing never takes away the use of it ; therefore the
law does not deprive gluttons or drunkards of necessary meat and drink ;
this analogy he applies to his pen, ink, and books, of which they could not
deprive him, though they might punish him for their abuse. He asserts
that the popish prelates, in the reign of Mary, were the first who invented
this new torture of depriving a scribbler of pen and ink. He quotes a long
passage from Ovid's Tristia, to prove that, though exiled to the Isle of
Pontus for his wanton books of love, pen and ink were not denied him to
compose new poems ; that St. John, banished to the Isle of Patmos by
the persecuting Domitian, still was allowed pen and ink, for there he
wrote the Kevelation — and he proceeds with similar facts. Prynne's
books abound with uncommon facts on common topics, for he had no
discernment ; and he seems to have written to convince himself, and not
the public.
But to show the extraordinary perseverance of Prynne in his love of
scribbling, I transcribe the following title of one of his extraordinary
works. He published * ' Comfortable Cordial against Discomfortable Fears
of Imprisonment, containing some Latin verses, sentences and texts of
Scripture, written iy Mr. Wm. Prynne on his chamber-walls in the Tower
of London during his imprisonment there ; translated by him into English
verse," 1641. Prynne literally verifies Pope's description —
" Is there who lock'd from ink and paper, scrawls
With desperate charcoal round his darken'd walls ?"
fJ'e have also a catalogue of printed books written by Wm. Prynne, of
Lincoln's-Inn, Esq., in these classes —
Before
During ^ his imprisonment, with the motto Jucundi acti labores. 1643.
Since*
A Voluminous Author without Judgment. 149
beaten down, the more I am lift up." After this punishment,
in going to the Tower by water, he composed the following
verses on the two letters branded on his cheek, S. L., for
schismatical libeller, but which Prynne chose to translate
" Stigmata Laudis," the stigmas of his enemy, the Archbishop
Laud.
Stigmata maxillis referens insignia Laudis,
Exultans remeo, victima grata Deo.
The heroic man, who could endure agony and insult, and
even thus commemorate his sufferings, with no unpoetical
conception, almost degrades his own sublimity when the
poetaster sets our teeth on edge by his verse.
Bearing Laud's stamps on my cheeks I retire
Triumphing, God's sweet sacrifice by fire.
The triumph of this unconquered being was, indeed, signal.
History scarcely exhibits so wonderful a reverse of fortune,
and so strict a retribution, as occurred at this eventful period.
He who had borne from the archbishop and the lords in the
Star Chamber the most virulent invectives, wishing them at
that instant seriously to consider that some who sat there on
the bench might yet stand prisoners at the bar, and need the
favour they now denied, at length saw the prediction com-
pletely verified. What were the feelings of Laud, when
Prynne, returning from his prison of Mount Orgueil in
triumph, the road strewed with boughs, amid the acclama-
tions of the people, entered the apartment in the Tower
which the venerable Laud now in his turn occupied. The
unsparing Puritan sternly performed the office of rifling his
papers,* and persecuted the helpless prelate till he led him to
* The interesting particulars of this interview have been preserved by
the Archbishop himself — and it is curious to observe how Laud could now
utter the same tones of murmur and grief to which Prynne himself had
recently given way. Studied insult in these cases accompanies power in
the hands of a faction. I collect these particulars from " The History of
the Troubles and Tryal of Archbishop Laud," and refer to Vicars's "God
in the Mount, or a Parliamentarie Chronicle," p. 344, for the Puritanic
triumphs.
"My implacable enemy, Mr. Pryn, was picked out as a man whose
malice might be trusted to make the search upon me, and he did it exactly.
The manner of the search upon me was thus : Mr. Pryn came into the
Tower so soon as the gates were open — commanded the Warder to open my
door— he came into my chamber, and found me in bed — Mr. Pryn seeing
me safe in bed, falls first to my pockets to rifle them — it was expressed in
the warrant that he should search my pockets. Did they remember, when
150 Calamities of Authors.
the block. Prynne, to use his own words, for he could be
eloquent when moved by passion, " had struck proud Can-
terbury to the heart ; and had undermined all his prelatical
designs to advance the bishops' pomp and power;"* Prynne
triumphed — but, even this austere Puritan soon grieved over
the calamities he had contributed to inflict on the nation ;
and, with a humane feeling, he once wished, that " when
they had cut off his ears, they had cut off his head." He
closed his political existence by becoming an advocate for the
Restoration; but, with his accustomed want of judgment
and intemperate zeal, had nearly injured the cause by his
premature activity. At the Restoration some difiBculty
occurred to dispose of " busie Mr. Pryn," as Whitelocke calls
him. It is said he wished to be one of the Barons of the
they gave this warrant, how odious it was to Parliaments, and some of them-
selves, to have the pockets of men searched ? I rose, got my gown upon my
shoulders, and he held me in the search till past nine in the morning (he
had come in betimes in the morning in the month of May). He took from
me twenty-one bundles of papers which I had prepared for my defence, &c.,
a little book or diary, containing all the occurrences of my life, and ray
book of private devotions ; both written with my own hand. Nor could I
get him to leave this last ; he must needs see what passed between God
and me. The last place he rifled was a trunk which stood by my bed-
side ; in that he found nothing but about forty pounds in money, for
my necessary expenses, which he meddled not with, and a bundle of some
gloves. This bundle he was so careful to open, as that he caused each
glove to be looked into ; upon this I tendered him one pair of the gloves,
which he refusing, I told him he might take them, and fear no bribe, for he
had already done me all the mischief he could, and I asked no favour of
him ; so he thanked me, took the gloves, and bound up my papers, and went
his way." — Prynne had a good deal of cunning in his character, as well
as fortitude. He had all the subterfuges and quirks which, perhaps, form
too strong a feature in the character of "an utter Barrister of Lincoln's
Inn." His great artifice was secretly printing extracts from the diary of
Laud, and placing a copy in the hands of every member of the House, which
was a sudden stroke on the Archbishop, when at the bar, that at the mo-
ment overcame him. Once when Prynne was printing one of his libels, he
attempted to deny being the author, and ran to the printing-house to
distribute the forms, but it was proved he had corrected the proof and the
revise. Another time, when he had written a libellous letter to the Arch-
bishop, Noy, the Attorney-General, sent for Prynne from his prison, and
demanded of him whether the letter was of his own handwriting. Prynne
said he must see and read the letter before he could determine ; and when
Noy gave it to him, Prynne tore it to pieces, and threw the fragments out
of the window, that it might not be brought in evidence against him.
Noy had presenred a copy, but that did not avail him, as Prynne well
knew that the misdemeanour was in the letter itself ; and Noy gave up the
prosecution, as there was now no remedy.
Breviate of the Bishop's intolerable usurpations, p. 35,
A Voluminous Author without Judgment, 151
Exchequer, but he was made the Keeper of the Eeeords in
the Tower, " purposely to employ his head from scribbling
against the state and bishops ;" where they put him to clear
the Augean stable of our national antiquities, and see whe-
ther they could weary out his restless vigour. Prynne had,
indeed, written till he found no antagonist would reply ; and
now he rioted in leafy folios, and proved himself to be one
of the greatest paper- worms which ever crept into old books
and mouldy records.*
The literary character of Prynne is described by the happy
epithet which Anthony Wood applies to him, " Voluminous
Prynne." His great characteristic is opposed to that axiom
of Hesiod so often quoted, that "half is better than the
whole ;" a secret which the matter-of-fact men rarely dis-
cover. Wanting judgment, and the tact of good sense, these
detailers have no power of selection from their stores, to
make one prominent fact represent the hundred minuter ones
that may follow it. Voluminously feeble, they imagine ex-
pansion is stronger than compression ; and know not to
generalise, while they only can deal in particulars. Prynne's
speeches were just as voluminous as his writings ; always
deficient in judgment, and abounding in knowledge — he was
always wearying others, but never could himself. He once
made a speech to the House, to persuade them the king's
concessions were sufficient ground for a treaty ; it contains a
complete narrative of all the transactions between the king,
the Houses, and the army, from the beginning of the parlia-
ment ; it takes up 140 octavo pages, and kept the house so
long together, that the debates lasted from Monday morning
till Tuesday morning !
Prynne's literary character may be illustrated by his sin-
\^ular book, " Histriomastix," — where we observe how an
author's exuberant learning, like corn heaped in a granary,
grows rank and musty, by a want of power to ventilate and
stir about the heavy mass.
This paper-worm may first be viewed in his study, as
* While Keeper of the Records, he set all the great energies of his
nature to work upon the national archives. The result appeared in three
folio volumes of the greatest value to the historian. They were published
irregularly, and at intervals of time — thus the second volume was issued
in 1665 ; the first in 1666 ; and the third in 1670. The first two volumes
are of the utmost rarity, nearly all the copies having been destroyed in the
great fire of Loudon. — Ed.
152 Calamities of Authors.
painted by the picturesque Anthony Wood ; an artist in the
Flemish school : —
" His custom, when he studied, was to put on a long
quilted cap, which came an inch over his eyes, serving as an
umbrella to defend them from too much light, and seldom
eating any dinner, would be every three hours maunching a
roll of bread, and now and then refresh his exhausted spirits
with ale brought to him by his servant ;" a custom to which
Butler alludes,
Thou that with ale, or viler liquors,
Didst inspire Withers, Prynne, and Vicars,
And force them, though it were in spite
Of nature, and their stars, to write.
The " HiSTEiOMASTix, the Player's Scourge, or Actor's
Tragedie," is a ponderous quarto, ascending to about 1100
pages ; a Puritan's invective against plays and players, ac-
cusing them of every kind of crime, including libels against
Church and State ;* but it is more remarkable for the incal-
culable quotations and references foaming over the margins.
Prynne scarcely ventures on the most trivial opinion, without
calling to his aid whatever had been said- in all nations and in
all ages; and Cicero, and Master Stubbs, Petrarch and
Minutius Felix, Isaiah and Froissart's Chronicle, oddly asso-
ciate in the ravings of erudition. Who, indeed, but the
author " who seldom dined," could have quoted perhaps a
thousand writers in one volume ?t A wit of the times re-
marked of this Helluo librorum, that " Nature makes ever
the dullest beasts most laborious, and the greatest feeders ;"
and Prynne has been reproached with a weak digestion, for
" returning things unaltered, which is a symptom of a feeble
stomach."
When we examine this volume, often alluded to, the birth
of the monster seems prodigious and mysterious ; it combines
two opposite qualities ; it is so elaborate in its researches
among the thousand authors quoted, that these required
years to accumulate, and yet the matter is often temporary,
* Hume, in his History, has given some account of this enormous quaxto ;
to which I refer the reader, vol. vi. chap. lii.
t Milton admirably characterises Prynne' s absurd learning, as well as
his character, in his treatise on ' ' The likeliest means to remove hirelings
out of the Church," as ** alate hot querist for tythes, whom ye may know
by his wits lying ever beside him in the margin, to he ever beside his wita
in the text. A fierce Refonner once ; now rankled with a contrary heat."
A Voluminous Author without Judgment. 153
and levelled at fugitive events and particular persons ; thus
the very formation of this mighty volume seems paradoxical.
The secret history of this book is as extraordinary as the
book itself, and is a remarkable evidence how, in a work of
immense erudition, the arts of a wily sage involved himself,
and whoever was concerned in his book, in total ruin. The
author was pilloried, fined, and imprisoned; his publisher
condemned in the penalty of five hundred pounds, and barred
for ever from printing and selling books, and the licenser re-
moved and punished. Such was the fatality attending the
book of a man whose literary voracity produced one of the
most tremendous indigestions, in a malady of writing.
It was on examining Prynne's trial I discovered the secret
history of the " Histriomastix." Prynne was seven years in
writing this work, and, what is almost incredible, it was near
four years passing through the press. During that interval
the eternal scribbler was daily gorging himself with volu-
minous food, and daily fattening his cooped-up capon. The
temporary sedition and libels were the gradual Mosaic inlay-
ings through this shapeless mass.
It appears that the volume of 1100 quarto pages originally
consisted of little more than a quire of paper ; but Prynne
found insuperable difficulties in procuring a licenser, even for
this infant Hercules. Dr. Goode deposed that —
" About eight years ago Mr. Prynne brought to him a
quire of paper to license, which he refused ; and he recol-
lected the circumstance by having held an argument with
Prynne on his severe reprehension on the unlawfulness of a
man to put on women's apparel, which, the good-humoured
doctor asserted was not always unlawful ; for suppose Mr.
Prynne yourself, as a Christian, was persecuted by pagans,
think you not if you disguised yourself in your maid's
apparel, you did well ? Prynne sternly answered that he
thought himself bound rather to yield to death than to
do so."
Another licenser. Dr. Harris, deposed, that about seven
years ago —
" Mr. Prynne came to him to license a treatise concerning
stage-plays ; but he would not allow of the same ;" — and
adds, " So this man did deliver this book when it was young
and tender, and would have had it then printed ; but it is
since grown seven times bigger, and seven times worse."
Prynne not being" able to procure these licensers, had
154 Calamities of Authors.
recourse to another, Buckner, chaplain to the Archbishop of
Canterbury. It was usual for the licenser, to examine th?
MS. before it went to the press ; but Prynne either tampered
with Buckner, or so confused his intellects by keeping his
multifarious volume in the press for four years ; and some-
times, I suspect, by numbering folios for pages, as appears in
the work, that the examination of the hcenser gradually
relaxed; and he declares in his defence that he had only
licensed part of it. The bookseller. Sparks, was indeed a
noted publisher of what was then called " Unlawful and un-
licensed books ;" and he had declared that it was " an excel-
lent book, which would be called in, and then sell well." He
confesses the book had been more than three years in the
press, and had cost him three hundred pounds.
The speech of Noy, the Attorney-General, conveys some
notion of the work itself ; sufficiently curious as giving the
feelings of those times against the Puritans.
" Who he means by his modern innovators in the church,
and by cringing and ducking to altars, a fit term to bestow
on the church ; he learned it of the canters, being used among
them. The musick in the church, the charitable term he
giveth it, is not to be a noise of men, but rather a hleating of
hrute heasts ; choristers bellow the tenor, as it were oxen ;
bark a counterpoint as a kennel of dogs ; roar out a treble
like a sort of bulls ; grunt out a bass, as it were a number of
hogs. Bishops he calls the silk and satin divines ; says Christ
was a Puritan, in his Index. He faUeth on those things ,
that have not relation to stage-plays, musick in the church,
dancing, new-years' gifts, &c., — then upon altars, images,
hair of men and women, bishops and bonfires. Cards and
tables do offend him, and perukes do fall within the compass
of his theme. His end is to persuade the people that we are
returning back again to paganism, and to persuade them to
go and serve God in another country, as many are gone
already, and set up new laws and fancies among themselves.
Consider what may come of it !'*
The decision of the Lordsof the Star Chamber was dictated
by passion as much as justice. Its severity exceeded the
crime of having produced an unreadable volume of indigested
erudition ; and the learned scribbler was too hardly used,
scarcely escaping with life. Lord Cottington, amazed at the
mighty volume, too bluntly affirmed that Prynne did not
write this book alone j " he either assisted the devil, or was
Genius and Erudition the Victims of Vanity. 155
assisted by the devil." But secretary Cooke delivered a sensi-
ble and temperate speech ; remarking on all its false erudition
that,
" By this vast book of Mr. Prynne's, it appeareth that he
hath read more than he hath studied, and studied more than
he hath considered. He calleth his book ' Histriomastix ;'
but therein he showeth himself like unto Ajax Anthropomas-
tix, as the Grecians called him, the scourge of all mankind,
that is, the whipper and the whip."
Such is the history of a man whose greatness of character
was clouded over and lost in a fatal passion for scribbling ;
such is the history of a voluminous author whose genius was
such that he could write a folio much easier than a page ;
and " seldom dined " that he might quote " squadrons
of authorities."*
GENIUS AND ERUDITION THE VICTIMS OF IMMODERATE
VANITY.
The name of Tolaist) is more familiar than his character, yet
his literary portrait has great singularity ; he must be classed
among the " Authors by Profession," an honour secured by
near fifty publications ; and we shall discover that he aimed to
combine with the literary character one peculiarly his own.f
* The very expression Prynne himself uses, see p. 668 of the Histrio-
mastix ; where having gone through *' three squadrons," he commences a
fresh chapter thus : " The fourth squadron of authorities is the venerable
troope of 70 several renowned ancient fathers ;" and he throws in more
than he promised, all which are quoted volume and page, as so many
"play-confounding arguments." He has quoted perhaps from three to
four hundred authors on a single point.
+ Toland was born in Ireland, in 1669, of Roman Catholic parents, but
became a zealous opponent of that faith before he was sixteen ; after which
he finished his education at Glasgow and Edinburgh ; he retired to study at
Leyden, where he formed the acquaintance of Leibnitz and other learned
men. His first book, published in 1696, and entitled "Christianity not
Mysterious," was met by the strongest denunciation from the pulpit, was
•' presented" by the grand jury of Middlesex, and ordered to be burnt by
the common hangman by the Parliament of Ireland. He was henceforth
driven for employ to literature ; and in 1699 was engaged by the Duke of
Newcastle to edit the "Memoirs of Denzil, Lord Hollis ;" and afterwards
by the Earl of Oxford on a new edition of Harrington's " Oceana." He
then visited the Courts of Berlin and Hanover. He published many
works on politics and religion, the latter all remarkable for their deistical
tendencies, and died in March,^ 1722, at the age of 53. — Eu.
156 Calamities of Authors.
With higher talents and mqre learning than have been con-
ceded to him, there ran in his mind an original vein of think-
ing. Yet his whole life exhibits in how small a degree great
intellectual powers, when scattered through all the forms
which Vanity suggests, will contribute to an author's social
comforts, or raise him in public esteem. Toland was fruitful
in his productions, and still more so in his projects ; yet it is
mortifying to estimate the result of all the intense activity of
the life of an author of genius, which terminates in being
placed among these Calamities.
Toland's birth was probably illegitimate ; a circumstance
which influenced the formation of his character. Baptised in
ridicule, he had nearly fallen a victim to Mr. Shandy's system
of Christian names, for he bore the strange ones of Janus
Junius, which, when the school-roll was called over every
morning, afforded perpetual merriment, till the master blessed
him with plain John, which the boy adopted, and lived in
quiet. I must say something on the names themselves, per-
haps as ridiculous ! May theynot have influenced the character
of Toland, since they certainly describe it ? He had all the
shiftings of the double-faced ' Janus, and the revolutionary
politics of the ancient Junius. His godfathers sent him into
the world in cruel mockery, thus to remind their Irish boy of
the fortunes that await the desperately bold : nor did Toland
forget the strong-marked designations ; for to his most
objectionable work, the Latin tract entitled Pantheisticon,
descriptive of what some have considered as an atheistical
society, he subscribes these appropriate names, which at the
time were imagined to be fictitious.
Toland ran away from school and Popery. When in after-
life he was reproached with native obscurity, he ostentatiously
produced a testimonial of his birth and family, hatched up at
a convent of Irish Franciscans in Germany, where the good
Fathers subscribed, with their ink tinged with their Rhenish,
to his most ancient descent, referring to the Irish history !
which they considered as a parish register, fit for the suspected
son of an Irish Priest !
Toland, from early life, was therefore dependent on patrons ;
but illegitimate birth creates strong and determined characters,
and Toland had all the force and originality of self-indepen-
dence. He was a seed thrown by chance, to grow of itself
wherever it falls.
This child of fortune studied at four Universities ; at Glas-
Genius and Erudition the Victims of Vanity, 157
gow, Edinburgh, and Leyden ; from the latter he passed to
Oxford, and, in the Bodleian Library, collected the materials
for his after-studies.
He loved study, and even at a later period declares that
" no employment or condition of life shall make me disrelish
the lasting entertainment of books." In his " Description
of Epsom," he observes that the taste for retirement, read-
ing, and contemplation, promotes the true relish for select
company, and says,
" Thus I remove at pleasure, as I grow weary of the
country or the town, as I avoid a crowd or seek company. —
Here, then, let me have books and iread enough without
dependence ; a bottle of hermitage and a plate of olives for a
select friend ; with an early rose to present a young lady as
an emblem of discretion no less than of beauty."
At Oxford appeared that predilection for paradoxes and
over-curious speculations, which formed afterwards the mark-
ing feature of his literary character. He has been unjustly
contemned as a sciolist ; he was the correspondent of Leib-
nitz, Le Clerc, and Bayle, and was a learned author when
scarcely a man. He first published a Dissertation on the
strange tragical death of Regulus, and proved it a Roman
legend. A greater paradox might have been his projected
speculation on Job, to demonstrate that only the dialogue was
genuine ; the rest being the work of some idle Rabbin, who
had invented a monstrous story to account for the extraordi-
nary afflictions of that model of a divine mind. Speculations
of so much learning and ingenuity are uncommon in a young
man ; but Toland was so unfortunate as to value his own
merits before those who did not care to hear of them.
Hardy vanity was to recompense him, perhaps he thought,
for that want of fortune and connexions, which raised duller
spirits above him. Vain, loquacious, inconsiderate, and
daring, he assumed the dictatorship of a coffee-house, and
obtained easy conquests, which he mistook for glorious ones,
over the graver fellows, who had for many a year awfully
petrified their own colleges. He gave more violent off'ence
by his new opinions on religion. An anonymous person
addressed two letters to this new Heresiarch, solemn and
monitory.* Toland's answer is as honourable as that of his
monitor's. This passage is forcibly conceived : —
* These letters will interest every religious person ; they may be found
in Tolaud's posthumous works, vol. ii. p. 295.
158 Calamities of Authors.
" To what purpose should I study here or elsewhere, were I
an atheist or deist, for one of the two you take me to be ?
What a condition to mention virtue, if I believed there was
no God, or one so impotent that could not, or so malicious
that would not, reveal himself! Nay, though I granted a
Deity, yet, if nothing of me subsisted after death, what laws
could bind, what incentives could move me to common
honesty ? Annihilation would be a sanctuary for all my sins,
and put an end to my crimes with myself. Believe me I am
not so indifferent to the evils of the present life, but, without
the expectation of a better, I should soon suspend the
mechanism of mj body, and resolve into inconscious atoms."
This early moment of his life proved to be its crisis, and
the first step he took decided his after-progress. His first
great work of " Christianity not Mysterious," produced im-
mense consequences. Toland persevered in denying that it was
designed as any attack on Christianity, but only on those sub-
tractions, additions, and other alterations, which have corrupted
that pure institution. The work, at least, like its title, is " Mys-
terious."* Toland passed over to Ireland, but his book having
got there before him, the author beheld himself anathema-
tized ; the pulpits thundered, and it was dangerous to be seen
conversing with him. A jury who confessed they could not
comprehend a page of his book, condemned it to be burned.
Toland now felt a tenderness for his person ; and the humane
Molyneux, the friend of Locke, while he censures the impru-
dent vanity of our author, gladly witnessed the flight of " the
poor gentleman." But South, indignant at our English
moderation in his own controversy with Sherlock on some doc-
trinal points of the Trinity, congratulates the Archbishop of
Dublin on the Irish persecution ; and equally witty and into-
lerant, he writes on Toland, " Your Parliament presently sent
him packing, and without the help of a fagot y soon made the
kingdom too hot for him."
* Toland pretends to prove that "there is nothing in the Christian
Religion, not only which is contrary to reason, but even which is above it."
— He made use of some arguments {says Le Clerc) that were drawn from
Locke's Treatise on the Human Understanding. I have seen in MS. a
finished treatise by Locke on Religion, addressed to Lady Shaftesbury ;
Locke gives it as a translation from the French. I regret my account is
so imperfect ; but the possessor may, perhaps, be induced to give it to the
public. The French philosophers have drawn their first waters from
English authors ; and Toland, Tindale, and Woolston, with Shaftesbury,
Bolingbroke, and Locke, were among their earliest acauisitions.
Genius and Erudition the Victims of Vanity, 159
Toland was accused of an intention to found a sect, a« South
calls them, of " Mahometan-Christians." Many were stig-
matised as Tolandists ; but the disciples of a man who never
procured for their prophet a bit of dinner or a new wig, for he
was frequently wanting both, were not to be feared as enthu-
siasts. The persecution from the church only rankled in the
breast of Toland, and excited unextinguishable revenge.
He now breathed awhile from the bonfire of theology ; and
our Janus turned his political face. He edited Milton's volu-
minous politics, and Harrington's fantastical " Oceana," and,
as his " Christianity not Mysterious" had stamped his reli-
gion with something worse than heresy, so in politics he was
branded as a Commonwealth' s-man. Toland had evidently
strong nerves ; for him opposition produced controversy,
which he loved, and controversy produced books, by which he
lived.
But let it not be imagined that Toland affected to be consi-
dered as no Christian, or avowed himself as a Republican.
" Civil and religious toleration" (he says) "have been the two
main objects of all my writings." He declares himself to be
only a primitive Christian, and a pure Whig. But an author
must not be permitted to understand himself so much more
clearly than he has enabled his readers to do. His mysterious
conduct may be detected in his want of moral integrity.
He had the art of explaining away his own words, as in his
first controversy about the word mystery in religion, and he
exults in his artifice ; for, in a letter, where he is soliciting the
minister for employment, he says : — " The church is much
exasperated against me ; yet as that is the heaviest article, so
it is undoubtedly the easiest conquered, and I know tJie infal-
lible method of doing itT And, in a letter to the Archbishop
of Canterbury, he promises to reform Ms religion to that pre-
late's liking ! He took the sacrament as an opening for the
negotiation.
What can be more explicit than his recantation at the close
of his Vindicius Liherius ? After telling us that he had
withdrawn from sale, after the second edition, his " ' Chris-
tianity not Mysterious,' when I perceived what real or pre-
tended offence it had given," he concludes thus : — " Being
now arrived to years that will not wholly excuse inconsiderate-
ness in resolving, or precipitance in acting, I firmly hope that
my 'persuasion and practice wiU show me to he a true Chris-
tian ; that my due conformity to the public worship may
160 Calamities of Authors.
prove me to be a good ChwcJiman ; and that my untainted
loyalty to King William will argue me to be a staunch Com-
monwealth's-man. That I shall continue all my life a friend
to religion, an enemy to superstition, a supporter of good
kings, and a deposer of tyrants."
Observe, this Vindicius Liherius was published on his re-
turn from one of his political tours in Germany. His
views were then of a very different nature from those of con-
troversial divinity ; but it was absolutely necessary to allay
the storm the church had raised against him. We begin now
to understand a little better the character of Toland. These
literary adventurers, with heroic pretensions, can practise the
meanest artifices, and shrink themselves into nothing to creep
out of a hole. How does this recantation agree with the
" Nazarenus," and the other theological works which Toland
was publishing all his life ? Posterity only can judge of men's
characters ; it takes in at a glance the whole of a life ; but
contemporaries only view a part, often apparently uncon-
nected and at variance, when in fact it is neither. This
recantation is full of the spirit of Janus Junius Toland.
But we are concerned chiefly with Toland' s literary cha-
racter. He was so confirmed an author, that he never pub-
lished one book without promising another. He refers to
others in MS. ; and some of his most curious works are
posthumous. He was a great artificer of title-pages, covering
them with a promising luxuriance ; and in this way recom-
mended his works to the booksellers. He had an odd taste
for running inscriptions of whimsical crabbed terms ; the gold-
dust of erudition to gild over a title ; such as " Tetradymus,
Hodegus, Clidopharus ;" " Adelsidaemon, or the Unsupersti-
tious." He pretends these affected titles indicated their
several subjects ; but the genius of Toland could descend to
literary quackery.
He had the art of propagating books ; his small Life of
Milton produced several ; besides the complacency he felt in
extracting long passages from Milton against the bishops.
In this Life, his attack on the authenticity of the Eikon Basi' .
like of Charles I. branched into another on supposititious
writings ; and this included the spurious gospels. Associa-
tion of ideas is a nursing mother to the fertility of authorship.
The spurious gospels opened a fresh theological campaign,
and produced his " Amyntor." There was no end in pro-
voking an author, who, in writing the life of a poet, could
Genius and E7'udition the Victims of Vanity. 161
contrive to put the authenticity of the Testament to the
proof.
Amid his philosophical labours, his vanity induced him to
seize on all temporary topics to which his facility and inge-
nuity gave currency. The choice of his subjects forms an
amusing catalogue ; for he had "Remarks" and "Projects"
as fast as events were passing. He wrote on the " Art of
Governing by Parties," on " Anglia Liberia," "Reasons for
Naturalising the Jews," on "The Art of Canvassing at Elec-
tions," " On raising a National Bank without Capital,"
" The State Anatomy," " Dunkirk or Dover," &c. &c.
These, and many like these, set off with catching titles,
proved to the author that a man of genius may be capable of
writing on all topics at all times, and make the country his
debtor without benefiting his own creditors.*
There was a moment in Toland's life when he felt, or
thought he felt, fortune in his grasp. He was then floating
on the ideal waves of the South Sea bubble. The poor author,
elated with a notion that he was rich enough to print at his
own cost, dispersed copies of his absurd " Pantheisticon."
He describes a society of Pantheists, who worship the uni-
verse as God ; a mystery much greater than those he attacked
in Christianity. Their prayers are passages from Cicero and
Seneca, and they chant long poems instead of psalms ; so that
in their zeal they endured a little tediousness. The next
objectionable circumstance in this wild ebullition of philoso-
phical wantonness is the apparent burlesque of some liturgies ;
and a wag having inserted in some copies an impious prayer to
Bacchus, Toland suffered for the folly of others as well as his
own.f With the South Sea bubble vanished Toland's desire
* In examining the original papers of Toland, whick are preserved, I
found some of his agreements with booksellers. For his description of
Epsom he was to receive only four guineas in case 1000 were sold. He
received ten guineas for his pamphlet on Naturalising the Jews, and ten
guineas more in case Bernard Lintott sold 2000. The words of this
agreement run thus : ' ' Whenever Mr. Toland calls for ten guineas, after
the first of February next, I promise to pay them, if I cannot show that
200 of the copies remain unsold." What a sublime person is an author !
What a misery is authorship ! The great philosopher who creates systems
that are to alter the face of his country, must stand at the counter to count
out 200 unsold copies !
f Des Maiseaux frees Toland from this calumny, and hints at his own
personal knowledge of the author — but he does not know what a foreign
writer authenticates, that this blasphemous address to Bacchus is a parody
of a prayer in the Roman ritual, written two centuries before by a very
proper society of Pantheists, a club of drunkards !
M
102 Calamities of Authors.
of printing books at his own risk ; and thus relieved the
world from the weight of more Pantlieisticons !
With all this bustle of authorship, amidst temporary pub-
lications which required such prompt ingenuity, and elaborate
works which matured the fruits of early studies, Toland was
still not a sedentary writer. I find that he often travelled on
the continent ; but how could a guinealess author so easily
transport himself from Flanders to Germany, and appear at
home in the courts of Berlin, Dresden, and Hanover ? Per-
haps we may discover a concealed feature in the character of
our ambiguous philosopher.
In the only Life we have of Toland, by Des Maiseaux, pre-
fixed to his posthumous works, he tells us, that Toland was
at the court of Berlin, but " an incident, too ludicrous to he
mentioned, obliged him to leave that place sooner than he
expected." Here is an incident in a narrative clearly marked
out, but never to be supplied ! Whatever this incident was,
it had this important result, that it sent Toland away in
haste ; but why was he there ? Our chronological biographer,*
"good easy man," suspects nothing more extraordinary when
he tells us Toland was at Berlin or Hanover, than when he
finds him at Epsom ; imagines Toland only went to the Elec-
toral Princess Sophia, and the Queen of Prussia, who were
"ladies of sublime genius," to entertain them by vexing some
grave German divines, with philosophical conferences, and
paradoxical conundrums ; all the ravings of Toland's idleness. f
This secret history of Toland can only be picked out by
fine threads. He professed to be a literary character — he
had opened a periodical " literary correspondence," as he
terms it, with Prince Eugene ; such as we have witnessed
in our days by Grimm and La Harpe, addressed to some
northern princes. He was a favourite with the Electoral
* Warburton has well described Des Maiseaux : "All the Life-writer?
we have had are, indeed, strange insipid creatures. The verbose tasteless
Frenchman seems to lay it down as a principle that every life must be a
book, and what is worse, it proves a book without a life ; for what do we
know of Boileau, after all his tedious stuff?"
+ One of these philosophical conferences has been preserved by Beausobre,
who was indeed the party concerned. He inserted it in the "Bibliotheque
Germanique," a curious literary journal, in 50 volumes, written by
L'Enfant, Beausobre, and Formey. It is very copious, and very curious,
and is presei'ved in the General Dictionary, art. Toland. The parties,
after a warm contest, were very wisely interrupted by the Queen, when
she discovered they had exhausted their learning, and were beginning to
rail at each other.
{(university I
GenmS^nWSfudition the Victims oj Vanity, 163
Princess Sophia and the Queen of Prussia, to whom he
addressed his " Letters to Serena." Was he a poHtical
agent ? Yet how was it that Toland was often driven home
by distressed circumstances ? He seems not to have been
a practical politician, for he managed his own affairs very ill.
Was the political intriguer rather a suspected than a confi-
dential servant of all his masters and mistresses ? for it is
evident no one cared for him! The absence of moral in-
tegrity was probably never disguised by the loquacious vanity
of this literary adventurer.
In his posthumous works are several " Memorials" for the
Earl of Oxford, which throw a new light over a union of
political espionage with the literary chara(;ter, which finally
concluded in producing that extraordinary one which the
political imagination of Toland created in all the obscurity
and heat of his reveries.
In one of these " Memorials," forcibly written and full of
curiosity, Toland remonstrates with the minister for his
marked neglect of him ; opens the scheme of a political tour,
where, like Guthrie, he would be content with his quarterage.
He defines his character; for the independent Whig affects
to spurn at the office, though he might not shrink at the
duties of a spy.
" Whether such a person, sir, who is neither minister nor
spy, and as a lover of learning will he welcome everiiwher-e,
may not prove of extraordinary use to my Lord Treasurer, as
well as to his predecessor Burleigh, who employed such, I
leave his lordship and you to consider."
Still this character, whatever title may designate it, is
inferior in dignity and importance to that which Toland
afterwards projected, and which portrays him where his life-
writer has not given a touch from his brush ; it is a political
curiosity.
" I laid an honester scheme of serving my country, j^our
lordship, and myself; for, seeing it was neither convenient for
you, nor a thing at all desired by me, that I should appear
in any puhlic post, I sincerely proposed, as occasions should
offer, to communicate to your lordship my observations on
the temper of the ministry, the dispositions of the people, the
condition of our enemies or allies abroad, and what I might
think most expedient in every eonjuncture ; which advice
you were to follow in whole, or in part, or not at all, as your
own superior wisdom should direct. My general acquaint-
m2
164 Calamities of Authors.
ance, the several languages I speak, the experience I have
acquired in foreign affairs, and being engaged in no interest
at home, besides that of the public, should qualify me in some
measure for this province. All wise ministers haye ever
HAD. SUCH PRIVATE MONITORS. As much as I thought my-
self fit, or was thought so by others, for such general obser-
vations, so much have I ever abhorred, my lord, those par-
ticular observers we call Spies ; but I despise the calumny
no less than I detest the thing. Of such general observa-
tions, you should have perused a far greater number than I
thought fit to present hitherto, had I discovered, by due
effects, that they were acceptable from me; for they must
unavoidably be received from somebody, unless a minister
were omniscient — yet I soon had good reason to believe I
was not designed for the man, whatever the original sin
could be that made me incapable of such a trust, and which
I now begin to suspect. Without direct answers to my pro-
posals, how could 1 know whether I helped my friends else-
w^here, or betrayed them contrary to my intentions! and
accordingly I have for some time been very cautious and
reserved. But if your lordship will enter into any measures
with me to procure the good of my country, I shall be more
ready to se7've your lordship in this, or in some becoming
capacity, than any other minister. They who confided to
my management affairs of a higher nature have found me
exact as well as secret. My impenetrable negociation at
Vienna (hid under the pretence of curiosity) was not only
applauded by the prince that employed me, but also propor-
tionably rewarded. And here, my lord, give me leave to say
that I have found England miserably served abroad since
this change; and our ministers at home are sometimes as
great strangers to the genius as to the persons of those with
whom they have to do. At you have placed the most
unacceptable man in the world — one that lived in a scan-
dalous misunderstanding with the minister of the States at
another court — ^one that has been the laughing-stock of all
courts, for his senseless haughtiness and most ridiculous airs
— and one that can never judge aright, unless by accident, in
anything."
The discarded, or the suspected private monitor of the
3Iinister warms into the tenderest language of political
amour, and mourns their rupture but as the quarrels of
lovers.
Genius and Erudition the Victims of Vanity. 165
" T cannot, from all these considerations, but in the nature
of a lover, complain of your present neglect, and be solicitous
for your future care." And again, " I have made use of the
simile of a lover, and as such, indeed, I thought fit, once for
all, to come to a thorough explanation, resolved, if my affec-
tion be not killed by your unkindness, to become indissolubly
yours."
Such is the nice artifice which colours, with a pretended
love of his country, the sordidness of the political intriguer,
giving clean names to filthy things. But this view of the
political face of our Janus is not complete till we discover the
levity he could carry into politics when not disguised by more
pompous pretensions. I shall give two extracts from letters
composed in a different spirit.
" I am bound for Germany, though first for Flanders, and
next for Holland. I believe I shall be pretty well accommo-
dated for this voyage, which I expect will be very short.
Lord ! how near was my old woman being a queen ! and your
humble servant being at his ease.''^
His old woman was the Electoral Princess Sophia ; and Ms
ease is what patriots distinguish as the love of their country !
Again —
" The October Club,* if rightly managed, will be rare stuff
to worh the ends of any party. I sent such an account of
these wights to an old gentlewoman of my acquaintance, as in
the midst of fears (the change of ministrv) will make her
laugh."
After all his voluminous literature, and his refined politics,
Toland lived and died the life of an Author by Profession, in
an obscure lodging at a country carpenter's, in great distress.
He had still one patron left, who was himself poor, Lord
Moles worth, who promised him, if he lived,
" Bare necessaries. These are but cold comfort to a man
of your spirit and desert ; but 'tis all I dare promise ! 'Tis
an ungrateful age, and we must bear with it the best we may
till we can mend it."
And his lordship tells of his unsuccessful application to
some Whig lord for Toland ; and concludes,
* A political society which obtained its name from the malt liquors con-
sumed at its meetings, and which was popularly termed October from the
month when it was usually brewed. This club advocated the claims of
the House of Hanover, and may have originated the Mughouses noted
in p. 32.— Ed.
166 Calamities of Authors,
" 'TIs a sad monster of a man, and not worthy of further
notice."
I have observed that Toland had strong nerves ; he neither
feared controversies, nor that which closes all. Having
examined his manuscripts, I can sketch a minute picture of
the last days of our " author by profession." At the car-
penter's lodgings he drew up a list of all his books — they
were piled on four chairs, to the amount of 155 — most of
them works which evince the most erudite studies ; and as
Toland's learning has been very lightly esteemed, it may be
worth notice that some of his MSS. were transcribed in
Greek.* To this list he adds — " I need not recite those in
the closet with the unbound books and pamphlets ; nor my
trunk, wherein are all my papers and MSS." I perceive he
circulated his MSS. among his friends, for there is a list by
him as he lent them, among which are ladies as well as
gentlemen, esprits forts !
Never has author died more in character than Toland ; he
may be said to have died with a busy pen in his hand.
Having suffered from an unskilful physician, he avenged him-
self in his own way ; for there was found on his table an
" Essay on Physic without Physicians." The dying patriot-
trader was also writing a preface for a political pamphlet on
the danger of mercenary Parliaments ; and the philosopher
* I subjoin, for the gratification of the curious, the titles of a few of
these books. "Spanhemii Opera;" " Clerici Pentateuchus ;" * ' Constantini
Lexicon Graeco-Latinum ;" " Fabricii Codex ApocryphusVet. et Nov, Test, ;"
"Synesius de Regno;" " Historia Imaginura Coelestium Gosselini," 16
volumes ; "Caryophili Dissertationes ;" " Vonde Hardt Ephemerides Phi-
lologicse ;" ** Trismegisti Opera ;" "Recoldus, et alia Mahomedica ;" all the
"Works of Buxtorf ; " Salviani Opera ;" " Reland de Relig. Mahomedica ;"
"GalliOpuscula Mythologica ;" "Apollodori Bibliotheca ;" "Palingenius;"
" Apuleius ;" and every classical author of antiquity. As he was then em-
ployed in his curious history of the Druids, of which only a specimen is
preserved, we may trace his researches in the following books : ** Luydii
Archa3oIogia Britannica ;" "Old Irish Testament," &c. ; "Maccurtin's
History of Ireland ;" " O'Flaherty's Ogygia ;" '* Epistolarum Hibemica-
rum ;" " Usher's Religion of the ancient Irish ;" "Brand's Isles of Orkney
and Zetland ;" *' Pezron's Antiquites des Celtes."
There are some singular papers among these fragments. One title of a
work is *' Priesthood without Priestcraft ; or Superstition distinguished
from Religion, Dominion from Order, and Bigotry from Reason, in the most
principal Controversies about Church government, which at present divide
and deform Christianity." He has composed "A Psalm before Sermon in
praise of Asinity." There are other singular titles and works in the mass
of his papers.
Genius and Erudition the Victims of Vanity. 167
was composing his own epitaph — one more proof of the ruling
passion predominating in death ; but why should a Pantheist
be solicitous to perpetuate his genius and his fame! I
shall transcribe a few lines ; surely they are no evidence of
Atheism !
Omnium Literarum excultor,
ac linguarum plus decern sciens ;
Veritatis propugnator,
Libertatis assertor;
nullus autem sectator aut cliens,
nee minis, nee malis est inflexus,
quin quam elegit, viam perageret ;
utili honestum anteferens.
Spiritus cum sethereo patre,
d. quo prodiit olim, conjungitur ;
corpus item, Naturae cedens,
in materno gremio reponitui'.
Ipse vero seternum est resurrecturus,
at idem futurus Tolandus nunquam.*
One would have imagined that the writer of his own
panegyrical epitaph would have been careful to have trans-
mitted to posterity a copy of his features ; but I know of no
portrait of Toland. His patrons seem never to have been
generous, nor his disciples grateful ; they mortified rather
than indulged the egotism of his genius. There appeared,
indeed, an elegy, shortly after the death of Toland, so inge-
niously contrived, that it is not clear whether he is eulogised
or ridiculed. Amid its solemnity these lines betray the
sneer. " Has," exclaimed the eulogist of the ambiguous
philosopher,
Eacli jarring element gone angry home ?
And Master Toland a Non-ens become?
Locke, with all the prescient sagacity of that clear un-
* A lover of all literature,
and knowing more than ten languages ;
a champion for truth, t
an assertor of liberty,
but the follower or dependant of no man ;
nor could menaces nor fortune bend him ;
the way he had chosen he pursued,
preferring honesty to his interest.
His spirit is joined with its ethereal father
from whom it originally proceeded ;
his body likewise, yielding to Nature,
is again laid in the lap of its mother :
but he is about to rise again in eternity,
yet never to be the same Toland more.
168 Calamities of Authors.
derstanding which penetrated under the secret folds of the
human heart, anticipated the life of Toland at its commence-
ment. He admired the genius of the man ; but, while he
valued his parts and learning, he dreaded their result. In a
letter I find these passages, which were then so prophetic,
and are now so instructive : —
" If his exceeding great value of himself do not deprive
the world of that usefulness that his parts, if rightly con-
ducted, might be of, I shall be very glad. — The hopes young
men give of what use they will make of their parts is, to
me, the encouragement of being concerned for them ; but, if
vanity increases with age,. I always fear whither it will lecul
a man.^^
GENIUS THE DUPE OF ITS PASSIONS.
Pope said that Steele, though he led a careless and vicious
life, had nevertheless a love and reverence for virtue. The
life of Steele was not that of a retired scholar ; hence his
moral character becomes more instructive. He was one of
those whose hearts are the dupes of their imaginations,
and who are hurried through life by the most despotic voli-
tion. He always preferred his caprices to his interests ; or,
according to his own notion, very ingenious, but not a little
absurd, " he was always of the humour of prefei^'ing the
state of his mind to that of his fortune." The result of this
principle of moral conduct was, that a man of the most ad-
mirable abilities was perpetually acting like a fool, and, with
a warm attachment to virtue, was the frailest of human
•beings.
In the first act of his life we find the seed that developed
itself in the succeeding ones. His uncle could not endure a
hero for his heir : but Steele had seen a marching regiment ;
a sufficient reason with him to enlist as a private in the
horse-guards : cocking his hat, and putting on a broad-sword,
jack-boots, and shoulder-belt, with the most generous feelings
he forfeited a very good estate. — At length Ensign Steele's
frank temper and wit conciliated esteem, and extorted admi-
ration, and the ensign became a favourite leader in all the
dissipations of the town. All these were the ebullitions of
genius, which had not yet received a legitimate direction.
Amid these orgies, however, it was often pensive, and forming
Genius the Dupe of its Passions. 169
itself ; for it was in the height of these irregularities that
Steele composed his " Christian Hero," a moral and religious
treatise, which the contritions of every morning dictated, and
to which the disorders of every evening added another peni-
tential page. Perhaps the genius of Steele was never so
ardent and so pure as at this period ; and in his elegant letter
to his commander, the celebrated Lord Cutts, he gives an in-
teresting account of the origin of this production, which
none but one deeply imbued with its feelings could have so
forcibly described.
" Tower Guard, March 23, 1701.
" My Lokd, — The address of the following papers is so very
much due to your lordship, that they are but a mere report of
what has passed upon my guard to ray commander ; for they
were writ upon duty, when the mind was perfectly disengaged,
and at leisure, in the silent watch of the night, to run over
the busy dream of the day ; and the vigilance which obliges
us to suppose an enemy always near us, has awakened a sense
that there is a restless and subtle one which constantly at-
tends our steps, and meditates our ruin."*
To this solemn and monitory work he prefixed his name,
from this honourable motive, that it might serve as " a
standing testimony against himself, and make him ashamed
of understanding, and seeming to feel what was virtuous,
and living so quite contrary a life." Do we not think that
no one less than a saint is speaking to us ? And yet he is
still nothing more than Ensign Steele ! He tells us that this
grave work made him considered, who had been no unde-
lightful companion, as a disagreeable fellow — and " The
Christian Hero," by his own words, appears to have fought
off several fool-hardy geniuses who were for " trying their
valour on him," supposing a saint was necessarily a poltroon.
Thus " The Christian Hero," finding himself shghted by his
loose companions, sat down and composed a most laughable
comedy, "The Funeral;" and with all the frankness of a
man who cares not to hide his motives, he tells us, that after
his religious work he wrote the comedy because "nothing
can make the town so fond of a man as a successful play."t
* Mr. Nichols's "Epistolary Correspondence of Sir Richard Steele,"
vol. i. p. 77.
+ Steele has given a delightful piece of selfhiography towards the end
of his "Apology for Himself and his Writings," p. 80, 4to.
170 Calamities of Authors.
The historian who had to record such strange events, follow-
ing close on each other, as an author publishing a book of
piety, and then a farce, could never have discovered the secret
motive of the versatile writer, had not that writer possessed
the most honest frankness.
Steele was now at once a man of the town and its censor,
and wrote lively essays on the follies of the day in an enor-
mous black peruke which cost him fifty guineas ! He built
an elegant villa, but, as he was always inculcating economy,
he dates from " The Flovel." He detected the fallac}'- of the
South Sea scheme, while he himself invented projects, neither
inferior in magnificence nor in misery. He even turned
alchemist, and wanted to coin gold, merely to distribute it.
The most striking incident in the life of this man of voli-
tion, was his sudden marriage with a young lady who at-
tended his first wife's funeral — struck by her angelical
beauty, if we trust to his raptures. Yet this sage, who
would have written so well on the choice of a wife, united
himself to a character the most uncongenial to his own ; cold,
reserved, and most anxiously prudent in her attention to
money, she was of a temper which every day grew worse by
the perpetual imprudence and thoughtlessness of his own.
He calls her " Prue" in fondness and reproach ; she was
Prudery itself! His adoration was permanent, and so were
his complaints ; and they never parted but with bickerings —
yet he could not suffer her absence, for he was writing to her
three or four passionate notes in a day, which are dated from
his office, or his bookseller's, or from some friend's house — he
has risen in the midst of dinner to despatch a line to
" Prue," to assure her of his affection since noon.* — Her
presence or her absence was equally painful to him.
* In the *' Epistolary Correspondence of Sir Richard Steele," edition of
1809, are preserved these extraordinary love-despatches ; "Prue" used poor
Steele at times very ill ; indeed Steele seems to have conceived that his
warm affections were all she required, for Lady Steele was usually left
whole days in solitude, and frequently in want of a guinea, when Steele
could not raise one. He, however, sometimes remonstrates with her very
feelingly. The following note is an instance : —
" Dear Wife, — I have been in great pain of body and mind since I
came out. You are extremely cruel to a generous nature, which has a ten-
derness for you that renders your least dishumour insupportably afflicting.
After short starts of passion, not to be inclined to reconciliation, is what is ,
against all rules of Christianity and justice. When I come home, I beg to
be kindly received ; or this will have as ill an effect upon my fortune, as on
my mind and body."
Genius the Dupe of its Passions. 171
Yet Steele, gifted at all times with the susceptibility of
genius, was exercising the finest feelings of the heart ; the
same generosity of temper which deluded his judgment, and
invigorated his passions, rendered him a tender and pathetic
dramatist ; a most fertile essayist ; a patriot without private
views ; an enemy whose resentment died away in raillery ;
and a friend, who could warmly press the hand that chas-
tised him. Whether in administration, or expelled the
House ; whether affluent, or flying from his creditors ; in the
fulness of his heart he, perhaps, secured his own happiness,
and lived on, like some wits, extempore. But such men, with
all their virtues and all their genius, live only for themselves.
Steele, in the waste of his splendid talents, had raised
sudden enmities and transient friendships. The world uses
such men as Eastern travellers do fountains ; they drink their
waters, and when their thirst is appeased, turn their backs on
them. Steele lived to be forgotten. He opened his career
with folly ; he hurried through it in a tumult of existence ;
and he closed it by an involuntary exile, amid the wrecks of
his fortune and his mind.
Steele, in one of his numerous periodical works, the twelfth
number of the " Theatre," has drawn an exquisite contrast
In a postscript to another billet, he thus ' ' sneers at Lady Steele's exces-
sive attention to money": —
** Your man Sam owes me threepence, which must be deducted in the
account between you and me ; therefore, ptay take care to get it in, or
stop it."
Such despatches as the followiDg were sent off three or four times in a
day : —
*' I beg of you not to be impatient, though it be an hour before you see
"Your obliged husband, R. Steele."
** Dear Prue, — Don't be displeased that I do not come home till eleven
o'clock. Yours, ever."
"Dear Prpe, — Forgive me dining abroad, and let Will carry the papers
to Buckley's. Your fond devoted K. S."
"Dear Prue, — I am very sleepy and tired, but could not think of
closing my eyes till I had told you I am, dearest creature, your most affec-
tionate, faithful husband, E,. Steele.
" From the Press, One in the morning."
It would seem by the following note that this hourly account of himself
was in consequence of the connubial mandate of his fair despot : —
" Dear Prue, — It is a strange thing, because you are handsome, that
you will not behave yourself with the obedience that people of worse
features do — but that I must be always giving you an account of every
trifle and minute of my time. I send this to tell you I am waiting to be
sent for again when my Lord Wharton is stirring."
1 72 Calamities of Authors.
between himself and his friend Addison : it is a cabinet pic-
ture. Steele's careful pieces, when warm with his subject,
had a higher spirit, a richer flavour, than the equable softness
of Addison, who is only beautiful.
" There never was a more strict friendship than between
these gentlemen ; -nor had the}^ ever any difference but what"
proceeded from their different way of pursuing the same
thing : the one, with patience, foresight, and temperate ad-
dress, always waited and stemmed the torrent ; while the
other often plunged himself into it, and was as often taken
out by the temper of him who stood weeping on the bank
for his safety, whom he could not dissuade from leaping into
it. Thus these two men lived for some years last past, shun-
ning each other, but still preserving the most passionate con-
cern for their mutual welfare. But when they met, they were
as unreserved as boys ; and talked of the greatest affairs, upon
which they saw where they differed, without pressing (what
they knew impossible) to convert each other."
If Steele had the honour of the invention of those periodical
papers which first enlightened the national genius by their
popular instruction, he is himself a remarkable example of the
moral and the literary character perpetually contending in
the man of volition.
LITERARY DISAPPOINTMENTS DISORDERING THE INTELLECT.
LELAND AND COLLINS.
This awful calamity may be traced in the fate of Lelais'd
and Collins : the one exhausted the finer faculties of his
mind in the grandest views, and sunk under gigantic tasks ;
the other enthusiast sacrificed his reason and his happiness
to his imagination.
Leland, the father of our antiquaries, was an accomplished
scholar, and his ample mind had embraced the languages of
antiquity, those of his own age, and the ancient ones of his
own country : thus he held all human learning by its three
vast chains. He travelled abroad ; and he cultivated poetry
with the ardour he could even feel for the acquisition of
words. On his return home, among other royal favoiu-s, he
was appointed by Henry VIII. the king's antiquary, a title
honourably created for Leland ; for with him it became ex-
tinct. By this office he was empowered to seai'ch after
Disappointments Disordering the Intellect. 173
English antiquities ; to review the Hbraries of all the reli-
gious institutions, and to bring the records of antiquity " out
of deadly darkness into lively light." This extensive power
fed a passion already formed by the study of our old rude
historians ; his elegant taste perceived that they wanted those
graces which he could lend them.
Six years were occupied, by uninterrupted travel and study,
to survey our national antiquities ; to note down everything
observable for the history of the country and the honour of
the nation. What a magnificent view has he sketched of
this learned journey! In search of knowledge, Leland wan-
dered on the sea-coasts and in the midland ; surveyed towns
and cities, and rivers, castles, cathedrals, and monasteries ;
tumuli, coins, and inscriptions ; collected authors ; transcribed
MSS. If antiquarianism pored, genius too meditated in this
sublime industry.
Another six years were devoted to shape and to polish the
immense collections he had amassed. All this untired labour
and continued study were rewarded by Henry VIII, It is
delightful, from its rarity, to record the gratitude of a pa-
tron : Henry was worthy of Leland ; and the genius of the
author was magnificent as that of the monarch who had
created it.
Nor was the gratitude of Leland silent : he seems to have
been in the habit of perpetuating his spontaneous emotions
in elegant Latin verse. Our author has fancifully expressed
his gratitude to the king : —
"Sooner," he says, "shall the seas float without their si-
lent inhabitants ; the thorny hedges cease to hide the birds ;
the oak to spread its boughs ; and Flora to paint the meadows
with flowers ;
Qu^m Bex dive, tuum labatur pectore nostro
^ Nomen, quod studiis portus et aura meis.
Than thou, great King, my bosom cease to hail,
Who o'er my studies breath'st a favouring gale.
Leland was, indeed, alive to the kindness of his royal
patron ; and among his numerous literary projects, was one
of writing a history of all the palaces of Heur}^, in imitation
of Procopius, who described those of the Emperor Justinian.
He had already delighted the royal ear in a beautiful effiision
of fancy and antiquarianism, in his Cygnea Cantio, the Song
of the Swans. The swan of Leland, melodiously floating
174 Calamities of Authors,
down the Thames, from Oxford to Greenwich, chants, as she
passes along, the ancient names and honours of the towns,
the castles, and the villages.
Leland presented his "Strena, or a New Year's Gift," to
the king. — It consists of an account of his studies ; and
sketches, with a fervid and vast imagination, his magnificent
labour, which he had already inscribed with the title De
Antiquitate Britannica, and which was to be divided into as
many books as there were shires. All parts of this address
of the King's Antiquary to the king bear the stamp of his
imagination and his taste. He opens his intention of im-
proving, by the classical graces of composition, the rude
labours of our ancestors ; for,
" Except Truth be delicately clothed in purpure, her written
very tees can scant find a reader."
Our old writers, he tells his sovereign, had, indeed,
" Prom time to time preserved the acts of your prede-
cessors, and the fortunes of your realm, with great diligence,
and no less faith ; would to God with like eloquence!"
An exclamation of fine taste, when taste was }■ et a stranger
in the country. And when he alludes to the knowledge of
British affairs scattered among the Roman, as well as our
own writers, his fervid fancy breaks forth with an image at
once simple and sublime : —
" I trust," says Leland, " so to open the window, that the
light shall be seen so long, that is to say, by the space of a
whole thousand years stopped up, and the old glory of your
Britain to re-flourish through the world."*
And he pathetically concludes —
" Should I live to perform those things that are already
begun, I trust that your realm shall so well be known, once
painted with its native colours, that it shall give place to the
glory of no other region."
The grandeur of this design was a constituent part of the
genius of Leland, but not less, too, was that presaging melan-
choly which even here betrays itself, and even more frequently
in his verses. Everything about Leland was marked by his
* Leland, in his magnificent plan, included several curious departments.
Jealous of the literary glory of the Italians, whom he compares to the
Greeks for accounting all nations barbarous and unlettered, he had composed
four books "De Viris Illustribus," on English Authors, to force them to
acknowledge the illustrious genius, and the great men of Britain. Three
books " De Nobilitate Britannica." were to be *'as an ornament and a right
comely garland."
Disappointments Disordering the Intellect. 175
own greatness ; his countr}^ and his countrymen were ever
present ; and, by the excitement of his feehngs, even his
humbler pursuits were elevated into patriotism. Henry died
the year after he received the " New Year's Gift," From that
moment, in losing the greatest patron for the greatest work,
Leland appears to have felt the staff which he had used to turn
at pleasure for his stay, break in his hands.
He had new patrons to court, while engaged in labours for
which a single life had been too short. The melancholy that
cherishes genius may also destroy it. Leland, brooding over
his voluminous labours, seemed to love and to dread them ;
sometimes to pursue them with rapture, and sometimes to
shrink from them with despair. His generous temper had
once shot forwards to posterity ; but he now calms his strug-
gling hopes and doubts, and confines his literary ambition to
his own country and his own age.
POSTBRITATIS AMOR DUBIUS.
Posteritatis amor mihi perblanditur, et ultro
Prcmittit libris secula multa meis.
At non tarn facile est oculato imponere, nosco
Quam non sim tali dignus honore frui.
Grsecia magniloquos vates desiderat ipsa,
Eoma suos etiam disperiisse dolet.
Exeraplis quum sim claris edoctus ab istis,
Qui sperem Musas vivere posse meas ?
Certe mi sat erit prassenti scribere sseclo,
Auribus et patriae complacuisse mese.
IMITATED.
Posterity, thy soothing love I feel,
That o'er my volumes many an age may steal :
But hard it is the well-clear'd eye to cheat
With honours undeserved, too fond deceit !
Greece, greatly eloquent, and full of fame,
Sighs for the want of many a perish'd name;
And Rome o'er her illustrious children mourns,
Their fame departing with their mouldering urns.
How can I hope, by such examples shown,
More than a transient day, a passing sun ?
Enough for me to win the present age.
And please a brother with a brother's page.
By other verses, addressed to Cranmer, it would appear
that Leland was experiencing anxieties to which he had not
been accustomed, — and one may suspect, by the opening image
of his " Supellex," that his pension was irregular, and that he
began, as authors do in these hard cases, to value " the fur-
niture" of his mind above that of his house.
176 Calamities of Authors.
AD THOMAM CRANMERUM, CANT. ARCHIEPISOOP,
Est congesta mihi domi Supellex
Ingens, aurea, nobilis, venusta,
Qu^ totus studeo Britanniarum
Vero reddere gloriam nitori.
Sed Fortuna iiieis noverca cceptis
Jam felicibus invidet maligna.
Quare, ne pereant brevi vel hor4
Multarum mihi noctium labores
Omnes, et patriae simul decora
Ornamenta cadant, &c. &c.
The furnitures that fill my house,
The vast and beautiful disclose,
All noble, and the store is gold ;
Our ancient glory here unroll'd.
But fortune checks my daring claim,
A step-mother severe to fame.
A smile malignantly she throws
Just at the story's prosperous close.
And thus must the unfinished, tale,
And all my many vigils fail,
And must my country's honour fall ;
In one brief hour must perish all ?
But, conscious of the greatness of his labours, he would
obtain the favour of the Archbishop, by promising a share of
his own fame —
pretium sequetur amplum —
Sic nomen tibi litterse elegantes
Recte perpetuum dabunt, suosque
Partim. vel titulos tibi receptos
Concedet memori Britannus ore :
Sic te posteritas amabit omnis,
Et fama super sethera innotesces.
But take the ample glorious meed,
To letter'd elegance decreed.
When Britain's mindful voice shall bend.
And with her own thy honours blend.
As she from thy kind hands receivea
Her titles drawn on Glory's leaves.
And back reflects them on thy name,
Till time shall love thy mounting fame.
Thus was Leland, like the melancholic, withdrawn entirely
into the world of his own ideas ; his imagination delighting
in reveries, while his industry was exhausting itself in labour.
His manners were not free from haughtiness, — his meagre
Disappointments Disordering the Intellect. 177
and expressive physiognomy indicates the melancholy and the
majesty of his mind ; it was not old age, but the premature
wrinkles of those nightly labours he has himself recorded.
All these characteristics are so strongly marked in the bust
of Leland, that Lavater had triumphed had he studied it.*
Labour had been long felt as voluptuousness by Leland ;
and this is among the Calamities of Literature, and it is so
with all those studies which deeply busy the intellect and the
fancy. There is a poignant delight in study, often subversive
of human happiness. Men of genius, from their ideal state,
drop into the cold formalities of society, to encounter its
evils, its disappointments, its neglect, and perhaps its persecu-
tions. When such minds discover the world will only become
a friend on its own terms, then the cup of their wrath over-
flows ; the learned grow morose, and the witty sarcastic ; but
more indelible emotions in a highly-excited imagination often
produce those delusions, which Darwin calls hallucinations,
and which sometimes terminate in mania. The haughtiness,
the melancholy, and the aspiring genius of Leland, were
tending to a disordered intellect. Incipient insanity is a mote
floating in the understanding, escaping all observation, when
the mind is capable of observing itself, but seems a constituent
part of the mind itself when that is completely covered with
its cloud.
Leland did not reach even the maturity of life, the period
at which his stupendous works were to be executed. He was
seized by frenzy. The causes of his insanity were never
known. The Papists declared he went mad because he had
embraced the new religion; his mahcious rival Polydore Vergil,
because he had promised what he could not perform ; duller
prosaists because his poetical turn had made him conceited.
The grief and melancholy of a fine genius, and perhaps an
irregular pension, his enemies have not noticed.
The ruins of Leland's mind were viewed in his library ;
volumes on volumes stupendously heaped together, and masses
of notes scattered here and there ; all the vestiges of his
genius, and its distraction. His collections were seized on by
honest and dishonest hands ; many were treasured, but some
were stolen. Hearne zealously arranged a series of volumes
* What reason is there to suppose with Granger that his bust, so
admirably engraven by Grignion, is supposititious ? Probably struck by
the premature old age of a man who died in his fortieth year, he condemned
it by its appearance ; but not with the eye of the physiognomist.
N
178 Calamities of Authors.
from the fragments ; but the " Britannia " of Camden, the
"London" of Stovve, and the "Chronicles" of Hohnshed,
are only a few of those public works whose waters silently
ivelled from the spring of Leland's genius ; and that nothing
might be wanting to preserve some relic of that fine imagi-
nation which was always working in his poetic soul, his own
description of his learned journey over the kingdom v:as a
spark, which, falling into the inflammable mind of a poet,
produced the singular and patriotic poem of the "Polyolbion"
of Prayton. Thus the genius of Leland has come to us
diffused through a variety of other men's; and what he
intended to produce it has required many to perform.
A singular inscription, in which Leland speaks of himself,
in the style he was accustomed to use, and which Weever
tells us was afl&xed to his monument, as he had heard by
tradition, was probably a relic snatched from his general
wreck — for it could not with propriety have been composed
after his death.*
Quautum Rhenano debet Germania docto
•Tantum debebit terra Britanna mihi.
lUe suae gentis ritus et nomina prisca
^stivo fecit lucidiora die.
Ipse antiquarum rerum quoque magnus amator
Ornabo patriae lumina clara meae.
Quae cum prodierint niveis inscripta tabellis,
Turn testes nostrse sedulitatis erunt.
IMITATED.
What Germany to leam'd Ehenanus owes.
That for my Britain shall my toil unclose ;
His volumes mark their customs, names, and climes,
And brighten, with a summer's light, old times.
I also, touch' d by the same love, will write.
To ornament my country's splendid light.
Which shall, inscribed on snowy tablets, be
Full many a witness of my industry.
Another example of literary disappointment disordering
the intellect may be contemplated in the fate of the poet
Collins.
Several interesting incidents may be supplied to Johnson's
narrative of the short and obscure life of this poet, who, more
than any other of our martyrs to the lyre, has thrown over all
his images and his thoughts a tenderness of mind, and breathed
a freshness over the pictures of poetry, which the mighty
* Ancient Funerall Monuments, p. 692.
Disappointments Disordering the Intellect. 179
Milton has not exceeded, and the laborious Gray has not
attained. But he immolated happiness, and at length reason,
to his imagination ! The incidents most interesting in the
life of Collins would be those events which elude the ordinary
biographer; that invisible train of emotions which were
gradually passing in his mind; those passions which first
moulded his genius, and which afterwards broke it ! But who
could record the vacillations of a poetic temper, its early
hope and its late despair, its wild gaiety and its settled
frenzy, but the poet himself ? Yet Collins has left behind
no memorial of the wanderings of his alienated mind but the
errors of his life !
At college he published his " Persian Eclogues," as they
were first called, to which, when he thought they were not
distinctly Persian, he gave the more general title of " Oriental."
The publication was attended with no success ; but the first
misfortune a poet meets will rarely deter him from incurring
more. He suddenly quitted the university, and has been
censured for not having consulted his friends when he rashly
resolved to live by the pen. But he had no friends ! His
father had died in embarrassed circumstances ; and Collins
was residing at the university on the stipend allowed him by
his uncle. Colonel Martin, who was abroad. He was indignant
at a repulse he met with at college ; and alive to the name of
author and poet, the ardent and simple youth imagined that
a nobler field of action opened on him in the metropolis than
was presented by the flat uniformity of a collegiate life. To
whatever spot the youthful poet flies, that spot seems Par-
nassus, as applause seems patronage. He hurried to town,
and presented himself before the cousin who paid his small
allowance from his uncle in a fashionable dress with a feather
in his hat. The graver gentleman did not succeed in his
attempt at sending him back, with all the terror of his infor-
mation, that Collins had not a single guinea of his own, and
was dressed in a coat he could never pay for. The young
bard turned from his obdurate cousin as " a dull fellow ;" a
usual phrase with him to describe those who did not think as
he would have them.
That moment was now come, so much desired, and scarcely
yet dreaded, which was to produce those efi'usions of fancy
and learning, for which Collins had prepared himself by pre-
vious studies. About this time Johnson* has given a finer
*' In a letter to Joseph Warton.
n2
180 Calamities of Authors.
picture of the intellectual powers and the literary attainments
of Collins than in the life he afterwards composed. " Collins
was acquainted not only with the learned tongues, but with
the Italian, French, and Spanish languages ; full of hopes and
full of projects, versed in many languages, high in fancy, and
strong in retention." Such was the language of Johnson,
when, warmed by his own imagination, he could write like
Longinus ; at that after-period, when assuming the austerity
of critical discussion for the lives of poets, even in the cold-
ness of his recollections, he describes Collins as " a man of
extensive literature, and of vigorous faculties."
A chasm of several years remains to be filled. He was
projecting works of labour, and creating productions of
taste ; and he has been reproached for irresolution, and even
for indolence. Let us catch his feelings from the facts as they
rise together, and learn whether Collins must endure censure
or excite sympathy.
When he was living loosely about town, he occasionally
wrote many short poems in the house of a friend, who wit-
nesses that he burned as rapidly as he composed. His odes
were purchased by Millar, yet though but a slight pamphlet,
all the interest of that great bookseller could never introduce
them into notice. Not an idle compliment is recorded to have
been sent to the poet. When we now consider that among
these odes was one the most popular in the language, with
some of the most exquisitely poetical, it rem.inds us of the
difficulty a young writer without connexions experiences in
obtaining the public ear ; and of the languor of poetical con-
noisseurs who sometimes suffer poems, that have not yet
grown up to authority, to be buried on the shelf. What the
outraged feelings of the poet were, appeared when some time
afterwards he became rich enough to express them. Having
obtained some fortune by the death of his uncle, he made good
to the publisher the deficiency of the unsold odes, and, in his
haughty resentment at the public taste, consigned the impres-
sion to the flames !
Who shall now paint the feverish and delicate feelings of a
young poet such as Collins, who had twice addressed the
public, and twice had been repulsed ? He whose poetic
temper Johnson has finely painted, at the happy moment
when he felt its influence, as " delighting to rove through the
meadows of enchantment, to gaze on the magnificence of golden
palaces, and repose by the waterfalls of Elysian gardens !'*
Disappointments Disordering the Intellect, 181
Ifc cannot be doubted, and the recorded facts will demon-
strate it, that the poetical disappointments of Collins were
secretly preying on his spirit, and repressing his firmest exer-
tions. With a mind richly stored with literature, and a soul
alive to the impulses of nature and study, he projected a
" History of the Revival of Learning," and a translation of
"Aristotle's Poetics," to be illustrated by a large com-
mentary.
But " his great fault," says Johnson, " was his irresolu^
Hon ; or the frequent calls of immediate necessity broke his
schemes, and suiFered him to pursue no settled purpose." Col-
lins was, however, not idle, though without application ; for,
when reproached with idleness by a friend, he showed in-
stantly several sheets of his version of Aristotle, and many
embryos of some lives he had engaged to compose for the
" Biographia Britannica ;" he never brought either to perfec-
tion ! What then was this ii^esolution but the vacillations
of a mind broken and confounded ? He had exercised too
constantly the highest faculties of fiction, and he had preci-
pitated himself into the dreariness of real life. None but a
poet can conceive, for none but a poet can experience, the
secret wounds inflicted on a mind of romantic fancy and
tenderness of emotion, which has staked its happiness on its
imagination ; for such neglect is felt as ordinary men would
feel the sensation of being let down into a sepulchre, and
buried alive. The mind of Tasso, a brother in fancy to
Collins, became disordered by the opposition of the critics,
but perpetual neglect injures it not less. The Hope of the
ancients was represented holding some flowers, the promise ol
the spring, or some spikes of corn, indicative of approaching
harvest — but the Hope of Collins had scattered its seed, and
they remained buried in the earth.
The oblivion which covered our poet's works appeared to
him eternal, as those works now seem to us immortal. He
had created Hope with deep and enthusiastic feeling ! —
"With eyes so fair —
Whispering promised pleasure,
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ;
And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair !
The few years Collins passed in the metropolis he was
subsisting with or upon his friends ; and, being a pleasing
companion, he obtained many literary acquaintances. It was
at this period that Johnson knew him, and thus describes
183 Calamities of Authors.
him : — " His appearance was decent, and his knowledge con-
siderable ; his views extensive, and his conversation elegant."
He was a constant frequenter at the literary resorts of the
Bedford and Slaughter's ; and Armstrong, Hill, Garrick, and
Eootc, frequently consulted him on their pieces before they
appeared in public. From his intimacy with Garrick he ob-
tained a free admission into the green-room ; and probably it
was at this period, among his other projects, that he planned
several tragedies, which, however, as Johnson observes, " he
only planned." There is a feature in Collins's character
which requires attention. He is represented as a man of
cheerful dispositions ; and it has been my study to detect
only a melanch(5ly, which was preying on the very source of
life itself. ColHns was, indeed, born to charm his friends ;
for fancy and elegance were never absent from his susceptible
mind, rich in its stores, and versatile in its emotions. He
himself indicates his own character, in his address to
"Home:"—
Go ! nor, regardless while these numbers boast
My short-lived bliss, forget my social name.
Johnson has told us of his cheerful dispositions ; and one
who knew him well observes, that " in the green-room he
made diverting observations on the vanity and false conse-
quence of that class of people, and his manner of relating
them to his particular friends was extremely entertaining :"
but the same friend acknowledges that " some letters which
he received from Collins, though chiefly on business, have in
them some flights which strongly mark his character, and for
which reason I have preserved them." We cannot decide of
the temper of a man viewed only in a circle of friends, who
listen to the ebullitions of wit or fancy ; the social warmth
for a moment throws into forgetfulness his secret sorrow.
The most melancholy man is frequently the most delightful
companion, and peculiarly endowed with the talent of sati-
rical playfulness and vivacity of humour.* But what was
* Burton, the author of " The Anatomy of Melancholy," offers a striking
instance. Bishop Kennett, in his curious *' Register and Chronicle," has
I»reserved the following particulars of this author. "In an interval of
vapours he would he extremely pleasant, and raise laughter in any com-
pany. Yet I have heard that nothing at last could make him laugh but
going down to the Bridge-foot at Oxford, and hearing the bargemen scold
and storm and swear at one another ; at which he would set his hands to
his sides, and laugh most profusely j yet in his chamber so mute and mopish,
Disappointments Disordering the Intellect. 183
the true life of Collins, separated from its adventitious cir-
cumstances? It" was a life of want, never chequered by
hope, that was striving to elude its own observation by hur-
rying into some temporary dissipation. But the hours of
melancholy and solitude were sure to return ; these were
marked on the dial of his life, and, when they struck, the gay
and lively Collins, like one of his own enchanted beings, as
surely relapsed into his natural shape. To the perpetual re-
collection of his poetical disappointments are we to attribute
this unsettled state of his mind, and the perplexity of his
studies. To these he was perpetually reverting, which he
showed when after a lapse of several years, he could not rest
till he had burned his ill-fated odes. And what was the
result of his literary life ? He returned to his native city of
Chichester in a state almost of nakedness, destitute, diseased,
and wild in despair, to hide himself in the arms of a sister.
The cloud had long been gathering over his convulsed in-
tellect ; and the fortune he acquired on the death of his
uncle served only for personal indulgences, which rather acce-
lerated his disorder. There were, at times, some awful pauses
in the alienation of his mind — but he had withdrawn it from
study. It was in one of these intervals that Thomas War-
ton told Johnson that when he met Collins travelling, he
took up a book the poet carried with him, from curiosity, to
see what companion a man of letters had chosen — it was an
English Testament. "I have but one book," said Collins,
" but that is the best." This circumstance is recorded on his
tomb.
He join'd pure faith to strong poetic powers,
And in reviving reason's lucid hours,
Sought on one book his troubled mind to rest,
And rightly deem'd the book of God the best.
At Chichester, tradition has preserved some striking and
affecting occurrences of his last days ; he would haunt the
aisles and cloisters of the cathedral, roving days and nights
together, loving their
Dim religious light.
that he was suspected to be/eZo de se." With what a fine strain of poetic
feeling has a modern bard touched this subject ! —
** As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow,
While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below,
. So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile,
Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while."
Moore's.' 'Irish Melodies.
184 Calamities of Authors.
And, when tlie choristers chanted their anthem, the listening
and bewildered poet, carried out of himself by the solemn
strains, and his own too susceptible imagination, moaned and
shrieked, and awoke a sadness and a terror most affecting
amid religious emotions ; their friend, their kinsman, and
their poet, was before them, an awful image of human misery
and ruined genius !
This interesting circumstance is thus alluded to on his
monument : —
Ye walls that echoed to his frantic moan,
(xuard the due record of this grateful stone :
Strangers to him, enamour'd of his lays,
This fond memorial of his talents raise.
A voluntary subscription raised the monument to CoUins.
The genius of Flaxman has thrown out on the eloquent marble
all that fancy would consecrate ; the tomb is itself a poem.
There Collins is represented as sitting in a reclining pos-
ture, during a lucid interval of his afflicting malady, with a
calm and benign aspect, as if seeking refuge from his misfor-
tunes in the consolations of the Gospel, which lie open before
him, whilst his lyre, and " The Ode on the Passions," as a
scroll, are thrown together neglected on the ground. Upon
the pediment on the tablet are placed in relief two female
figures of Love and Pitt, entwined each in the arms of the
other ; the proper emblems of the genius of his poetry.
Langhorne, who gave an edition of Collins's poems with
all the fervour of a votary, made an observation not perfectly
correct : — " It is observable," he says, " that none of his
poems bear the marks of an amorous disposition ; and that
he is one of those few poets who have sailed to Delphi
without touching at Cythera. In the 'Ode to the Pas-
sions,' Love has been omitted." There, indeed. Love does
not form an important personage ; yet, at the close, Love
makes his transient appearance with Joy and Mirth — " a gay
fantastic round."
And, amidst his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
It is certain, however, that Collins considered the amatory
passion as unfriendly to poetic originality ; for he alludes to
the whole race of the Proven9al poets, by accusing them of
only employing
Love, only love, her forceless numbers mean.
Disappointments Disordering the Intellect. 185
Collins affected to slight the urchin ; for he himself had
been once in love, and his wit has preserved the history of
his passion ; he was attached to a young lady who was born
the day before him, and who seems not to have been very
poetically tempered, for she did not return his ardour. On
that occasion he said " that he came into the world a day
after the fair. ^^
Langhorne composed two sonnets, which seem only pre-
served in the " Monthly Review," in which he was a writer, and
where he probably inserted them ; they bear a particular re-
ference to the misfortunes of our poet. In one he represents
Wisdom, in the form of Addison, reclining in " the old and
honoured shade of Magdalen," and thus addressing
The poor shade of Collins, wandering by ;
The tear stood trembling in his gentle eye,
With modest grief reluctant, while he said —
** Sweet bard, belov'd by every muse in vain!
With pow'rs, whose fineness wrought their own decay ;
Ah ! wherefore, thoughtless, didst thou yield the rein
To fancy's will, and chase the meteor ray ?
Ah ! why forget thy own Hyblsean strain.
Peace rules the breast, where Reason rules the day."
The last line is most happily applied ; it is a verse by the
unfortunate bard himself, which heightens the contrast with
his forlorn state ! Langhorne has feelingly painted the fatal
indulgences of such a character as Collins.
Of fancy's too prevailing power beware !
Oft has she bright on life's fair morning shone ;
Oft seated Hope on Reason's sovereign throne,
Then closed the scene, in darkness and despair.
Of all her gifts, of all her powers possest,
Let not her flattery win thy youthful ear, •
Nor vow long faith to such a various guest,
False at the last, tho' now perchance full dear ;
The casual lover with her charms is blest,
But woe to them her magic bands that wear f
The criticism of Johnson on the poetry of Collins, that
" as men are often esteemed who cannot be loved, so the
poetry of Collins may sometimes extort praise when it gives
little pleasure," might almost have been furnished by the lum-
bering pen of old Dennis. But Collins from the poetical
never extorts praise, for it is given spontaneously; he is
much more loved than esteemed, for he does not give little
pleasure. Johnson, too, describes his "lines as of slow
186 Calamities of Authors,
motion, clogged and impeded with clusters of consonants."
Even this verbal criticism, though it appeals to the eye, and
not to the ear, is false criticism, since Collins is certainly the
most musical of poets. How could that lyrist be harsh in
his diction, who almost draws tears from our eyes, while his
melodious lines and picturing epithets are remembered by his
readers ? He is devoured with as much enthusiasm by one
party as he is imperfectly relished by the other.
Johnson has given two characters of this poet ; the one
composed at a period when that great critic was still suscep-
tible of the seduction of the imagination ; but even in this
portrait, though some features of the poet are impressively
drawn, the likeness is incomplete, for there is not even a
slight indication of the chief feature in Collins's genius, his
tenderness and delicacy of emotion, and his fresh and pic-
turesque creative strokes. Nature had denied to Johnson's
robust intellect the perception of these poetic qualities. He
was but a stately ox in the fields of Parnassus, not the animal
of nature. Many years afterwards, during his poetical bio-
graphy, that long Lent of criticism, in which he mortified
our poetical feeling by accommodating his to the populace
of critics — so faint were former recollections, and so imperfect
were even those feelings which once he seemed to have pos-
sessed — that he could then do nothing but write on Collins
with much less warmth than he has written on Blackmore.
Johnson is, indeed, the first of critics, when his powerful logic
investigates objects submitted to reason ; but great sense is
not always combined with delicacy of taste ; and there is in
poetry a province which Aristotle himself may never have
entered.
THE REWARDS OF ORIENTAL STUDENTS.
At a time when oriental studies were in their infancy in this
country, Simon Ocklet, animated by the illustrious example
of Pococke and the laborious diligence of Prideaux, devoted
his life and his fortune to these novel researches, which
necessarily involved both. With that enthusiasm which
the ancient votary experienced, and with that patient suffer-
ing the modern martyr has endured, he pursued, till he accom-
plished, the useful object of his labours. He, perhaps, was
the first who exhibited to us other heroes than those of Eome
The Rewards of Oriental Students. 187
and Greece ; sages as contemplative, and a people more mag-
nificent even than the iron masters of the world. . Among
other oriental productions, his most considerable is " The
History of the Saracens." The first volume appeared in
1708, and the second ten years afterwards. In the preface
to the last volume, the oriental student pathetically counts
over his sorows, and triumphs over his disappointments ; the
most remarkable part is the date of the place from whence
this preface was written — he triumphantly closes his labours
in the confinement of Cambridge Castle for debt !
Ockley, lamenting his small proficiency in the Persian
studies, resolves to attain to them —
" How often have I endeavoured to perfect myself in that
language, but my malignant and envious stars still frustrated
my attempts ; but they shall sooner alter their courses than
extinguish my resolution of quenching that thirst which the
little I have had of it hath already excited."
And he states the deficiencies of his history with the most
natural modesty —
" Had I not been forced to snatch everything that I have,
as it were, out of the fire, our Saracen history should have
been ushered into the world after a different manner," He
is fearful that something would be ascribed to his indolence
or negligence, that " ought more justly to be attributed to
the influence of inexorable necessity, could I have been master
of my own time and circumstances."
Shame on those pretended patrons who, appointing " a
professor of the oriental languages," counteract the purpose
of the professorship by their utter neglect of the professor,
whose stipend cannot keep him on the spot where only he
ought to dwell. And Ockley complains also of that hypo-
critical curiosity which pretends to take an interest in things
it cares little about ; perpetually incfuiring, as soon as a work
is announced, when it is to come out. But these Pharisees of
literature, who can only build sepulchres to ancient prophets,
never believe in a living one. Some of these Ockley met with
on the publication of his first volume : they run it down as
the strangest story they had ever heard ; they had never met
with such folks as the Arabians ! " A reverend dignitary
asked me if, when I wrote that book, I had not lately been
reading the history of Oliver Cromwell?" Such was the
plaudit the oriental student received, and returned to grow
pale over his MSS. But when Petis de la Croix, observes
188 Calamities of Authors.
Ockley, was pursuing the same track of study, in the patron-
age of Louis XIV., he found books, leisure, and encourage-
ment ; and when the great Colbert desired him to compose
the life of Genkis Chan, he considered a period of ten years
not too much to be allowed the author. And then Ockley
proceeds —
" But my unhappy condition hath always been widely dif-
ferent from anything that could admit of such an exactness.
Fortune seems only to have given me a taste of it out of
spite, on purpose that I might regret the loss of it."
He describes his two journeys to Oxford, for his first
volume ; but in his second, matters fared worse with him —
" Either my domestic affairs were grown much worse, or I
less able to bear them ; or what is more probable, both."
Ingenuous confession ! fruits of a life devoted in its struggles
to important literature ! and we murmur when genius is irri-
table, and erudition is morose! But let us proceed with
Ockley : —
" I was forced to take the advantage of the slumber of my
cares, that never slept when I was awake ; and if they did
not incessantly interrupt my studies, were sure to succeed
them with no less constancy than night doth the day."
This is the cry of agony. He who reads this without
sympathy, ought to reject these volumes as the idlest he ever
read, and honour me with his contempt. The close of
Ockley's preface shows a love-like tenderness for his studies ;
although he must quit life without bringing them to perfec-
tion, he opens his soul to posterity and tells them, in the
language of prophecy, that if they will bestow encourage-
ment on our youth, the misfortunes he has described will be
remedied. He, indeed, was aware that these students —
" Will hardly come in upon the prospect of finding leisure,
in a prison, to transcribe those papers for the press which
they have collected with indefatigable labour, and oftentimes
at the expense of their rest, and all the other conveniences
of life, for the service of the public."
Yet the exulting martyr of literature, at the moment he is
fast bound to the stake, does not consider a prison so dreadful
a reward for literary labours —
" I can assure them, from my own experience, that I have
enjoyed more true liberty, more happy leisure, and more solid
repose in six months here, than in thrice the same number of
years before. Evil is the condition of that historian who
The Rewards of Oriental Students. 189
undertakes to write the lives of others before he knows how
to live himself. Yet I have no just reason to be angry with
the world ; I never stood in need of its assistance in my life,
but I found it always very liberal of its advice ; for which I
am so much the more beholden to it, by how much the more
I did always in my judgment give the possession of wisdom
the preference to that of riches."*
Poor Ockley, always a student, and rarely what is called a
man of the world, once encountered a literary calamity which
frequently occurs when, an author finds himself among the
vapid triflers and the polished cynics of the fashionable circle.
Something like a patron he found in Harley, the Earl of
Oxford, and once had the unlucky honour of dining at the
table of my Lord Treasurer. It is probable that Ockley,
from retired habits and severe studies, was not at all accom-
plished in \j\m suaviter in ^o^o, of which greater geniuses than
Ockley have so surlily despaired. How he behaved I cannot
narrate: probably he delivered himself with as great sim-
plicity at the table of the Lord Treasurer as on the wrong
* Dr. Edmund Castell oflfers a remarkable instance to illustrate our pre-
sent investigation. He more than devoted his life to his *' Lexicon Hepta-
glotton," It is not possible, if there are tears that are to be bestowed on
the afflictions of learned men, to read his pathetic address to Charles II.,
and forbear. He laments the seventeen years of incredible pains, during
which he thought himself idle when he had not devoted sixteen or eighteen
hours a day to this labour ; that he had expended all his inheritance (it is
said more than twelve thousand pounds) ; that it had broken his constitu-
tion, and left him blind as well as poor. When this invaluable Polyglott
was published, the copies remained unsold in his hands ; for the leai'ned
Castell had anticipated the curiosity and knowledge of the public by a full
century. He had so completely devoted himself to oriental studies, that
they had a very remarkable consequence, for he had totally forgotten his
own language, and could scarcely spell a single word. This appears in
some of his English Letters, preserved by Mr. Nichols in his valuable
"Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century," vol. iv. Five hundred
of these Lexicons, unsold at the time of his death, were placed by Dr.
Castell' s niece in a room so little regarded, that scarcely one complete copy
escaped the rats, and ' ' the whole load of learned rags sold only for seven
pounds." The work at this moment would find purchasers, I believe, at
forty or fifty pounds. — The learned Sale, who first gave the world a
genuine version of the Koran, and who had so zealously laboured in form-
ing that *' Universal History" which was the pride of our country, pursued
his studies through a life of want — and this great orientalist (I grieve to
degrade the memoirs of a man of learning by such mortifications), when he
quitted his studies too often wanted a change of linen, and often wandered
in the streets in search of some compassionate friend who would supply
him with the meal of the day !
190 Calamities of Authors,
side of Cambridge Castle gate. The embarrassment this sim-
pHcity drew him into is very fully stated in the following
copious apology he addressed to the Earl of Oxford, which I
have transcribed from the original ; perhaps it may be a use-
ful memorial to some men of letters as little polished as the
learned Ockley : —
*' Cambridge, July 15, 1714.
"My Lord, — I was so struck with horror and amazement two
days ago, that I cannot possibly express it. A friend of mine
showed me a letter, part of the contents of which were, ' That
Professor Ockley had given such extreme offence by some
uncourtly answers to some gentlemen at my Lord Treasurer's
table that it would be in vain to make any further application
to him.'
" My Lord, it is impossible for me to recollect, at this dis-
tance of time. All that I can say is this : that, as on the one
side for a man to come to his patron's table with a design to
affront either him or his friends supposes him a perfect
natural, a mere idiot ; so on the other side it would be extreme
severe, if a person whose education was far distant from the
politeness of a court, should, upon the account of an unguarded
expression, or some little inadvertency in his behaviour, suffer
a capital sentence.
" Which is my case, if I have forfeited your Lordship's
favour ; which God forbid ! That man is involved in double
ruin that is not only forsaken by his friend, but, which is the
unavoidable consequence, exposed to the malice and contempt
not only of enemies, but, what is still more grievous, of all
sorts of fools.
" It is not the talent of every well-meaning man to converse
with his superiors with due decorum; for, either when he
reflects upon the vast distance of their station above his own,
he is struck dumb and almost insensible ; or else their conde-
scension and courtly behaviour encourages him to be too fami-
liar. To steer exactly between these two extremes requires
not only a good intention, but presence of mind, and long
custom.
" Another article in my friend's letter was, * That some-
body had informed your Lordship that I was a very sot.*
When first I had the honour to be known to your Lordship,
I could easily foresee that there would be persons enough that
would envv me upon that account, and do what in them lay
The Rewards of Oriental Students, 191
to traduce me. Let Haman enjoy never so much himself, it
is all nothing, it does him no good, till poor Mordecai is
hanged out of his way.
" But I never feared the heing censured upon that account.
Here in the University I converse with none but persons of
the most distinguished reputations both for learning and
virtue, and receive from them daily as great marks of respect
and esteem, which I should not have if that imputation were
true. It is most certain that I do indulge myself the freedom
of drinking a cheerful cup, at proper seasons, among my
friends ; but no otherwise than is done by thousands of honest
men, who never forfeit their character by it. And whoever
doth no more than so, deserves no more to be called a sot,
than a man that eats a hearty meal would be wilhng to be
called a glutton.
" As for those detractors, if I have but the least assurance
of your Lordship's favour, I can very easily despise them.
They are Nati consumere fruges. They need not trouble
themselves about what other people do ; for whatever they eat
and drink, it is only robbing the poor. Eesigning myself
entirely to your Lordship's goodness and pardon, I conclude
this necessary apology with like provocation. That I would
he content he should take my character from any person that
had a good one of his. own.
" I am, with all submission, My Lord,
" Your Lordship's most obedient, &c.,
" Simon Ocklet."
To the honour of the Earl of Oxford, this unlucky piece of
awkwardness at table, in giving " uncourtly answers," did not
interrupt his regard for the poor oriental student ; for several
years afterwards the correspondence of Ockley was still accept-
able to the Earl.
If the letters of the widows and children of many of our
eminent authors were collected, they would demonstrate the
great fact, that the man who is a husband or a father ought
not to be an author. They might weary with a monotonous
cry, and usually would be dated from the gaol or the garret.
I have seen an original letter from the widow of Ockley to the
Earl of Oxford, in which she lays before him the deplorable
situation of her affairs; the debts of the Professor being
beyond what his effects amounted to, the severity of the credi-
192 Calamities of Authors.
tors would not even suffer the executor to make the best of
his effects ; the widow remained destitute of necessaries, in-
capable of assisting her children.*
Thus students have devoted their days to studies worthy of
a student. They are public benefactors, yet find no friend in
the public, who cannot yet appreciate their value — Ministers
of State know it, though they have rarely protected them.
Ockley, by letters I have seen, was frequently employed by
Bolingbroke to translate letters from the Sovereign of Mo-
rocco to our court ; yet all the debts for which he was impri-
soned in Cambridge Castle did not exceed two hundred pounds.
The public interest is concerned in stimulating such enthu-
siasts ; they are men who cannot be salaried, who cannot be
created b}^ letters-patent ; for they are men who infuse their
soul into their studies, and breathe their fondness for them in
their last agonies. Yet such are doomed to feel their life
pass away like a painful dream !
Those who know the value of Lightfoot's Hebraic studies,
may be startled at the impediments which seem to have
annihilated them. In the following effusion he confides his
secret agitation to his friend Buxtorf : " A few years since I
prepared a little commentary on the First Epistle to the
Corinthians, in the same style and manner as I had done that on
Matthew. But it laid by me two years or more, nor can I now
publish it, but at my own charges, and to my great damage,
which I felt enough and too much in the edition of my book
upon Mark. Some progress I have made in the gospel of St.
Luke, but I can print nothing but at my own cost : thereupon
I wholly give myself to reading, scarce thinking of writing
more ; for booksellers and printers have dulled my edge, who
will print no book, especially Latin, unless they have an
assured and considerable gain."
These writings and even the fragments have been justly
* The following are extracts from Ockley's letters to the Eaii of Oxford,
which I copy from the originals : —
" Cambridge Castle, May 2, 1717.
* ' I am here in the prison for debt, which must needs be an unavoidable
consequence of the distractions in my family. I enjoy more repose, indeed,
here, than I have tasted these many years, but the circumstance of a family
obliges me to go out as soon as I can."
*' Cambridge, Sept. 7, 1717.
**I have at last found leisure in my confinement to finish my Saracen
history, which I might have hoped for in vain in my perplexed circum-
stances."
Danger of the Result of Literary Inquiries. 193
appreciated by posterity, and a recent edition of all Lightfoot's
works in many volumes have received honours which their
despairing author never contemplated.
DANGER INCURRED BY GIVING THE RESULT OP LITERARY
INQUIRIES.
An author occupies a critical situation, for, while he is pre-
senting the world with the result of his profound studies and
his honest inquiries, it may prove pernicious to himself. By
it he may incur the risk of offending the higher powers, and
witnessing his own days embittered. Liable, by his modera-
tion or his discoveries, by his scruples or his assertions, by his
adherence to truth, or by the curiosity of his speculations, to
be persecuted by two opposite parties, even when the accusa-
tions of the one necessarily nullify the other ; such an author
will be fortunate to be permitted to retire out of the circle of
the bad passions ; but he crushes in silence and voluntary ob-
scurity all future efforts — and thus the nation loses a valued
author.
This case is exemplified by the history of Dr. Cowel's
curious work " The Interpreter." The book itself is a trea-
sure of our antiquities, illustrating our national manners. The
author was devoted to his studies, and the merits of his work
recommended him to the Archbishop of Canterbury ; in the
Ecclesiastical Court he practised as a civilian, and became
there eminent as a judge.*
Cowel gave his work with all the modesty of true learning ;
for who knows his deficiencies so well in the subject on which
he has written as that author who knows most ? It is de-
lightful to listen to the simplicity and force with which an author
in the reign of our first James opens himself without reserve.
" My true end is the advancement of knowledge ; and
* Cowel's book, " The Interpreter," though professedly a mere explana-
tion of law terms, was believed to contain allusions or interpretations of
law entirely adapted to party feeling. Cowel was blamed by both parties,
and his book declared to infringe the royal prerogative or the liberties of
the subject. It was made one of the articles against Laud at his trial,
that he had sanctioned a new edition of this work to countenance King
Charles in his measures. Cowel had died long before this (October, 1611) ;
he had retired again to collegiate life as soon as he got free of his political
persecutions. — Ed.
O
194 Calamities of Authors.
therefore have I published this poor work, not only to impart
the good thereof to those young ones that want it, but also to
draw from the learned the supply of my defects. Whosoever
will charge these my travels [labours] with many oversights,
he shall need no solemn pains to prove them. And upon the
view taken of this book sithence the impression, I dare assure
them that shall observe most faults therein, that I, by glean-
ing after him, will gather as many omitted by him, as he shall
show committed by me. What a man saith well is not, how-
ever, to be rejected because he hath some errors ; reprehend
who will, in God's name, that is, with sweetness and without
reproach. So shall he reap hearty thanks at my hands, and
thus more soundly help in a few months, than I, by tossing
and tumbling my books at home, could possibly have done in
many years."
This extract discovers Cowel's amiable character as an
author. But he was not fated to receive " sweetness without
reproach."
Cowel encountered an unrelenting enemy in Sir Edward
Coke, the famous Attorney-General of James I., the commen-
tator of Littleton. As a man, his name ought to arouse our
indignation, for his licentious tongue, his fierce brutality, and
his cold and tasteless genius. He whose vileness could even
ruffle the great spirit of Eawleigh, was the shameless perse-
cutor of the learned Cowel.
Coke was the oracle of the common law, and Cowel of the
civil ; but Cowel practised at Westminster Hall as well as at
Doctors' Commons. Coke turned away with hatred from an
advocate who, with the skill of a great lawyer, exerted all the
courage. The Attorney-General sought every occasion to
degrade him, and, with puerile derision, attempted to fasten
on Dr. Cowel the nickname of Dr. Cowheel. Coke, after
having written in his " Reports " whatever he could against
our author, with no effect, started a new project. Coke well
knew his master's jealousy on the question of his prerogative ;
and he touched the King on that nerve. The Attorney-
General suggested to James that Cowel had discussed " too
nicely the mysteries of his monarchy, in some points deroga-
tory to the supreme power of his crown ; asserting that the
royal prerogative was in some cases limited." So subtlj^ the
serpent whispered to the feminine ear of a monarch, whom
this vanity of royalty startled with all the fears of a woman.
This suggestion had nearly occasioned the ruin of Cowel — it
~ ' Danger of the Result of Literary Inquiries. 193
verged on treason ; and if the conspiracy of Coke now failed,
it was through the mediation of the archbishop, who influenced
the King ; but it succeeded in alienating the royal favour
from Cowel.
When Coke found he could not hang Cowel for treason, it
was only a small disappointment, for he had hopes to secure
his prey by involving him in felony. As physicians in despe-
rate cases sometimes reverse their mode of treatment, so Coke
now operated on an opposite principle. He procured a party in
the Commons to declare that Cowel was a betrayer of the
rights and liberties of the people ; that he had asserted the
King was independent of Parliament, and that it was a favour
to admit the consent of his subjects in giving of subsidies,
&c. ; and, in a word, that he drew his arguments from the
Eoman Imperial Code, and would make the laws and customs
of Eome and Constantinople those of London and York.
Passages were wrested to Coke's design. The pre facer of
Cowel' s book very happily expresses himself when he says,
" When a suspected book is brought to the torture, it often
confesseth all, and more than it knows."
The Commons proceeded criminally against Cowel ; and it
is said his life was required, had not the king interposed. The
author was imprisoned, and the book was burnt.
On this occasion was issued " a proclamation touching Dr.
Cowel's book called * The Interpreter.' " It may be classed
among the most curious documents of our literary history.
I do not hesitate to consider this proclamation as the compo-
sition of James I.
I will preserve some passages from this proclamation, not
merely for their majestic composition, which may still be
admired, and the singularity of the ideas, which may still be
applied — but for the literary event to which it gave birth in
the appointment of a royal licenser for the press. Proclama-
tions and burning of books are the strong efforts of a weak
government, exciting rather than suppressing public atten-
tion.
" This later age and times of the world wherein we are
fallen is so much given to verbal profession, as well of religion
as of all commendable royal virtues, but wanting the actions
and deeds agreeable to so specious a profession ; as it hath
bred such an unsatiable curiosity in many men's spirits, and
such an itching in the tongues and pens of most men, as
nothing is left uusearched to the bottom both in talking and
2
196 Calamities of Authors.
writing. For from the very highest mysteries in the God-
head and the most inscrutable counsels in the Trinity, to the
very lowest pit of hell and the confused actions of the devils
there, there is nothing now unsearched into by the curiosity
of men's brains. Men, not being contented with the know-
ledge of so much of the will of God as it hath pleased him
to reveal, but they will needs sit with him in his most private
closet, and become privy of his most inscrutable counsels.
And, therefore, it is no wonder that men in these our days do
not spare to wade in all the deepest mysteries that belong to
the persons or state of kings and princes, that are gods upon
earth ; since we see (as we have already said) that they spare
not God himself. And this licence, which every talker or
writer now assumeth to himself, is come to this abuse;
that many Phormios will give counsel to Hannibal, and
many men that never went of the compass of cloysters
or colleges, will freely wade, by their writings, in the deepest
mysteries of monarchy and politick government. Whereupon
it cannot otherwise fall out but that when men go out of their
element and meddle with things above their capacity, them-
selves shall not only go astray and stumble in darkness, but
will mislead also divers others with themselves into many mis-
takings and errors ; the proof whereof we have lately had by
a book written by Dr. Cowel, called 'The Interpreter.'"
The royal reviewer then in a summary way shows how
Cowel had, " by meddling in matters beyond his reach, fallen
into many things to mistake and deceive himself." The book
is therefore " prohibited ; the buying, uttering, or reading
it ;" and those " who have any copies are to deliver the same
presently upon this publication to the Mayor of London,"
&c., and the proclamation concludes with instituting licensers
of the press : —
" Because that there shall be better oversight of books of all
sorts before they come to the press, we have resolved to make
choice of commissioners, that shall look more narrowly into
the nature of all those things that shall be put to the press,
and from whom a more strict account shall be yielded unto
us, than hath been used heretofore."
What were the feelings of our injured author, whose
integrity was so firm, and whose love of study was so warm,
when he reaped for his reward the displeasure of his sove-
reign, and the indignation of his countrymen — accused at
Danger of the Result of Literary Inquiries. 197
once of contradictory crimes, he could not be a betrayer of
the rights of the people, and at the same time limit the sove-
reign power. Cowel retreated to his college, and, like a wise
man, abstained from the press; he pursued his private studies,
while his inoffensive life was a comment on Coke's inhu-
manity more honourable to Cowel than any of Coke's on
Littleton.
Thus Cowel saw, in his own life, its richest labour thrown
aside ; and when the author and his adversary were no more,
it became a treasure valued by posterity ! It was printed in
the reign of Charles I., under tlie administration of Crom-
well, and again after the Restoration. It received the honour
of a foreign edition. Its value is still permanent. Such is
the history of a book, which occasioned the disgrace of its
author, and embittered his life.
A similar calamity was the fate of honest Stowe, the
Chronicler. After a long life of labour, and having exhausted
his patrimony in the study of English antiquities, from a
reverential love to his country, poor Stowe was ridiculed,
calumniated, neglected, and persecuted. One cannot read
without indignation and pity what Howes, his continuator,
tells us in his dedication. Howes had observed that —
" No man would lend a helping hand to the late aged
painful Chronicler, nor, after his death, prosecute his work.
He applied himself to several persons of dignity and learning,
whose names had got forth among the public as likely to be
the continuators of Stowe ; but every one persisted in denying
this, and some imagined that their secret enemies had men-
tioned their names with a view of injuring them, by incurring
the displeasure of their superiors and risking their own quiet.
One said, ' T will not flatter, to scandalise my posterity ;'
another, ' I cannot see how a man should spend his labour
and money worse than in that which acquires no regard nor
reward except backbiting and detraction.^ One swore a great
oath and said, ' I thank God that I am not yet so mad to
waste my time, spend two hundred pounds a-year, trouble
myself and all my friends, only to give assurance of endless
reproach, loss of liberty, and bring all mydaj'^s in question."*
Unhappy authors ! are such then the terrors which silence
eloquence, and such the dangers which environ truth ? Pos-
terity has many discoveries to make, or many deceptions to
endure ! But we are treading on hot embers.
198 Calamities of Authors,
Such too was the fate of Eeginald Scot, who, in an
elaborate and curious volume,* if he could not stop the torrent
of the popular superstitions of witchcraft, was the first, at
least, to break and scatter the waves. It is a work which
forms an epoch in the history of the human mind in our
country ; but the author had anticipated a very remote period
of its enlargement. Scot, the apostle of humanity, and the
legislator of reason, lived in retirement, yet persecuted by
rehgious credulity and legal cruelty.
Selden, perhaps the most learned of our antiquaries, was
often led, in his curious investigations, to disturb his own
peace, by giving the result of his inquiries. James I. and the
Court party were willing enough to extol his profound autho-
rities and reasonings on topics which did not interfere with
their system of arbitrary power ; but they harassed and per-
secuted the author whom they would at other times eagerly
quote as their advocate. Selden, in his " History of Tithes,"
had alarmed the clergy by the intricacy of his inquiries. He
pretends, however, to have only collected the opposite opinions
of others, without delivering his own. The book was not
only suppressed, but the great author was further disgraced
by subscribing a gross recantation of all his learned investiga-
tions — and was compelled to receive in silence the insults of
courtly scholars, who had the hardihood to accuse him of
plagiarism, and other literary treasons, which more sensibly
hurt Selden than the recantation extorted from his hand by
"the Lords of the High Commission Court." James I.
would not suffer him to reply to them. When the king
desired Selden to show the right of the British Crown to the
dominion of the sea, this learned author having made proper
collections, Selden, angried at an imprisonment he had un-
dergone, refused to publish the work. A great author like
Selden degrades himself when any personal feeling, in lite-
rary disputes, places him on an equality with any king ; the
duty was to his country. — But Selden, alive to the call of
rival genius, when Grotius published, in Holland, his Mare
* ' ' The Discoverie of WitcL craft, necessary to be known for the undeceiv-
ing of Judges, Justices, and Juries, and for the Preservation of Poor
People." Third edition, 1665. This was about the time that, according
to Arnot's Scots Trials, the expenses of burning a witch amounted to
ninety-two pounds, fourteen shillings, Scots. The unfortunate old woman
cost two trees, and employed two men to watch her closely for thirty days !
One ought to recollect the past follies of humanity, to detect, perhaps,
some existing ones.
Danger of the Result of Literary Inquiries. 199
liberum, gave the world his Mare clausum; when Selden had
to encounter Grotius, and to proclaim to the universe " the
Sovereignty of the Seas," how contemptible to him appeared
the mean persecutions of a crowned head, and how little his
own meaner resentment !
To this subject the fate of Dr. Hawkeswoeth is somewhat
allied. It is well known that this author, having distin-
guished himself by his pleasing compositions in the " Adven-
turer," was chosen to draw up the narrative of Cook's
discoveries in the South Seas. The pictures of a new world,
the description of new manners in an original state of society,
and the incidents arising from an adventure which could find
no parallel in the annals of mankind, but under the solitary
genius of Columbus — all these were conceived to offer a
history, to which the moral and contemplative powers of
Hawkesworth only were equal. Our author's fate, and that
of his work, are known : he incurred all the danger of giving
the result of his inquiries ; he indulged his imagination till
it burst into pruriency, and discussed moral theorems till he
ceased to be moral. The shock it gave to the feelings of our
author was fatal ; and the error of a mind, intent on in-
quiries which, perhaps, he thought innocent, and which the
world condemned as criminal, terminated in death itself.
Hawkesworth was a vain man, and proud of having raised
himself by his literary talents from his native obscurity : of
no learning, he drew all his science from the Cyclopaedia ;
and, I have heard, could not always have construed the Latin
mottos of his own paper, which were furnished by Johnson ;
but his sensibility was abundant — and ere his work was given
to the world, he felt those tremblings and those doubts
which anticipated his fate. That he was in a state of mental
agony respecting the reception of his opinions, and some other
parts of his work, will, I think, be discovered in the following
letter, hitherto unpublished. It was addressed, with his
MSS., to a peer, to be examined before they were sent to the
press — an occupation probably rather too serious for the
noble critic: —
^^ London, March 2, 1761.
" I think myself happy to be permitted to put my MSS.
into your Lordship's hands, because, though it increases my
anxiety and my fears, yet it will at least secure me from
what I should think a far greater misfortune than any other
that can attend my performance, the danger of addressing to
200 Calamities of Authors,
the King any sentiment, allusion, or opinion, that could make
such an address improper. I have now the honour to submit
the work to your Lordship, with the dedication ; from which
the duty I owe to his Majesty, and, if I may be permitted to
add anything to that, the duty I owe to myself, have con-
curred to exclude the servile, extravagant, and indiscriminate
adulation which has so often disgraced alike those by whom
it has been given and received.
" I remain, &c. &c."
This elegant epistle justly describes that delicacy in style
which has been so rarely practised by an indiscriminate dedi-
cator ; and it not less feelingly touches on that " far greater
misfortune than any other," which finally overwhelmed the
fortitude and intellect of this unhappy author !
A NATIONAL WORK WHICH COULD FIND NO PATRONAGE.
The author who is now before us is De Lolme !
I shall consider as an English author that foreigner, who
flew to our country as the asylum of Europe, who composed
a noble work on our Constitution, and, having imbibed its
spirit, acquired even the language of a free country.
I do not know an example in our literary history that so
loudly accuses our tardy and phlegmatic feeling respecting
authors, as the treatment De Lolme experienced in this
country. His book on our Constitution still enters into the
studies of an English patriot, and is not the worse for flatter-
ing and elevating the imagination, painting everything beau-
tiful, to encourage our love as well as our reverence for the
most perfect sj^stem of governments. It was a noble as well
as ingenious effort in a foreigner — it claimed national atten-
tion — but could not obtain even individual patronage. The
fact is mortifying to record, that the author who wanted
every aid, received less encouragement than if he had solicited
subscriptions for a raving novel, or an idle poem. De Lolme
was compelled to traffic with booksellers for this work ; and,
as he was a theoretical rather than a practical politician, he
was a bad trader, and acquired the smallest remuneration.
He lived, in the country to which he had rendered a national
service, in extreme obscurity and decay ; and the walls of the
Fleet too often enclosed the EngUsh Montesquieu, He never
A Work which could find no Patronage. 201
appears to have received a solitary attention,* and became so
disgusted with authorship, that he preferred silently to en-
dure its poverty rather than its other vexations. He ceased
almost to write. Of De Lolme I have heard little re-
corded but his high-mindedness ; a strong sense that he stood
degraded beneath that rank in society which his book entitled
him to enjoy. The cloud of poverty that covered him only
veiled without concealing its object; with the manners and
dress of a decayed gentleman, he still showed the few who
met him that he cherished a spirit perpetually at variance
with the adversity of his circumstances.
Our author, in a narrative prefixed to his work, is the
proud historian of his own injured feelings ; he smiled in bit-
terness on his contemporaries, confident it was a tale reserved
for posterity.
After having written the work whose systematic principles
refuted those political notions which prevailed at the era of
the American revolution, — and whose truth has been so fatally
demonstrated in our own times, in two great revolutions,
which have shown all the defects and all the mischief of
nations rushing into a state of freedom before they are worthy
of it, — the author candidly acknowledges he counted on some
sort of encouragement, and little expected to find the mere
publication had drawn him into great inconvenience.
" When my enlarged English edition was ready for the
press, had I acquainted ministers that I was preparing to
boil my tea-kettle with it, for want of being able to afford
the expenses of printing it ;" ministers, it seems, would not
have considered that he was lighting his fire with " myrrh,
and cassia, and precious ointment."
In the want of encouragement from great men, and even
from booksellers, De Lolme had recourse to a subscription ;
and his account of the manner he was received, and the in-
dignities he endured, all which are narrated with great sim-
plicity, show that whatever his knowledge of our Constitution
might be, " his knowledge of the country was, at that time,
very incomplete." At length, when he shared the profits of
his work with the booksellers, they were " but scanty and
slow." After all, our author sarcastically congratulates him-
self, that he —
* Except by the hand of literary charity ; he was more than once
relieved by the Literary Fund. Such are the authors only whom it is wise
to patronise.
203 Calamities of Authors. *
" Was allowed to carry on the above business of selling my
book, without any objection being formed against me, from
my not having served a regular apprenticeship, and without
being molested by the Inquisition."
And further he adds —
" Several authors have chosen to relate, in writings pub-
lished after death, the personal advantages by which their
performances had been followed ; as for me, I have thought
otherwise — and I will see it printed while I am yoi living."
This, indeed, is the language of irritation ! and De Lolme
degrades himself in the loudness of his complaint. But if
the philosopher lost his temper, that misfortune will not
take away the dishonour of the occasion that produced it.
The country's shame is not lessened because the author who
had raised its glory throughout Europe, and instructed
the nation in its best lesson, grew indignant at the ingra-
titude of his pupil. De Lolme ought not to have congra-
tulated himself that he had been allowed the liberty of the
press unharassed by an inquisition : this sarcasm is senseless!
or his book is a mere fiction !
THE MISERIES OF SUCCESSFUL AUTHORS.
Hume is an author so celebrated, a philosopher so serene,
and a man so extremely amiable, if not fortunate, that we
may be surprised to meet his name inscribed in a catalogue
of literary calamities. Look into his literary life, and you
will discover that the greater portion was mortified and
angried ; and that the stoic so lost his temper, that had not
circumstances intervened which did not depend on himself,
Hume had abandoned his country and changed his name !
" The first success of most of my writings was not such as
to be an object of vanity." His " Treatise of Human Na-
ture" fell dead-born from the press. It was cast anew with
another title, and was at first little more successful. The
following letter to Des Maiseaux, which I believe is now first
pubhshed, gives us the feelings of the youthful and modest
philosopher : —
"Dayid Hume to Des Maiseaux.
" Ste, — Whenever you see my name, you'll readily imagine
the subject of my letter. A young author can scarce forbear
The Miseries of Successful Authors, 203
speaking of his performance to all the world ; but when he
meets with one that is a good judge, and whose instruction
and advice he depends on, there ought some indulgence to be
given him. You were so good as to promise me, that if you
could find leisure from your other occupations, you would
look over my system of philosophy, and at the same time ask
the opinion of such of your acquaintance as you thought
proper judges. Have you found it sufficiently intelligible ?
Does it appear true to you ? Do the style and language seem
tolerable ? These three questions comprehend everything ;
and 1 beg of you to answer them with the utmost freedom
and sincerity. I know 'tis a custom to flatter poets on their
performances, but I hope philosophers may be exempted ; and
the more so that their cases are by no means alike. When we
do not approve of anything in a poet we commonly can give
no reason for our dislikes but our particular taste ; which not
being convincing, we think it better to conceal our sen-
timents altogether. But every error in philosophy can be
distinctly markt and proved to be such ; and this is a favour
I flatter myself you'll indulge me in with regard to the per-
formance I put into your hands. I am, indeed, afraid that it
would be too great a trouble for you to mark all the errors
you have observed ; I shall only insist upon being informed
of the most material of them, and you may assure yourself
will consider it as a singular favour. I am, with great
esteem
" Sir, your most obedient and most humble servant,
''AprlleG, 1739. " DaYID HumE.
" Please direct to me at Ninewells, near Berwick-upon-
Tweed."
Hume's own favourite " Inquiry Concerning the Principles
of Morals" came unnoticed and unobserved in the world.
When he published the first portion of his " History," which
made even Hume himself sanguine in his expectations, he
tells his own tale : —
" I thought that I was the only historian that had at once
neglected present power, interest, and authority, and the cry
of popular prejudices ; and, as the subject was suited to every
capacity, I expected proportional applause. But miserable
was my disappointment ! All classes of men and readers
united in their rage against him who had presumed to shed a
g^enerous tear for the fate of Charles I. and the Earl of
204 Calamities of Authors.
Strafford." "What was still more mortifying, the book
seemed to sink into oblivion, and in a twelvemonth not more
than forty-five copies were sold."
Even Hume, a stoic hitherto in his literary character, was
struck down, and dismayed — he lost all courage to proceed —
and, had the war not prevented him, " he had resolved to
change his name, and never more to have returned to his
native country."
But an author, though born to suffer martyrdom, does not
always expire ; he may be flayed like St. Bartholomew, and
yet he can breathe without a skin ; stoned, like St. Stephen,
and j^et write on with a broken head ; and he has been even
known to survive the flames, notwithstanding the most pre-
cious part of an author, which is obviously his book, has been
burnt in an auto da fe. Hume once more tried the press in
" The Natural History of Religion." It proved but another
martyrdom ! Still was the fall (as he terms it) of the first
volume of his History haunting his nervous imagination,
when he found himself yet strong enough to hold a pen in
his hand, and ventured to produce a second, which " helped
to buoy up its unfortunate brother." But the third part,
containing the reign of Elizabeth, was particularly obnox-
ious, and he was doubtful whether he was again to be led to
the stake. But Hume, a little hardened by a little success,
grew, to use his own words, " callous against the impressions
of public folly," and completed his History, which was now
received " with tolerable, and but tolerable, success."
At length, in the sixty -fifth year of his age, our author
began, a year or two before he died, as he writes, to see
" many symptoms of my literary reputation breaking out at
last with additional lustre, though I know that I can have
but few years to enjoy it." What a provoking consolation
for a philosopher, who, according to the result of his own
system, was close upon a state of annihilation !
To Hume, let us add the illustrious name of Detdek.
It was after preparing a second edition of Virgil, that the
great Dry den, who had lived, and was to die in harness,
found himself still obliged to seek for daily bread. Scarcely
relieved from one heavy task, he was compelled to hasten to
another ; and his efforts were now stimulated by a domestic
feeling, the expected return of his son in ill-health from
Home. In a letter to his bookseller he pathetically writes —
"If it please God that I must die of over study, I cannot
The Miseries of Successful Authors, 205
spend my life better than in preserving his." It was on this
occasion, on the verge of his seventieth year, as he describes
himself in the dedication of his Virgil, that, " worn out with
study, and oppressed with fortune," he contracted to supply
the bookseller with 10,000 verses at sixpence a line !
What was his entire dramatic life but a series of vexation
and hostility, from his first play to his last ? On those very
boards whence Dryden was to have derived the means of his
existence and his fame, he saw his foibles aggravated, and his
morals aspersed. Overwhelmed by the keen ridicule of
Buckingham, and maliciously mortified by the triumph which
Settle, his meanest rival, was allowed to obtain over him,
and doomed still to encounter the cool malignant eye of
Langbaine, who read poetry only to detect plagiarism.
Contemporary genius is inspected with too much familiarity
to be felt with reverence ; and the angry prefaces of Dryden
only excjted the little revenge of the wits. How could such
sympathise with injured, but with lofty feehngs? They
spread two reports of him, which may not be true, but which
hurt him with the public. It was said that, being jealous of
the success of Creech, for his version of Lucretius, he advised
him to attempt Horace, in which Dryden knew he would
fail — and a contemporary haunter of the theatre, in a curious
letter* on The Winter Diversions, says of Congreve's
angry preface to the Double Dealer, that —
" The critics were severe upon this play, which gave the
author occasion to lash them in his epistle dedicatory — so
that 'tis generally thought he has done his business and lost
himself; a thing he owes to Mr. Dryden's treacherous
friendship, who being jealous of the applause he had got by
his Old Bachelor deluded him into a foolish imitation of
his own way of writing angry prefaces."
This lively critic is still more vivacious on the great
Dryden, who had then produced his Love Triumphant,
which, the critic says,
" Was damned by the universal cry of the town, nemine
contradicente but the conceited poet. He says in his pro-
logue that ' this is the last the town must expect from
him ;' he had done himself a kindness had he taken his leave
before." He then describes the success of Southerne's
Fatal Marriage, or the Innocent Adultery, and concludes,
* A letter found among the papers of the late Mr. Windham, which
Sir. Maloae has preserved.
206 Calamities of Authors,
" This kind usage will encourage desponding minor poets,
and vex huffing Dryden and Congreve to madness.''^
I have quoted thus much of this letter, that we may have
before us a true image of those feelings which contemporaries
entertain of the greater geniuses of their age ; how they seek
to level them ; and in what manner men of genius are
doomed to be treated — slighted, starved, and abused. Dry-
den and Congreve ! the one the finest genius, the other the
most exquisite wit of our nation, are to be vexed to madness !
— their failures are not to excite sympathy, but contempt or
ridicule! How the feelings and the language of contem-
poraries differ from that of posterity ! And yet let us not
exult in our purer and more dignified feelings — tee are, in-
deed, the posterity of Dryden and Congreve ; but we are the
contemporaries of others who must patiently hope for better
treatment from our sons than they have received from the
fathers.
Dryden was no master of the pathetic, yet never were
compositions more pathetic than the Prefaces this great man
has transmitted to posterity ! Opening all the feelings of
his heart, we live among his domestic sorrows. Johnson
censures Dryden for saying lie has few thanks to pay his stars
that he was horn among Englishmen* We have just seen
that Hume went farther, and sighed to fly to a retreat be-
yond that country which knew not to reward genius. —
What, if Dryden felt the dignity of that character he sup-
ported, dare we blame his frankness ? If the age be unge-
nerous, shall contemporaries escape the scourge of the great
author, who feels he is addressing another age more favour-
able to him ?
Johnson, too, notices his " Self-commendation ; his dili-
gence in reminding the world of his merits, and expressing,
with very little scruple, his high opinion of his own
powers." Dryden shall answer in his own words ; with all
the simplicity of Montaigne, he expresses himself with the
dignity that would have become Milton or Gray : —
" It is a vanity common to all writers to overvahie their
own productions ; and it is better for me to own this failing
in myself, than the world to do it for me. For what other
* There is an affecting remonstrance of Dryden to Hyde, Earl of
Rochester, on the state of his poverty and neglect — in which is this re-
markable passage; — "It is enough for one age to have neglected Mr.
Cowley and starved Mr. Butler."
The Miseries of Successful Authors, 207
reason have I spent my life in such an unprofitable study ?
VfHiy am I grown old in seeking so harren a reward as fame ?
The same parts and application which have made me a poet,
might have raised me to any honours of* the gown, which are
often given to men of as little learning, and less honesty,
than myself."
How feelingly Whitehead paints the situation of Dryden
in his old age : —
Yet lives the man, how wild soe'er his aim,
Would madly barter fortune's smiles for fame !
Well pleas'd to shine, thi'ough each recording page,
The hapless Dryden of a shameless age !
Ill-fated bard ! where'er thy name appears.
The weeping verse a sad memento bears ;
Ah ! what avail' d the enormous blaze between
Thy dawn of glory and thy closing scene !
When sinking nature asks our kind repairs.
Unstrung the nerves, and silver'd o'er the hairs ;
When stay'd reflection came uncall'd at last,
And gray experience counts each folly past !
Mickle's version of the Lusiad offers an affecting instance
of the melancholy fears which often accompany the progress
of works of magnitude, undertaken by men of genius. Five
years he had buried himself in a farm-house, devoted to the
solitary labour ; and he closes his preface with the fragment
of a poem, whose stanzas have perpetuated all the tremblings
and the emotions, whose unhappy influence the author had
experienced through the long work. Thus pathetically he
addresses the Muse : —
Well thy meed repays thy worthless toil ;
Upon thy houseless head pale want descends
In bitter shower ; aud taunting scorn still rends
And wakes thee trembling from thy golden dream :
In vetchy bed, or loathly dungeon ends
Thy idled life
And when, at length, the great and anxious labour was
completed, the author was still more unhappy than under the
former influence of his foreboding terrors. The work is dedi-
cated to the Duke of Buccleugh. Whether his Grace had
been prejudiced against the poetical labour by Adam Smith,
who had as little comprehension of the nature of poetry as
becomes a political economist, or from whatever cause, after
possessing it for six weeks the Duke had never condescended
to open the volume. It is to the honour of Mickle that the
208 Calamities of Authors.
Dedication is a simple respectful inscription, in whicli the
poet had not compromised his dignity, — and that in the second
edition he had the magnanimity not to withdraw the dedica-
tion to this statue-like patron. Neither was the critical recep-
tion of this splendid labour of five devoted years grateful to
the sensibility of the author : he writes to a friend —
" Though my work is well received at Oxford, I will honestly
own to you, some things have hurt me. A few grammatical
slips in the introduction have been mentioned; and some
things in the notes about Virgil, Milton, and Homer, have
been called the arrogance of criticism. But the greatest
offence of all is, what I say of blank verse."
' He was, indeed, after this great work was given to the
public, as unhappy as at any preceding period of his life ; and
Mickle, too, like Hume and Dryden, could feel a wish to for-
sake his native land ! He still found his "head houseless ;"
and " the vetch}'- bed" and " loathly dungeon" still haunted
his dreams. " To write for the booksellers is what I never
will do," exclaimed this man of genius, though struck by
poverty. He projected an edition of his own poems by sub-
scription.
" Desirous of giving an edition of my works, in which I
shall bestow the utmost attention, which, perhaps, will be my
final farewell to that blighted spot (worse than the most bleak
mountains of Scotland) yclept Parnassus ; after this labour is
finished, if Governor Johnstone cannot or does not help me
to a little independence, I will certainly hid adieu to Europe,
to unhappy suspense, and perhaps also to the chagrin of soul
which Ifeel to accompany it.^^
Such was the language which cannot now be read without
exciting our sympathy for the author of the version of an
epic, which, after a solemn devotion of no small portion of the
most valuable years of life, had been presented to the world,
with not sufficient remuneration or notice of the author to
create even hope in the sanguine temperament of a poet.
^Mickle was more honoured at Lisbon than in his own country.
So imperceptible are the gradations of public favour to the
feelings of genius, and so vast an interval separates that
author who does not immediately address the tastes or the
fashions of his age, from the reward or the enjoyment of his
studies.^
We cannot account, among the lesser calamities of litera-
ture, that of a man of genius, who, dedicating his days to the
#
The Miseries of Successful Authors. 309
composition of a voluminous and national work, when that
labour is accomplished, finds, on its publication, the hope of
fame, and perhaps other hopes as necessary to reward past toil,
and open to future enterprise, all annihilated. Yet this work
neglected or not relished, perhaps even the sport of witlings,
afterwards is placed among the treasures of our language,
when the author is no more ! but what is posthumous grati-
tude, could it reach even the ear of an angel ?
The calamity is unavoidable ; but this circumstance does
not lessen it. New works must for a time be submitted to
popular favour; but posterity is the inheritance of genius.
The man of genius, however, who has composed this great
work, calculates his vigils, is best acquainted with its merits,
and is not without an anticipation of the future feeling of his
country ; he
But weeps the more, because he weeps in vain.
Such is the fate which has awaited many great works ; and
the heart of genius has died away on its own labours. I need
not go so far back as the Elizabethan age to illustrate a cala-
mity which will excite the sympathy of every man of letters ;
but the great work of a man of no ordinary genius presents
itself on this occasion.
This great work is " The Polyolbion" of Michael Dray-
ton ; a poem unrivalled for its magnitude and its character.*
The genealogy of poetry is always suspicious ; yet I think it
owed its birth to Leland's magnificent view of his intended
work on Britain, and was probably nourished by the " Bri-
taimia" of Camden, who inherited the mighty industry, with-
out the poetical spirit, of Leland ; Drayton embraced both.
This singular combination of topographical erudition and
poetical fancy constitutes a national work — a union that some
may conceive not fortunate, no more than "the slow length"
of its Alexandrine metre, for the purposes of mere delight.
* The author explains the nature of his book in his title-page when he
calls it**AChorographicall Description of tracts, rivers, mountaines, forests,
and other parts of this renowned Isle of Great Britaine, with intermixture
of the most remarquable stories, antiquities, wonders, rarityes, pleasures,
and commodities of the same ; digested in a Poem.'* The maps with which
it is illustrated are curious for the impersonations of the nymphs of wood and
water, the sylvan gods, and other characters of the poem ; to which the
learned Selden supplied notes. Ellis calls it "a wonderful work, exhibiting
at once the learning of an historian, an antiquary, a naturalist, and a geo-
grapher, and embellished by the imagination of a poet." — Ed.
P
210 Calamities of Authors,
Yet what theme can be more elevating than a bard chanting
to his " Fatherland," as the Hollanders called their country ?
Our tales of ancient glory, our worthies who must not die,
our towns, our rivers, and our mountains, all glancing before
the picturesque eye of the naturalist and the poet ! It is,
indeed, a labour of Hercules ; but it was not unaccompanied
by the lyre of Apollo.
This national work was ill received ; and the great author
dejected, never pardoned his contemporaries, and even lost his
temper.* Drayton and his poetical friends beheld indignantly
the trifles of the hour overpowering the neglected Polyolbion.
One poet tells us that
they prefer
The fawning lines of every pamphleter.
Geo. Witheks.
And a contemporary records the utter neglect of this great
poet ; —
Why lives Drayton when the times refuse
Both means to live, and matter for a muse,
Only without excuse to leave us quite,
And tell us, dur^t we act, he durst to write ?
W. Browkb.
Drayton published his Polyolbion first in eighteen parts ;
and the second portion afterwards. In this interval we have
a letter to Drummond, dated in 1619 : —
" I thank you, my dear sweet Drummond, for your good
opinion of Polyolbion, I have done twelve books more, that
is, from the 18th book, which was Kent (if you note it), all
the east parts and north to the river of Tweed ; hut it lieth
hy me, for the hoohsellers and I are in terms ; they are a
company of base knaves, whom I scorn and kick at."
The vengeance of the poet had been more justly wreaked
on the buyers of books than on the sellers, who, though
knavery has a strong connexion with trade, yet, were they
knaves, they would be true to their own interests. Far from
impeding a successful author, booksellers are apt to hurry his
labours ; for they prefer the crude to the mature fruit, when-
ever the public taste can be appeased even by an unripened
dessert.
* In the dedication of the first part to Prince Henry, the author says of
his work, "it cannot want en vie : for even in the birth it alreadie finds
that."— Ed.
The Miseries of Successful Authors. 211
These " knaves,'* however, seem to have succeeded in forcing
poor Drayton to observe an abstinence from the press, which
must have convulsed all the feelings of authorship. The
second part was not published till three years after this letter
was written ; and then without maps. Its preface is remark-
able enough ; it is pathetic, till Drayton loses the dignity of
genius in its asperity. In is inscribed, in no good humour —
" To ANT THAT WILL BEAD IT !
" When I first undertook this poem, or, as some have
pleased to term it, tliis Herculean labour, I was by some vir-
tuous friends persuaded that I should receive much comfort
and encouragement ; and for these reasons : First, it was a
new clear way, never before gone by any ; that it contained
all the delicacies, delights, and rarities of this renowned isle,
interwoven with the histories of the Britons, Saxons, Nor-
mans, and the later English. And further, that there is
scarcely any of the nobility or gentry of this land, but that
he is some way or other interested therein.
" But it hath fallen out otherwise ; for instead of that com-
fort which my noble friends proposed as my due, I have met
with barbarous ignorance and base detraction ; such a cloud
hath the devil drawn over the world's judgment. Some of
the stationers that had the selling of the first part of this
poem, because it went not so fast away in the selling as some
of their beastly and abominable trash (a shame both to our
language and our nation), have despightfuUy left out the
epistles to the readers, and so have cousened the buyers with
imperfected books, which those that have undertaken the
second part have been forced to amend in the first, for the
small number that are yet remaining in their hands.
" And some of our outlandish, unnatural English (I know
not how otherwise to express them) stick not to say that there
is nothing in this island worth studying for, and take a great
pride to be ignorant in anything thereof. As for these cattle,
odi prqfanu7n vulgus, et arceo ; of which I account them, be
they never so great."
Yet, as a true poet, whose impulse, like fate, overturns all
opposition, Drayton is not to be thrown out of his avocation ;
but intrepidly closes by promising " they shall not deter me
from going on with Scotland, if means and time do not hinder
me to perform as much as I have promised in my first song."
Who could have imagined that such bitterness of stvle, and
p2 "
212 Calamities of Authors.
such angry emotions, could have been raised in the breast of a
poet of pastoral elegance and fancy ?
Whose bounding muse o'er ev'ry mountain rode,
And every river warbled as it flow'd.
EiRKPATRICE.
It is melancholy to reflect that some of the greatest works
in our language have involved their authors in distress and
anxiety : and that many have gone down to their grave insen-
sible of that glory which soon covered it.
THE ILLUSIONS OF WRITERS IN VERSE.
Who would, with the awful severity of Plato, banish poets
from the Republic ? But it may be desirable that the Ee-
public should not be banished from poets, which it seems to
be when an inordinate passion for writing verses drives them
from every active pursuit. (There is no greater enemy to
Ar domestic quiet than a confirmed versifier ;)yet are most of
them much to be pitied : it is the mediocre critics they first
meet with who are the real origin of a populace of mediocre
poets. A young writer of verses is sure to get flattered by
those who affect to admire what they do not even under-
stand, and by those who, because they understand, imagine
they are likewise endowed with delicacy of taste and a critical
judgment. What sacrifices of social enjoyments, and all the
business of life, are lavished with a prodigal's ruin in an em-
ployment which will be usually discovered to be a source of
4- early anxiety, and of late disappointment !* I say nothing
of the ridicule in which it involves some wretched Msevius,
but of the misery that falls so heavily on him, and is often
* An elegant poet of our times alludes, with due feeling, to these per-
sonal sacrifices. Addressing Poetry, he exclaims —
•• In devotion to thy heavenly charms,
I clasp' d thy altar with my infant arms ;
For thee neglected the wide field of wealth ;
The toils of interest, and the sports of health."
How often may we lament that poets are too apt **to clasp the altar
with infant arms." Goldsmith was near forty when he published his
popular poems — and the greater number of the most valued poems were
produced in mature life. /When the poet begins in "infancy," he too
often contracts a habit of writing verses, and sometimes, in all his life,
^ never reaches poetryA
The Illusions of Writers iJi Verse, 213
entailed on his generation. Whitehead has versified an
admirable reflection of Pope's, in the preface to his works : —
For wanting wit be totally undone,
And baiT'd all arts, for having fail'd in one?
The great mind of Blackstois'e never showed him more a
poet than when he took, not without affection, " a farewell
of the Muse," on his being called to the bar. Deummond,
of Hawthornden, quitted the bar from his love of poetry ;
yet he seems to have lamented slighting the profession
which his father wished him to pursue. He perceives his
error, he feels even contrition, but still cherishes it : no man,
not in his senses, ever had a more lucid interval : —
I changed countries, new delights to find ;
But ah ! for pleasure I did find new pain;
Enchanting pleasure so did reason blind,
That father's love and words I scorn'd as vain.
I know that all the Muses' heavenly lays,
With toil of spirit which are so dearly bought,
As idle sounds of few or none are sought,
That there is nothing lighter than vain praise ;
Know what I list, this all cannot me move.
But that, alas ! I both must write and love !
Thus, like all poets, who, as Goldsmith observes, " are
fond of enjoying the present, careless of the future," he talks
like a man of sense, and acts like a fool.
(^This wonderful susceptibility of praise, to which poets
seem more liable than any other class of authors, is indeed
their common food ; and they could not keep life in them
without this nourishment. "^^ Nat. Lee, a true poet in all the
excesses of poetical feelings — for he was in such raptures at
times as to lose his senses — expresses himself in very ener-
getic language on the effects of the praise necessary for
poets : —
" Praise," says Lee, " is the greatest encouragement we
chamelions can pretend to, or rather the manna that keeps
soul and body together ; we devour it as if it were angels*
food, and vainly think we grow immortal. There is nothing
transports a poet, next to love, like commending in the right
place."
This, no doubt, is a rare enjoyment, and serves to
strengthen his illusions. But the same fervid genius else-
where confesses, when reproached for his ungoverned fancy,
that it brings with itself its own punishment : —
V
214 Calamities of Authors,
"I cannot be," says this great and unfortunate poet, "so
ridiculous a creature to any man as I am to myself ; for who
should know the house so well as the good man at home ?
who, when his neighbour comes to see him, still sets the best
rooms to view ; and, if he be not a wilful ass, keeps the rub-
bish and lumber in some dark hole, where nobody comes but
himself, to mortify at melancholy hours."
Study the admirable preface of Pope, composed at that
matured period of life when the fever of fame had passed
away, and experience had corrected fancy. It is a calm
statement between authors and readers ; there is no imagi-
nation that colours by a single metaphor, or conceals the real
feeling which moved the author on that solemn occasion, of
collecting his works for the last time. It is on a full review
of the past that this great poet delivers this remarkable
sentence : —
^ " Z believe J if any one, early in Ms life^ should contem-
plate the dangerous fate of authors, he would scarce he of
their number on any consideration. The life of a wit is a
warfare upon earth; and to pretend to serve the learned
world in any way, one must have the constancy of a martyr,
and a resolution to suffer for its sake." )
All this is so true in literary history, that he who affects
to suspect the sincerity of Pope's declaration, may flatter his
sagacity, but will do no credit to his knowledge.
\ii thus great poets pour their lamentations for having de-
voted themselves to their art, some sympathy is due to the
querulousness of a numerous race o^ provincial bards, whose
situation is ever at variance with their feelings. \These
usually form exaggerated conceptions of their own genius,
from the habit of comparing themselves with their contracted
circle. J Restless, with a desire of poetical celebrity, their
heated imagination views in the metropolis that fame and
fortune denied them in their native town ; there they be-
come half-hermits and half-philosophers, darting epigrams
which provoke hatred, or pouring elegies, descriptive of their
feelings, which move derision : their neighbours find it much
easier to ascertain their foibles than comprehend their
genius ; and both parties live in a state of mutual persecu-
tion. Such, among many, was the fate of the poet Hereick;
his vein was pastoral, and he lived in the elysium of the
West, which, however, he describes by the sullen epithet,
"Dull Devonshire," where "he is still sad." Strange that
The Illusions of Writers in Verse. 215
such a poet should have resided near twenty years in one of
our most beautiful counties in a very discontented humour.
When he quitted his village of " Deanbourne," the petulant
poet left behind him a severe " farewell," which was found
still preserved in the parish, after a lapse of more than a
century. Local satire has been often preserved by the very
objects it is directed against, sometimes from the charm of
the wit itself, and sometimes from the covert malice of
attacking our neighbours. Thus he addresses " Dean-
bourne, a rude river in Devonshire, by which, sometime, he
lived:"—
Dean-bourn, farewell !
Thy rockie bottom that doth tear thy streams,
And makes them frantic, e'en to all extremes,
Rockie thou art, and rockie we discover
Thy men, —
men ! manners ! —
people currish, churlish as their seas — ^"
He rejoices he leaves them, never to return till " rocks
shall turn to rivers." When he arrives in London,
From the dull confines of the drooping west,
To see the day-spring from the pregnant east,
he, " ravished in spirit," exclaims, on a view of the metro-
polis —
place ! people ! manners form'd to please
All nations, customs, kindreds, languages !
But he fervently entreats not to be banished again : —
For, rather than I'll to the west return,
I'll beg of thee first, here to have mine um.
The Devonians were avenged ; for the satirist of the
English Arcadia was condemned again to reside by "its
rockie side," among " its rockie men."
Such has been the usual chant of provincial poets ; and, if
the " silky- soft Favonian gales" of Devon, with its "Worthies,"
could not escape the anger of such a poet as Herrick, what
county may hope to be saved from the invective of querulous
and dissatisfied poets ?
In this calamity of authors I will show that a great poet
felicitated himself that poetry was not the business of his
life; and afterwards I will bring forward an evidence that
the immoderate pursuit of poetry, with a very moderate
216 Calamities of Authors.
genius, creates a perpetual state of illusion ; and pursues
grey-headed folly even to the verge of the grave.
Pope imagined that Prior was only fit to make verses,
and less qualified for business than Addison himself. Had
Prior lived to finish that history of his own times he was
writing, we should have seen how far the opinion of Pope was
right. Prior abandoned the Whigs, who had been his first
patrons, for the Tories, who were now willing to adopt the
political apostate. This versatility for place and pension
rather shows that Prior was a little more "quahfied for
business than Addison."
Johnson tells us " Prior lived at a time when the rage of
party detected all which was any man's interest to hide ;
and, as little ill is heard of Prior, it is certain that not much
was known :" more, however, than Johnson supposes. This
great man came to the pleasing task of his poetical bio-
graphy totally unprepared, except with the maturity of his
genius, as a profound observer of men, and an invincible
dogmatist in taste. In the history of the times, Johnson is
deficient, which has deprived us of that permanent instruction
and delight his intellectual powers had poured around it. The
character and the secret history of Prior are laid open in the
" State Poems ;"* a bitter Whiggish narrative, too particular
to be entirely fictitious, while it throws a new light on John-
son's observation of Prior's " propensity to sordid converse,
and the low dehghts of mean company," which Johnson had
imperfectly learned from some attendant on Prior.
A vintner's boy, the wretch was first preferr'd
To wait at Vice's gates, and pimp for bread ;
To hold the candle, and sometimes the door,
Let in the drunkard, and let out .
But, as to villains it has often chanc'd.
Was for his wit and wickedness advanc'd.
Let no man think his new behaviour strange,
No metamorphosis can nature change ;
Effects are chain'd to causes ; generally,
The rascal born will like a rascal die.
His Prince's favours follow'd him in vain;
They chang'd the circumstance, but not the man.
While out of pocket, and his spirits low,
He'd beg, write panegyrics, cringe, and bow ;
But when good pensions had his labours crown' d,
His panegyrics into satires tum'd ;
* Vol. ii. p. 355,
ITie Illusions of Writers in Verse, 217
what assiduous pains does Prior take
To let great Dorset see he could mistake !
Dissembling nature false description gave,
ShoVd him the poet, but conceal'd the knave.
To us the poet Prior is better known than the placeman
Prior ; yet in his own day the reverse often occurred. Prior
was a State Proteus ; Sunderland, the most ambiguous of
politicians, was the JErle Bohert to whom he addressed his
Mice; and Prior was now Secretary to the Embassy at
Eyswick and Paris ; independent even of the English am-
bassador — now a Lord of Trade, and, at length, a Minister
Plenipotentiary to Louis XIV.
Our business is with his poetical feelings.
Prior declares he was chiefly " a poet by accident ;" and
hints, in collecting his works, that " some of them, as they
came singly from the first impression, have lain long and
quietly in Mr. Tonson's shop." When his party had their
downfall, and he was confined two years in prison, he com-
posed his " Alma," to while away prison hours ; and when,
at length, he obtained his freedom, he had nothing remaining
but that fellowship which, in his exaltation, he had been
censured for retaining, but which he then said he might have
to live upon at last. Prior had great sagacity, and too right
a notion of human affairs in politics, to expect his party
would last his time, or in poetry, that he could ever derive a
revenue from rhymes !
I will now show that that rare personage, a sensible poet,
in reviewing his life in that hour of solitude when no passion
is retained but truth, while we are casting up the amount of
our past days scrupulously to ourselves, felicitated himself
that the natural bent of his mind, which inclined to poetry,
had been checked, and not indulged, throughout his whole
life. Prior congratulated himself that he had been only " a
poet by accident," not by occupation.
In a manuscript by Prior, consisting of "An Essay on
Learning," I find this curious and interesting passage entirely
relating to the poet himself: —
*' I remember nothing farther in life than that I made
verses ; I chose Guy Earl of Warwick for my first hero, and
killed Colborne the giant before I was big enough for West-
minster School. But I had two accidents in youth which
hindered me from being quite possessed with the Muse. I
was bred in a college where prose was more in fashion than
218 Calamities of Authors.
verse, — and, as soon as I had taken my first degree, I was
sent the King's Secretary to the Hague ; there I had enough
to do in studying French and Dutch, and altering my Teren-
tian and Virgilian style into that of Articles and Conven-
tions ; so that poetry, which hy the lent of my mind might
have hecome the business of my life, was, iy the happiness of
my education, only the amusement of it ; and in this, too,
having the prospect of some little fortune to be made, and
friendships to be cultivated with the great men, I did not
launch much into satire, which, however agreeable for the
present to the writers and encouragers of it, does in time do
neitlier of them good ; considering the uncertainty of for-
tune, and the various changes of Ministry, and that every
man, as he resents, may punish in his turn of greatness and
power."
Such is the wholesome counsel of the Solomon of Bards to
an aspirant, who, in his ardour for poetical honours, becomes
careless of their consequences, if he can but possess them.
I have now to bring forward one of those unhappy men of
rhyme, who, after many painful struggles, and a long que-
rulous life, have died amid the ravings of their immortality —
one of those miserable bards of mediocrity whom no beadle-
critic could ever whip out of the poetical parish.
There is a case in Mr. Haslam's " Observations on In-
sanity," who assures us that the patient he describes was
insane, which will appear strange to those who have watched
more poets than lunatics !
" This patient, when admitted, was very noisy, and im-
portunately talkative — reciting passages from the Greek and
Eoman poets, or talking of his own literary importance. He
became so troublesome to the other madmen, who were suf-
ficiently occupied with their own speculations, that they
avoided and excluded him from the common room ; so that he
was at last reduced to the mortifying situation of being the
sole auditor of his own compositions. He conceived himself
very nearly related to Anacreon, and possessed of the peculiar
vein of that poet."
Such is the very accurate case drawn up by a medical
writer. I can conceive nothing in it to warrant the charge
of insanity ; Mr. Haslam, not being a poet, seems to have
mistaken the common orgasm of poetry for insanity itself.
Of such poets, one was the late Peeciyal Stockdale,
who, with the most entertaining simplicity, has, in "The
The Illusions of Writers in Verse. 215
Memoirs of his Life and Writings," presented us with a full-
length figure of this class of poets; those whom the per-
petual pursuits of poetry, however indliferent, involve in a
perpetual illusion ; they are only discovered in their profound
obscurity by the piteous cries they sometimes utter ; they
live on querulously, which is an evil for themselves, and to no
purpose of life, which is an evil to others.
I remember in my youth Percival Stockdale as a con-
demned poet of the times, of whom the bookseller Flexney
complained that, whenever this poet came to town, it cost him
twenty pounds. Flexney had been the publisher of
Churchill's works ; and, never forgetting the time when he
published " The Eosciad," which at first did not sell, and
afterwards became the most popular poem, he was s^^ecu-
lating all his life for another Churchill, and another quarto
poem. Stockdale usually brought him what he wanted — and
Flexney found the workman, but never the work.
Many a year had passed in silence, and Stockdale could
hardly be considered alive, when, to the amazement of some
curious observers of our literature, a venerable man, about his
eightieth year, a vivacious spectre, with a cheerful voice,
seemed as if throwing aside his shroud in gaiety — to come to
assure us of the immortality of one of the worst poets of
the time.
To have taken this portrait from the life would have be6n
difficult ; but the artist has painted himself, and manufac-
tured his own colours ; else had our ordinary ones but faintly
copied this Chinese grotesque picture — the glare and the glow-
must be borrowed from his own palette.
Our self-biographer announces his " Life" with prospective
rapture, at the moment he is turning a sad retrospect on his
" Writings ;" for this was the chequered countenance of his
character, a smile while he was writing, a tear when he had
published ! " 1 know," he exclaims, " that this book will
live and escape the havoc that has teen made of my literary
fameT Again — " Before I die, I think my literary fame may
he fixed on OM adamantine foundation ^ Our old acquaint-
ance. Bias of Santillane, at setting out on his travels, con-
ceived himself to be la huitieme merveille du monde; but here
is one, who, after the experience of a long life, is writing a
large work to prove himself that very curious thing.
Wiiat were these mighty and unknown works ? Stock-
dale confesses that all his verses have been received with
220 Calamities of Authors,
negligence or contempt ; yet their mediocrity, the absolute
poverty of his genius, never once occurred to the poetical
patriarch.
I have said that the frequent origin of bad poets is owing
to bad critics ; and it was the early friends of Stockdale,
who, mistaking his animal spirits for genius, by directing
them into the walks of poetry, bewildered him for ever. It
was their hand that heedlessly fixed the bias in the rolling
bowl of his restless mind.
He tells us that while 3''et a boy of twelve years old, one
day talking with his father at Branxton, where the battle of
Flodden was fought, the old gentleman said to him with
great emphasis —
" You may make that place remarkable for your birth, if
you 'take care of yourself. My father's understanding was
clear and strong, and he could penetrate human nature. He
already saw that / had natural advantages above those of
common men^"*
But it seems that, at some earlier period even than his
twelfth year, some good-natured Pythian had predicted that
Stockdale would be " a poet." This ambiguous oracle was
still listened to, after a lapse of more than half a century,
and the decree is still repeated with fond credulity : — " Not-
withstanding," he exclaims, " all that is past ^ thou god of
n?y mind ! (meaning the aforesaid Pythian) I still hope that
my future fame will decidedly warrant the prediction /"
Stockdale had, in truth, an excessive sensibility of temper,
without any control over it — he had all the nervous contor-
tions of the Sybil, without her inspiration ; and shifting, in
his many-shaped life, through all characters and all pursuits,
" exalting the olive of Minerva with the grape of Bacchus,"
as he phrases it, he was a lover, a tutor, a recruiting officer, a
reviewer, and, at length, a clergyman ; but a poet eternally !
His mind was so curved, that nothing could stand steadily
upon it. The accidents of such a life he describes with such
a face of rueful simplicity, and mixes up so much grave drol-
lery and merry pathos with all he says or does, and his ubi-
quity is so wonderful, that he gives an idea of a character, of
whose existence we had previously no conception, that of a
sentimental harlequin.*
* My old favourite cynic, with all his rough honesty and acute discri-
mination, Anthony Wood, engraved a sketch of Stockdale when he etched
with his aqua-fortis the personage of a brother: — "This Edward Water-
The Illusions of Writers in Verse. 221
In the early part of his life, Stockdale undertook many
poetical pilgrimages ; he visited the house where Thomson
was born ; the coffee-room where Dry den presided among
the wits, &c. Recollecting the influence of these local asso-
ciations, he breaks forth, " Neither the unrelenting coldness,
nor the repeated insolence of mankind, can prevent me from
thinking that something like this enthusiastic devotion may
hereafter he paid to me."
Perhaps till this appeared it might not be suspected that
any unlucky writer of verse could ever feel such a magical
conviction of his poetical stability. Stockdale, to assist this
pilgrimage to his various shrines, has particularised all the
spots where his works were composed ! Posterity has many
shrines to visit, and will be glad to know (for perhaps it may
excite a smile) that " ' The Philosopher,' a poem, was written
in Warwick Court, Holborn, in 1769,"— "'The Life of
Waller,' in Round Court, in the Strand." — A good deal he
wrote in "May's Buildings, St. Martin's Lane," &c., but
" In my lodgings at Portsmouth, in St. Mary's Street, I
wrote my ' Elegy on the Death of a Lady's Linnet.' It will
not be uninteresting to sensibility, to thinking and elegant
minds. It deeply interested me, and therefore produced not
one of my weakest and worst written poems. It was directly
opposite to a noted house, which was distinguished by the name
of the green rails ; where the riotous orgies of Naxos and
Cythera contrasted with my quiet and purer occupations."
I would not, however, take his own estimate of his own
poems ; because, after praising them outrageously, he seems at
times to doubt if they are as exquisite as he thinks them !
He has composed no one in which some poetical excellence
does not appear — and yet in each nice decision he holds
with difficulty the trepidations of the scales of criticism — for
he tells us of " An Address to the Supreme Being," that "it
is distinguished throughout with a natural and fervid piety ;
it is flowing and poetical ; it is not without its pathos." And
yet, notwithstanding all this condiment, the confection is
evidently good for nothing ; for he discovers that " this
flowing, fervid, and poetical address " is " not animated with
that vigour which gives dignity and impression to poetry."
house wrote a rhapsodical, indigested, whimsical work ; and not in the
least to be taken into the hand of any sober scholar, unless it be to make
him laugh or wonder at the simplicity of some people. He was a cock-
brained man, and afterwards took orders."
222 Calamities of Authors,
One feels for such unhappy and infected authors — they would
think of themselves as they wish at the moment that truth
and experience come in upon them and rack them with the
most painful feelings.
Stockdale once wrote a declamatory life of Waller. "When
Johnson's appeared, though in his biography, says Stockdale,
" he paid a large tribute to the abihties of Goldsmith and
Hawkesworth, yet he made no mention of my name.'^ It is
evident that Johnson, who knew him well, did not care to
remember it. When Johnson was busied on the Life of Pope,
. Stockdale wrote a pathetic letter to him earnestly imploring
" a generous tribute from his authority." Johnson was still
obdurately silent ; and Stockdale, who had received many
acts of humane kindness from him, adds with fretful naivete^
" In his sentiments towards me he was divided between a
benevolence to my interests, and a coldness to myfamey
Thus, in a moment, in the perverted heart of the scribbler,
will ever be cancelled all human obligation for acts of benevo-
lence, if we are cold to his fame !
And yet let us not too hastily condemn these unhappy men,
even for the violation of the lesser moral feelings — it is often
but a fatal effect from a melancholy cause ; that hallucination
of the intellect, in which, if their genius, as they call it,
sometimes appears to sparkle like a painted bubble in the
buoyancy of their vanity, they are also condemned to see it
sinking in the dark horrors of a disappointed author, who has
risked his life and his happiness on the miserable productions
of his pen. The agonies of a disappointed author cannot,
indeed, be contemplated without pain. If the}' can instruct,
the following quotation will have its use.
Among the innumerable productions of Stockdale, was a
" History of Gibraltar," which might have been interesting,
from his having resided there : in a moment of despair, like
Medea, he immolated his unfortunate offspring.
" When I had arrived at within a day's work of its conclu-
sion, in consequence of some immediate and mortifying acci-
dents, my literary adversity, and all my other misfortunes,
took fast hold of my mind ; oppressed it extremely ; and
reduced it to a stage of the deepest dejection and despondency.
In this unhappy view of life, I made a sudden resolution —
never more to prosecute the profession of an author ; to retire
altogether from the world, and read only for consolation and
amusement. I committed to the flames ray History of Gib-
The Illusions of Writers in Verse, 223
raltar and my translation of Marsollier'^s Life of Cardinal
Ximenes ; for which the bookseller had refused to pay me the
fifty guineas, according to agreement."
This claims a tear ! Never were the agonies of literary dis-
appointment more pathetically told.
But as it is impossible to have known poor deluded Stock-
dale, and not to have laughed at him more than to have wept
for him — so the catastrophe of this author's literary life is as
finely in character as all the acts. That catastrophe, of
course, is his last poem.
After man}'^ years his poetical demon having been chained
from the world, suddenly broke forth on the reports of a
French invasion. The narrative shall proceed in his own
inimitable manner,
" My poetical spirit excited me to write my poem of ' The
Invincible Island.' I never found myself in a happier disposi-
tion to compose, nor ever wrote with more pleasure. I pre-
sumed warmly to hope that unless inveterate prejudice and
malice were as invincible as our island itself, it would have tlie
diffusive circulation which I earnestly desired.
" Fhished with this idea — borne impetuously along })y am-
hition and by hope, though they had often deluded me, I set
off in the mail-coach from Durham for London, on the 9th of
December, 1797, at midnight, and in a severe storm. On my
arrival in town my poem was advertised, printed, and published
with great expedition. It was printed for Clarke in New
Bond-street. For several days the sale was very promising ;
and my bookseller as well as myself entertained sanguine
hopes ; hut the demand for the poem relaxed gradually ! From
this last of many literary misfortunes, I inferred that prejudice
and malignity, in my fate as an author, seemed, indeed, to be
invincible."
The catastrophe of the poet is much better told than any-
thing in the poem, which had not merit enough to support
that interest which the temporary subject had excited.
Let the fate of Stockdale instruct some, and he will not
have written in vain the " Memoirs of his Life and Writings.'*
I have only turned the literary feature to our eye ; it was com-
bined with others, equally striking, from the same mould in
which that was cast. Stockdale imagined he possessed an
intuitive knowledge of human nature. He says, " everything
that constituted my nature, my acquirements, my habits, and
my fortune, conspired to let in upon me a complete knowledga
324 Calamities of Authors.
of human nature." A most striking proof of this knowledge
is his parallel, after the manner of Plutarch, between Charles
XII. and himself! He frankly confesses there were some
points in which he and the Swedish monarch did not exactly
resemble each other. He thinks, for instance, that the King
of Sweden had a somewhat more fervid and original genius
than himself, and was likewise a little more robust in his
person — but, subjoins Stockdale,
" Of our reciprocal fortune, achievements, and conduct, some
parts will be to his advantage, and some to miney
Yet in regard to Fame^ the main object between him and
Charles XII., Stockdale imagined that his own
" Will not probably take its fixed and immoveable station,
and shine with its expanded and permanent splendour, till it
consecrates his ashes, till it illumines his tomb !"
Pope hesitated at deciding on the durability of his poetry.
Peiob congratulates himself that he had not devoted all his
days to rhymes. Stockdale imagines his fame is to com-
mence at the very point (the tomb) where genius trembles its
own may nearly terminate !
To close this article, I could wish to regale the poetical
Stockdales with a delectable morsel of fraternal biography ;
such would be the life, and its memorable close, of Elkanah
Settle, who imagined himself to be a great poet, when he
was placed on a level with Dryden by the town-wits, (gentle
spirits !) to vex genius.
Settle's play of The Empress of Morocco was the very
first " adorned with sculptures."* However, in due time, the
* It was published in quarto in 1673, and has engravings of the prin-
cipal scene in each act, and a frontispiece representing the Duke's Theatre in
Dorset Gardens, where it was first acted publicly ; it had been played twice
at court before this, by noble actors, ' ' persons of such birth and honour, "
says Settle, "that they borrowed no greatness from the characters they
acted." The prologues were written by Lords Mulgrave and Rochester,
and the utmost eclat given to the five long acts of rhyming bombast, which
was declared superior to any work of Dryden's. As City Poet afterwardss
Settle composed the pageants, speeches, and songs for the Lord Mayor' -
Shows from 1691 to 1708. Towards the close of his career he became im,
poverished, and wrote from necessity on all subjects. One of his plays, com-
posed for Mrs. Mynns' booth in Bartholomew Fair, has been twice printed,
though both editions are now uncommonly rare. It is called the "Siege
of Troy ;" and its popularity is attested by Hogarth's print of South wark
Fair^ where outside of Lee and Harper's great theatrical booth is exhibited
a painting of the Trojan horse, and the announcement " The Siege of Troy
is here." — Ed.
The Illusions of Writers in Verse, 325
Whigs despising his rhymes, Settle tried his prose for the
Tories ; hut he was a magician whose enchantments never
charmed. He at length obtained the office of the city poet,
when lord mayors were proud enough to have lam'eates in their
annual pageants.
When Elkanah Settle published ^wj pa7'ty poem, he sent
copies round to the chiefs of the party, accompanied with
addresses, to extort pecuniary presents. He had latterly one
standard Elegy and Epitlialamium printed off with blanks,
which, by the ingenious contrivance of filling up with the
names of any considerable person who died or was married,
no one who was going out of life or entering it could jpass
scot-free from the tax levied hy his hacknied muse. The fol-
lowing letter accompanied his presentation copy to the Duke
of Somerset, of a poem, in Latin and English, on the Hanover
succession, when Elkanah wrote for the Whigs, as he had
for the Tories : —
" Sir, — Nothing but the greatness of the subject could
encourage my presumption in laying the enclosed Essay at
your Grace's feet, being, with all profound humility, your
Grace's most dutiful servant,
" E. Settle."
In the latter part of his life Settle dropped still lower, and
became the poet of a booth at Bartholomew Fair, and composed
drolls, for which the rival of Dryden, it seems, had a genius ! —
but it was little respected — for two great personages, " Mrs.
Mynns and her daughter, Mrs. Leigh," approving of their
grea,t poet's happy invention in one of his own drolls, " St.
George for England," of a green dragon, as large as life, in-
sisted, as the tyrant of old did to the inventor of the brazen
bull, that the first experiment should be made on the artist
himself, and Settle was tried in his own dragon ; he crept in
with all his genius, and did " act the dragon, enclosed in a
case of green leather of his own invention." The circumstance
is recorded in the lively verse of Young, in his " Epistle to
Pope concerning the authors of the age."
Poor Elkanab, all other changes past.
For bread in Smithfield dragons hiss'd at last,
Spit streams of fire to make the butchers gape,
And found his manners suited to his shape;
Such is the fate of talents misapplied,
So lived your prototype, and so he died.
Q
" ... /•' ■ '/ J)
QUARRELS OF AUTHORS;
OK,
SOME MEMOIRS FOR OUR LITERARY HISTORY.
" The use and end of this Work I do not so much design for curiosity, or satis-
faction of those that are the lovers of learning, but chiefly for a more grave and
serious purpose : which is, that it will make learned men wise in the use and admi-
nistration of learning." — Lord Bacoit, " Of Learning."
«j2
PREFACE.
The Quarrels of Authors may be considered as a con-
tinuation of the Calamities of Authors ; and both, as some
Memoirs for Literary History.
These Quarrels of Authors are not designed to wound the
Literary Character, but to expose the secret arts of calumny,
the mahgnity of witty ridicule, and the evil prepossessions of
unjust hatreds.
The present, like the preceding work, includes other subjects
than the one indicated by the title, and indeed they are both
subservient to a higher purpose — that of our Literary History.
There is a French work, entitled " Querelles Litteraires,"
quoted in " Curiosities of Literature," many years ago.
Whether I derive the idea of the present from the French
source I cannot tell. I could point out a passage in the great
Lord Bacon which might have afforded the hint. But I am
inclined to think that what induced me to select this topic
was the interest which Johnson has given to the literary
quarrels between Dryden and Settle, Dennis and Addison,
&c. ; and which Sir Walter Scott, who, amid the fresh
creations of fancy, could delve for the buried truths of research,
has thrown into his narrative of the quarrel of Dryden and
Luke Milboume.
From the French work I could derive no aid ; and my plan
is my own. I have fixed on each literary controversy to
illustrate some principle, to portray some character, and to
investigate some topic. Almost every controversy which
occurred opened new views. With the subject, the character
230 Preface.
of the author connected itself ; and with the character were
associated those events of his Hfe which reciprocally act on
each other. I have always considered an author as a human
being, who possesses at once two sorts of lives, the intellec-
tual and the vulgar : in his books we trace the history of his
mind, and in his actions those of human nature. It is this
combination which interests the philosopher and the man of
feeling ; which provides the richest materials for reflection ;
and all those original details which spring from the constituent
principles of man. Johnson's passion for literary history,
and his great knowledge of the human heart, inspired at
once the first and the finest model in this class of com-
position.
The Philosophy of Literary History was indeed the crea-
tion of Bayle. He was the first who, by attempting a criti'
cal dictionary^ taught us to think, and to be curious and vast
in our researches. He ennobled a collection of facts by his
reasonings, and exhibited them with the most miscellaneous
illustrations ; and thus conducting an apparently humble pur-
suit with a higher spirit, he gave a new turn to our studies.
It was felt through Europe ; and many celebrated authors
studied and repeated Bayle. This father of a numerous race
has an English as well as a French progeny.
Johnson wrote under many disadvantages; but, with
scanty means, he has taught us a great end. Dr. Birch was
the contemporary of Johnson. He excelled his predecessors ;
and yet he forms a striking contrast as a literary historian.
BiECH was no philosopher, and I adduce him as an instance
how a writer, possessing the most ample knowledge, and the
most vigilant cui-iosity — one practised in all the secret arts of
literary research in public repositories and in private collec-
tions, and eminently skilled in the whole science of biblio-
graphy — may yet fail with the public. The diligence of
BiECH has perpetuated his memory by a monument of MSS.,
but his touch was mortal to genius ! He pa^^ied the character
Preface, 231
which could never die ; heroes sunk pusillanimously under his
hand ; and in his torpid silence, even Milton seemed suddenly
deprived of his genius.
I have freely enlarged in the notes to this work ; a practice
which is objectionable to many, but indispensable perhaps in
this species of literary history.
The late Mr. Cumberland, in a conversation I once held
with him on this subject, triumphantly exclaimed, " You will
not find a single note through the whole volume of my ' Life.'
I never wrote a note. The ancients never wrote notes ; but
they introduced into their text all which was proper for the
reader to know."
I agreed with that elegant writer, that a fine piece of essay-
writing, such as his own "Life," required notes no more than
his novels and his comedies, among which it may be classed.
I observed that the ancients had no literary history; this
was the result of the discovery of printing, the institution of
national libraries, the general literary intercourse of Europe,
and some other causes which are the growth almost of our
own times. The ancients have written history without pro-
ducing authorities.
Mr. Ctjmbebland was then occupied on a review of Fox's
History ; and of Clarendon, which lay open before him, —
he had been complaining, with all the irritable feelings of a
dramatist, of the frequent suspensions, and the tedious minute-
ness of his story.
T observed that notes had not then been discovered. Had
Lord Clarendon known their use, he had preserved the unity
of design in his text. His Lordship has unskilfully filled it
with all that historical furniture his diligence had collected,
and with those minute discussions which his anxiety fortruth^
and his lawyer-like mode of scrutinising into facts and sub-
stantiating evidence, amassed. Had these been cast into
notes, and were it now possible to pass them over in the pre-
sent text, how would the story of the noble historian clear up I
232 Preface.
The greatness of his genius will appear when disencumbered
of its unwieldy and misplaced accompaniments.
If this observation be just, it will apply with greater force
to literary history itself, which, being often the mere history
of the human mind, has to record opinions as well as events —
to discuss as well as to narrate — to show how accepted truths
become suspicious — or to confirm what has hitherto rested in
obscure uncertainty, and to balance contending opinions and
opposite facts with critical nicety. The multiplied means of
our knowledge now opened to us, have only rendered our
curiosity more urgent in its claims, and raised up the most
diversified objects. These, though accessories to the leading
one of our inquiries, can never melt together in the continuity
of a text. It is to prevent all this disorder, and to enjoy all
the usefulness and the pleasure of this various knowledge,
which has produced the invention of notes in literary history.
All this forms a sort of knowledge peculiar to the present
more enlarged state of literature. Writers who delight in
curious and rare extracts, and in the discovery of new facts
and new views of things, warmed by a fervour of research
which brings everything nearer to our eye and close to our
touch, study to throw contemporary feelings in their page.
Such rare extracts and such new facts Batle eagerly sought,
and they delighted Johnson ; but all this luxury of literature
can only be produced to the Dublic eye in the variegated forms
of notes.
WARBURTON, AND HIS QUARRELS;
INCLUPINO AN ILLUSTRATION OP
HIS LITERARY CHARACTER.
The name of Warburton more familiar to us than his Worlcs — declared to
be "a Colossus" by a Warburtonian, who afterwards shrinks the image
into "a human size" — Lowth's caustic retort on his Attorneyship —
motives for the change to Divinity — his first literary miscihances — War-
burton and his Welsh Prophet — his Dedications — his mean flatteries — his
taste more struck by the monstrous than the beautiful — the effects of his
opposite studies — the Secret Principle which conducted Warburton
through all his Works — the curious argument of his Alliance between
Church and State — the bold paradox of his Divine Legation — the de-
monstration ends in a conjecture — Warburton lost in the labyrinth he
had ingeniously constructed — confesses the harassed state of his mind —
attacked by Infidels and Christians— his Secret Principle turns the
poetical narrative of -iEneas into the Eleusinian Mysteries — Hui-d attacks
Jortin ; his Attic irony translated into plain English — Warburton' s para-
dox on Eloquence ; his levity of ideas renders his sincerity suspected —
Leland refutes the whimsical paradox — Hurd attacks Leland — Leland's
noble triumph — Warburton's Secret Principle operating in Modei'n
Literature : on Pope's Essay on Man — Lord Bolingbroke the author of the
Essay— Pope received Warburton as his tutelary genius — Warburton's
systematic treatment of his friends and rival editors — his literary artifices
and little intrigues — his Shakspeare — the whimsical labours of Warbur-
ton on Shakspeare annihilated by Edwards's "Canons of Criticism" —
Warburton and Johnson — Edwards and Warburton's mutual attacks —
the concealed motive of his edition of Shakspeare avowed in his justifica-
tion — his Secret Principle further displayed in Pope's Works — attacks
Akenside ; Dyson's generous defence — correct Ridicule is a test of Truth,
illustrated by a well-known case — Warburton a literary revolutionist ;
aimed to be a perpetual dictator — the ambiguous tendency of his specu-
lations — the Warburtonian School supported by the most licentious prin-
ciples — specimens of its peculiar style — the use to which Warburton
applied the Dunciad — his party : attentive to raise recruits — the active
and subtle Hurd — his extreme sycophancy — Warburton, to maintain his
usurped authority, adopted his system of literary quarrels.
The name of Warbtjrton is more familiar to us than his
works : thus was it early,* thus it continues, and thus it will
* One of his lively adversai-ies, the author of the " Canons of Criticism,"
observed the difficulty of writing against an author whose reputation so
234 Quarrels of Authors, ^
be with posterity ! The cause may be worth our inquiry.
Nor is there, in the whole compass of our literary history, a
character more instructive for its greatness and its failures ;
none more adapted to excite our curiosity, and which can
more completely gratify it.
Of great characters, whose actions are well known, and of
those who, whatever claim they may have to distinction, are not
so, Aristotle has delivered a precept with his accustomed
sagacity. If Achilles, says the Stagirite, be the subject of our
inquiries, since all know what he has done, we are simply to
indicate his actions, without stopping to detail ; but this
would not serve for Critias ; for whatever relates to him
must be fully told, since he is known to few ;* — a critical
precept, which ought to be frequently applied in the compo-
sition of this work.
The history of Warburton is now well known, the facts lie
dispersed in the chronological biographer ;t but the secret
connexion which exists between them, if there shall be found
to be any, has not yet been brought out; and it is my busi-
ness to press these together; hence to demonstrate prin-
ciples, or to deduce inferences.
The literary fame of Warburton was a portentous meteor :
it seemedunconnected with the whole planetary system through
which it rolled, and it was imagined to be darting amid new
creations, as the tail of each hypothesis blazed with idle
fancies. J Such extraordinary natures cannot be looked on
with calm admiration, nor common hostility ; all is the
tumult of wonder about such a man ; and his adversaries, as
well as his friends, though differently affected, are often over-
come by the same astonishment.
To a Warburtonian, the object of his worship looks indeed
of colossal magnitude, in the glare thrown about that hal-
much exceeded the knowledge of Lis works. " It is my misfortune," says
Edwards, * ' in this controversy, to be engaged with a person who is better
known by his name than his works; or, to speak more properly, whose
works arc more known than read." — Preface to the Canons of Criticism.
* Aristotle's Rhetoric, B. III. c. 16.
t The materials for a *' Life of Warburton" have been arranged by Mr.
Nichols with his accustomed fidelity. — See his Literary Anecdotes.
J It is probable I may have drawn my meteor from our volcanic author
himself, who had his lucid moments, even in the deliriums of his imagina-
tion. Warburton has rightly observed, in his "Divine Legation," p. 203,
that ^'Systems, Schemes, Sind Hypotheses, all bred of heat, in the warm
regions of Controversy, like meteors in a troubled sky, have each its turn
to blaze &nd fly away."
TVarburton. 235
lowed spot ; nor is the divinity of common stature ; but the
light which makes him appear so great, must not be suffered
to conceal from us the real standard by which only his great-
ness can be determined :* even Hterary enthusiasm, dehghtful
to all generous tempers, may be too prodigal of its splendours,
wasting itself while it shines; but truth remains behind!
Truth, which, like the asbestos, is still unconsumed and un-
altered amidst these glowing fires.
The genius of Warburton has called forth two remarkable
* It seems, even by the confession of a Warburtonian, that his master
was of '* a human size ;" for when Bishop Lowth rallies the Warburtonians
for their subserviency and credulity to their master, he aimed a gentle
stroke at Dr. Brown, who, in his "Essays on the Characteristics," had
poured forth the most vehement panegyric. In his *' Estimate of Manners
of the Times, " too, after a long tirade of their badness in regard to taste
and learning, he thus again eulogizes his mighty master : — " Himself is
abused, and his friends insulted for his sake, by those who never read his
writings ; or, if they did, could neither taste nor comprehend them ; while
every little aspiring or despairing scribbler eyes him as Cassius did Cassar :
and whispers to his fellow —
* Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world ^
Like a Colossus ; and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.'
No wonder, then, if the malice of the Lilliputian tribe be bent against this
dreaded Gulliver ; if they attack him with poisoned arrows, whom they
cannot subdue by strength."
On this Lowth observes, that "this Lord Paramount in his pretensions
doth bestride the narrow world of literature, and has cast out his shoe
over all the regions of science." This leads to a ludicrous comparison of
Warburton, with King Pichrochole and his three ministers, who, in Urqu-
hart's admirable version of the French wit, are Count Merdaille, the
Duke of Smalltrash, and the Earl Swashbuckler, who set up for universal
monarchy, and made an imaginary expedition through all the quarters of
the world, as Rabelais records, and the bishop facetiously quotes. Dr.
Brown afterwards seemed to repent his panegyric, and contrives to make
his gigantic hero shrink into a moderate size. "I believe still, every little
aspiring fellow continues thus to eye him. For myself, I have ever con-
sidered him as a man, yet considerable among his species, as the following
part of the paragraph clearly demonstrates. I speak of him here as a
Gulliver indeed ; yet still of no more than human size, and only appre-
hended to be of colossal magnitude by certain of his Lilliputian enemies."
Thus subtilely would poor Dr. Brown save appearances ! It must be con-
fessed that, in a dilemma, never was a giant got rid of so easily ! — The
plain truth, however, was, that Brown was then on the point of quarrelling
with Warburton ; for he laments, in a letter to a friend, that " he had not
avoided all personal panegyric. I had thus saved myself the trouble of
setting right a character which I far over-painted." A part of this letter is
quoted in the "Biographia Britannica."
286 Quarrels of Authors.
anonymous criticisms — in one, all that the most splendid
eloquence can bring to bear against this chief and his
adherents ;* and in the other, all that taste, warmed by a
spark of Warburtonian fire, can discriminate in an impartial
decision. t Mine is a colder and less grateful task. I am
but a historian ! I have to creep along in the darkness of
human events, to lay my hand cautiously on truths so diffi-
cult to touch, and which either the panegyrist or the writer
of an invective cover over, and throw aside into corners.
* " Tracts by Warburton and a Warburtonian, not admitted into the
collections of their respective works," itself a collection which our shelves
could ill spare, though maliciously republished by Dr. Parr. The dedica-
tion by Parr stands unparalleled for comparative criticism. It is the
eruption of a volcano ; it sparkles, it blazes, and scatters light and destruc-
tion. How deeply ought we to regret that this Nazarite suffered his
strength to be shorn by the Delilahs of spurious fame. Never did this
man, with his gifted strength, grasp the pillars of a temple, to shake its
atoms over Philistines ; but pleased the child- like simplicity of his mind
by pulling down houses over the heads of their unlucky inhabitants. He
consumed, in local and personal literary quarrels, a genius which might
have made the next age his own. With all the stores of erudition, and all
the eloquence of genius, he mortified a country parson for his politics, and a
London accoucheur for certain obstetrical labours performed on Horace ;
and now his collected writings lie before us, volumes unsaleable and unread.
His insatiate vanity was so little delicate, as often to snatch its sweetmeat
from a foul plate ; it now appears, by the secret revelations in Griffith's
own copy of his "Mi>nthly Review," that the writer of a very ela))orate
article on the works of Dr. Parr, was no less a personage than the Doctor him-
self. His egotism was so declamatoiy, that it unnaturalized a great mind,
by the distortions of Johnsonian mimicry; his fiei-ceness, which was pushed
on to brutality on the unresisting, retreated with a child's terrors when
resisted ; and the pomp of petty pride in table triumphs and evening circles,
ill compensated for the lost century he might have made his own !
Lord o'er the greatest, to the least a slave.
Half- weak, half-strong, half-timid, and half-brave ;
To take a compliment of too much pride.
And yet most hurt when praises are denied.
Thou art so deep discerning, yet so blind.
So learn' d, so ignorant, cruel, yet so kind ;
So good, so bad, so foolish, and so wise ; —
By turns I love thee, and by turns despise.
MS. Anon, (said to be by the late Dr. Homer.)
+ The "Quarterly Review," vol. vii. p. 383. — So masterly a piece of
criticism has rarely surprised the public in the leaves of a periodical publi-
cation. It comes, indeed, with the feelings of another age, and the remi-
niscences of the old and vigorous school. I cannot implicitly adopt all the
sentiments of the critic, but it exhibits a highly-finished portrait, enamelled
by the love of the artist. — This article was written by the late Dr.Whitaker,
the historian of Craven, &c.
War burton, 237
Much of the moral, and something too of the physical dis-
positions of the man enter into the literary character ; and,
moreover, there are localities — the place where he resides,
the circumstances which arise, and the habits he contracts ;
to all these the excellences and the defects of some of our
great literary characters may often he traced. With this
clue we may thread our way through the labyrinth of
Genius.
Warburton long resided in an obscure provincial town,
the articled clerk of a country attorney,* and then an unsuc-
* When Warburton, sore at having been refused academical honours at
Oxford, which were offered to Pope, then his fellow-traveller, and who, in
consequence of this refusal, did himself not accept them — in his controversy
with Lowth (then the Oxford Professor), gave way to his angry spirit, and
struck at the University itself, for its political Jesuitism, being a place
where men "were taught to distinguish between de facto and de jure,"
caustic was the retort, Lowth, by singular felicity of application, touched
on Warburton' s original designation, in a character he hit on in Clarendon.
After remonstrating with spirit and dignity on this petulant attack, which
was not merely personal, Lowth continues : — "Had I not your lordship's
example to justify me, I should think it a piece of extreme impertinence to
inquire where you were bred ; though one might justly plead, in excuse for
it, a natural curiosity to know where and how such a phenomenon was pro-
duced. It is commonly said that your lordship's education was of that
particular kind, concerning which it is a remark of that great judge of men
and manners. Lord Clarendon (on whom you have, therefore, with a won-
derful happiness of allusion, justness of application, and elegance of expres-
sion, conferred 'the unrivalled title of the Chancellor of Human Nature'),
that it peculiarly disposes men to be proud, insolent, and pragmatical."
Lowth, in a note, inserts Clarendon's character of Colonel Harrison : "He
had been bred up in the place of a clerk, under a lawyer of good account in
those parts ; which kind of education introduces men into the language and
practice of business ; and if it be not resisted by the great ingenuity of the
person, inclines young men to more pride than any other kind of breeding,
and disposes them to be pragmatical and insolent." "Now, my lord
(Lowth continues), as you have in your whole behaviour, and in all your
w^-itiugs, remarkably distinguished yourself by your humility, lenity, meek-
ness, forbearance, candour, humanity, civility, decency, good manners,
good temper, moderation with regard to the opinions of others, and a
modest diffidence of your own, this unpromising circumstance of your edu-
cation is so far from being a disgrace to you, that it highly redounds to
your praise." — LowtKs Letter to the Author of the D. L. p. 63.
Was ever weapon more polished and keen ? This Attic style of contro-
versy finely contrasts with the tasteless and fierce invective of the Warbur-
tonians, although one of them is well known to have managed too adroitly
the cutting instrument of irony ; but the frigid malignancy of Hurd
diminishes the pleasure we might find in his skill. Warburton ill concealed
his vexation in the contempt he vented in a letter to Hurd on this occasion.
" All you say about Lowth's pamphlet breathes the purest spirit of friend-
ship. His loit and his reasoning, God knows, and I also, (as a certain
238 Quarrels of Authors,
cessful practising one. He seems, too, once to have figured
as " a wine-merchant in the Borough," and rose into notice
as " the orator of a disputing club ;" but, in all his shapes,
still keen in literary pursuits, without literary connexions ;
struggling with all the defects of a desultory and self-taught
education, but of a bold aspiring character, he rejected, either
in pride or in despair, his little trades, and took Deacon's
orders — to exchange a profession, unfavourable to continuity
of study, for another more propitious to its indulgence.* In
critic said once in a matter of the like great importance), are much below
the qualities that deserve those names." — He writes too of "this man's
boldness in publishing his letters." — *'If he expects an answer, he will
certainly find himself disappointed ; though I believe I could make as good
sport with this devil of a vice, for the public diversion, as ever was made
with him in the old Moralities." — But Warburton did reply ! Had he ever
possessed one feeling of taste, never would he have figured the elegant
Lowth as this grotesque personage. He was, however, at that moment
sharply stung !
This circumstance of Attorneyship was not passed over in Mallet's
*' Familiar Epistle to the Most Impudent Man Living." Comparing, in the
spirit of "familiarity," Arnall, an impudent scribbling attorney and poli-
tical scribe, with Warburton, he says, " You have been an attorney as well
as he, but a little more impudent than he was ; for Arnall never presumed
to conceal his turpitude under the gown and the scaif." But this is mere
invective !
* I have given a tempered opinion of his motive for this sudden conver-
sion from Attorneyship to Divinity ; for it must not be concealed, in our
inquiry into Warburton's character, that he has frequently been accused of
a more worldly one. He was so fierce an advocate for some important
causes he undertook, that his sincerity has been liable to suspicion ; the
pleader, in some points, certainly acting the part of a sophist. Were we
to decide by the early appearances of his conduct, by the rapid change of
his profession, by his obsequious servility to his country squire, and by
what have been termed the hazardous "fooleries in criticism, and outrages
in controversy," which he systematically pursued, he looks like one not in
earnest, and more zealous to maintain the character of his own genius,
than the cause he had espoused. Leland once exclaimed, * ' What are we
to think of the writer and his intentions ? Is he really sincere in his.
reasonings ?" Certain it is, his paradoxes often alarmed his friends, to
repeat the words of a great critic, by "the absurdity of his criticism, the
heterodoxy of his tenets, and the brutality of his invectives." Our Juvenal,
who, whatever might be the vehemence of his declamation, reflected
always those opinions which floated about him, has drawn a full-length
figure. He accounts for Warburton's early motive in taking the cassock,
as being
** thereto drawn
By some faint omens of the Lawn,
And on the truly Christian plan,
To make himseli' a gentleman ;
Warburton, 239
a word, he set off as a literary adventurer, who was to win
his way by earning it from patronage.
His first mischances were not of a nature to call forth that
intrepidity which afterwards hardened into the leading
feature of his character. Few great authors have begun their
A title, in which Form arrayed him,
Tho' Fate ne'er thought of when she made him.
To make himself a man of note,
He in defence of Scripture wrote :
So long he wrote, and long about it,
That e'en believers 'gan to doubt it.
He wrote too of the Holy Ghost ;
Of whom, no more than doth a post.
He knew ; nor, should an angel show him,
Would he or know, or choose to know him."
Churchill's "Duellist.'*
I would not insinuate that Warburton is to be ranked among the class
he so loudly denounced, that of "Free-thinkers;" his mind, warm with
imagination, seemed often tinged with credulity. But from his want of
sober-mindedness, we cannot always prove his earnestness in the cause he
advocated. He often sports with his fancies ; he breaks out into the most
familiar levity ; and maintains, too broadly, subtile and refined principles,
which evince more of the political than the primitive Christian. It is cer-
tain his infidelity was greatly suspected ; and Hurd, to pass over the stigma
of Warburton's sudden conversion to the Church, insinuates that " an early
seriousness of mind determined him to the ecclesiastical profession." — "It
may be so," says the critic in the " Quarterly Review," no languid admirer
of this great man; *'but the symptoms of that seriovsness were very
equivocal afterwards ; and the certainty of an early provision, from, a
generous patron in the country, may perhaps be considered by those who
are disposed to assign human conduct to ordinary motives, as quite adequate
to the effect."
Dr. Parr is indignant at such surmises ; but the feeling is more honour-
able than the decision ! In an admirable character of Warburton in the
"Westminster Magazine" for 1779, it is acknowledged, " at his outset in
life he was suspected of being inclined to infidelity ; and it was not till
many years had elapsed, that the orthodoxy of his opinions was generally
assented to." On this Dr. Parr observes, "Why Dr. Warburton was ever
suspected of secret infidelity I know not. What he was inclined to think
on subjects of religion, before, perhaps, he had leisure or ability to exa-
mine them, depends only upon obscure surmise, or vague report." The
words inclined to thinJc seems a periphrase for secret infidelity. Oiir critic
attributes these reports to "an English dunce, whose blunders and
calumnies are now happily forgotten, and repeated by a French buffoon,
whose morality is not commensurate with his wit." — Tracts by Warburton,
&c., p. 186.
"The English Dunce" I do not recollect; of this sort there are so
many ! Voltaire is * ' the French buffoon ;" who, indeed, compares War-
burton in his bishopric, to Peachum in the Beggar's Opera — 'Who, as Keeper
of Newgate, was for hanging all his old accomplices !
2i0 Quarrels of Authors.
race with less auspicious omens, though an extraordinary
event in the life of an author happened to Warburton — l.e
had secured a patron before he was an author.
The first pubHcation of his which we know, was his
"Translations in Prose and Verse from Roman Poets, Oratois,
and Historians." 1724. He was then about twenty-five
years of age. The fine forms of classic beauty could never
be cast in so rough a mould as his prose ; and his turgid
unmusical verses betrayed qualities of mind incompatible with
the delicacy of poetry. Four years afterwards he repeated
another bolder attempt, in his " Critical and Philosophical
Inquiry into the Causes of Prodigies and Miracles." After
this publication, I wonder Warburton was ever suspected of
infidelity or even scepticism.* So radically deficient in War-
* Warburton was far more extravagant in a later attempt which he made
to expound the odd visions of a crack-brained Welshman, a prophesying
knave ; a knave by his own confession, and a prophet by Warburton' s.
This commentary, inserted in Jortin's " Remarks on Ecclesiastical His-
tory," considerably injured the reputation of Jortin. The story of War-
burton and his Welsh Prophet would of itself be sufficient to detect the
shiftings and artifices of his genius. Rice or Arise Evans ! was one of the
many prophets who rose up in Oliver's fanatical days ; and Warburton had
the hardihood to insert, in Jortin's learned work, a strange commentary to
prove that Arise Evans, in Cromwell's time, in his " Echo from Heaven,"
had manifestly ^rop^med the Hanoveriaji Succession/ The Welshman
was a knave by his own account in subscribing with his right hand the con-
fession he calls his prophecy, before a justice, and with his left, that which
was his recantation, signed before the recorder, adding, ' ' I know the
bench and the people thought I recanted ; but, alas ! they were deceived ;"
and this Warburton calls " an uncommon fetch of wit," to save the truth
of the prophecy, though not the honour of the prophet. If Evans nieant
anything, he meant what was then floating in all men's minds, the probable
restoration of the Stuarts. By this prelude of that inver.tive genius which
afterwards commented, in the same spirit, on the ^neid of Virgil, and the
*' Divine Legation, itself," and made the same sort of discoveries, he
fixed himself in this dilemma ; either Wa. burton was a greater impostor
than Arise Evans, or he was more credulous than even any follower of the
Welsh prophet, if he really had any. But the truth is, that Warburton
was always writing for a present purpose, and believed, and did not believe,
as it happened. " Oiiinary men believe 07ie side of a contradiction at a
time, whereas his lordship" (says his admirable antagonist) " frequently be-
lieves, or at least defends both. So that it would have been no great
wonder if he should maintain that Evans was both a real prophet and an
impostor." Yet this is not the only awkward attitude into which Warburton
has here thrown himself. To strain the vision of the raving Welshman to
events of which he could have no notion, Warburton has plunged into the
most ludicrous difficulties, all which ended, as all his discoveries have done,
in making the fortxme of an adversary who, like the Momus of Homer,
TFarburfon, 241
burton was that fine internal feeling which we call taste, that
through his early writings he acquired not one solitary charm
of diction,* and scarcely betrayed, amid his impurity of
taste, that nerve and spirit which afterwards crushed all rival
force. His translations in imitation of Milton's style betray
his utter want of ear and imagination. He attempted to
suppress both these works during his lifetime.
^When these unlucky productions were republished by Dr.
Parr, the Dedications were not forgotten ; they were both
addressed to the same opulent baronet, not omitting " the
virtues" of his lad}^ the Countess of Sunderland, whose mar-
riage he calls " so divine a union." Warburton had shown
no want of judgment in the choice of his patrons; for they
had more than one living in their gift — and perhaps, knowing
his patrons, none in the dedications themselves. They had,
however, this absurdity, that in freely exposing the servile
practices of dedicators, the writer was himself indulging in
that luxurious sin, which he so forcibly terms " Public Pros-
titution." This early management betrays no equivocal
symptoms of that traffic in Dedications, of which he has been
has raised throngli the skies "inextinguishable laughter," in the amusing
tract of "Confusion worse Confoundea, Rout on Rout, or the Bishop of
G ^% Commentary on Arise Evans ; by ludignatio." 1772. The writer
was the learned Henry Taylor, the author of Ben Mordecai's Apology.
* The correct taste of Lowth with some humour describes the last sen-
tence of the "Enquiry on Prodigies'" as "the Musa Pedestris got on
horseback in a high prancing style." He printed it in measured lines,
without, however, changing the place of a single word, and it produced
blank verse. Thus it reads —
" Methinks I see her like the mighty Eagle
renewing her immortal youth, and purging
her opening sight at the unobstructed beams
of our benign meridian Sun," &c.
Such a glowing metaphor, in the uncouth prose of Warburton, startled
Lowth' s classical ear. It was indeed "the Musa Pedestris who had got
on horseback in a high prancing style ;" for as it has since been pointed
oat, it is a well-known passage towards the close of the Areopagitica of
Milton, whose prose is so often purely poetical. See Birch's Edition of
Milton's Prose Works, I. 158. Warburton was familiarly conversant witii
our great vernacular writers at a time when their names generally were
better known than their works, and when it was considered safe to pillage
their most glorious passages. Warburton has been convicted of snatching
their purple patches, and sewing them into his coarser web, without any
acknowledgment ; he did this in the present remarkable instance, and at a
later day, in the preface to his " Julian," he laid violent bands on one of
Raleigh's splendid metaphors.
B
242 Quarrels of Authors,
so severely accused,* and of that paradoxical turn and hardy-
effrontery which distinguished his after-life. These dedications
led to preferment, and thus hardily was laid the foundation-
stone of his aspiring fortunes.
* When Warburton was considered as a Colossus of literature, Ralph,
the political writer, pointed a severe allusion to the awkward figure he
makes in these Dedications. "The Colossus himself creeps between the
legs of the late Sir Robert Sutton ; in what posture, or for what pui'pose,
need not be explained,"
Churchill has not passed by unnoticed Warburton's humility, even ta
weakness, combined with pride which could rise to haughtiness.
" He was so proud, that should he meet
The twelve apostles in the street,
He'd turn his nose up at them all,
And shove his Saviour from the wall."
Yet this man
** Fawned through all his life
For patrons first, then for a wife ;
Wrote Dedications, which must make
The heart of every Christian quake."
The Duellist.
It is certain that the proud and supercilious Warburton long crouched
and fawned. Mallet, at least, well knew all that passed between War-
burton and Pope. In the " Familiar Epistle" he asserts that Warburton
was introduced to Pope by his "nauseous flattery." A remarkable in-
stance, besides the dedications we have noticed, occurred in his correspon-
dence with Sir Thomas Hanraer. He did not venture to attack "The
Oxford Editor," as he sarcastically distinguishes him, without first de-
manding back his letters, which were immediately returned, from Sir
Thomas's high sense of honour. Warburton might otherwise have been
shown strangely to contradict himself, for in these letters he had been most
lavish of his flatteries and encomiums on the man whom he covered with
ridicule in the preface to his Shakspeare. See "An Answer to certain
Passages in Mr. W.'s Preface to Shakspeare," 1748.
His dedication to the plain unlettered Ralph Allen of Bath, his greatest
of patrons, of his * ' Commentary on Pope's Essay on Man, " is written in
the same spirit as those to Sir Robert Sutton ; but the former unlucky gen-
tleman was more publicly exposed by it. The subject uf this dedication turns
on " the growth and progress of Fate, divided into four principal branches !"
There is an episode about Free-will and Nature and Grace, and "a con-
trivance of Leibnitz about Fatalism.'''' Ralph Allen was a good Quaker-
like man, but he must have lost his temper if he ever read the dedication !
Let us not, however, imagine that Warburton was at all insensible to this
violation of literary decorum ; he only sacrificed propriety to what he con-
sidered a more urgent principle — his own personal interest. No one had a
juster conception of the true nature of dedications; for he says*in the
famous one "to the Free-thinkers :" — " I could never r.pprove the custom
of dedicating books to men whose professions made them strangers to the sub-
ject. A Discourse on the Ten Predicaments to a Leader of Armies, or a System
of Casuistry to a Minister of State, always appeared to me a high absurdity."
All human characters are mixed — true ! yet still we feel indignant to dis-
Warburton, 243
Till his thirtieth year, Warburton evinced a depraved taste,
but a craving appetite for knowledge. His mind was consti-
tuted to be more struck by the Monstrous than the Beautiful,
much like that Sicilian prince who furnished his villa with
the most hideous figures imaginable :* the delight resulting
from harmonious and delicate forms raised emotions of too
weak a nature to move his obliquity of taste ; roused, how-
ever, by the surprise excited by colossal ugliness. The disco-
very of his intellectual tastes, at this obscure period of his
life, besides in those works we have noticed, is confirmed by
one of the most untoward accidents which ever happened to
a literary man ; it v/as the chance-discovery of a letter he had
written to one of the heroes of the Dunciad, forty years be-
cover some of the greatest often combining the most opposite qualities;
and then they are not so much mixed as the parts are naturally joined
together. Could one imagine that so lofty a character as Warburton could
have been liable to have incurred even the random stroke of the satirist ?
•whether true or false, the events of his life, better known at this day than
in his own, will show. Churchill says that
**He could cringe and creep, be civil,
And hold a stirrup to the devil.
If, in a journey to his mind.
He'd let him mount, and ride behind,"
The author of the "Canons of Criticism," with all his sprightly sar-
casm, gives a history of Warburton's later Dedications. "The first edi-
tion of * The Alliance' came out without a dedication, but was presented
to the bishops ; and when nothing came of that, the second was addressed
to both the Universities ; and when nothing came of that, the third was
dedicated to a noble Earl, and nothing has yet come of that." Appendix
to ** Canons of Criticism," seventh edit. 261.
* The palace here alluded to is fully described in a volume of *' Travels
through Sicily and Malta," by P. Brydone, F.R.S., in 1770. He describes
it as belonging to "the Prince of Palermo, a man of immense fortune,
who has devoted his whole life to the study of monsters and chimeras,
greater and more ridiculous than ever entered into the imagination of the
wildest writers of romance and knight-errantry." He tells us this palace
was surrounded by an army of statues, "not one made to represent any
object in nature. He has put the heads of men to the bodies of every
sort of animal, and the heads of every other animal to the bodies of men.
Sometimes he makes a compound of five or six animals that have no
sort of resemblance in nature. He puts the head of a lion on the neck
of a goose, the body of a lizard, the legs of a goat, the tail of a fox ; on
the back of this monster he puts another, if possible still more hideous,
with, five or six heads, and a bush of horns. There is no kind of horn in
the world he has not collected, and his pleasure is to see them all flourish-
ing upon the same head ." The interior of the house was decorated in the
same monstrous style, and the description, unique of its kind, occupies seve-
ral pages of Mr. Brydone's book. — Ed.
b2
244 Quarrels of Authors.
fore. At the time that letter was written, his literary con-
nexions were formed with second-rate authors ; he was Ik
strict intimacy with Concanen and Theobald, and other " in-
genious gentlemen who made up our last night's conversa-
tion," as he expresses himself.* This letter is full of the
heresies of taste : one of the most anomalous is the comment
on that well-known passage in Shakspeare, on " the genius
and the mortal instruments;" Warburton's is a miraculous
specimen of fantastical sagacity and critical delirium, or the
art of discovering meanings never meant, and of illustrations
the author could never have known. Warburton declares
to " the ingenious gentlemen," (whom afterwards with a
Pharaoh's heart he hanged by dozens to posterity in the
"Dunciad,") that" Pope borrowed for want of genius ;" that
poet, who, when the day arrived, he was to comment on as
the first of poets ! His insulting criticisms on the popular
writings of Addison, — his contempt for what Young calls
" sweet elegant Virgilian prose,"- — show how utterly insen-
sible he was to that classical taste in which Addison had
constructed his materials. But he who could not taste the
delicacy of Addison, it may be imagined might be in raptures
with the rant of Lee. There is an unerring principle in the
false sublime : it seems to be governed by laws, though they
* This letter was written in 1726, and first found by Tr, Knight in
1750, in fitting up a house where Concanen had probably lodged. It was
suppressed, till Akenside, in 1766, printed it in a sixpenny pamphlet,
entitled "An Ode to Mr. Edwards." He preserved the curiosity, with
"all its peculiarities of grammar, spelling, and punctuation. " The insulted
poet took a deep revenge for the contemptuous treatment he had received
from the modern Stagirite. The "peculiarities" betray most evident marks
of the self-taught lawyer ; the orthography and the double letters were
minted in the office. [Thus he speaks of Addison as this ' * exact Mr. of
propriety," and of his own studies of the English poets "to trace them to
their sources ; and observe what oar, as well as what slime and gravel
they brought down with them."] When I looked for the letter in Alcen-
side's Works, I discovered that it had been silently dropped. Soxne interest,
doubtless, had been made to suppress it, for Warburton was humbled when
reminded of it. Malone, fortunately, has preserved it in his Shakspeare,
where it may be found, in a place not likely to be looked into for it, at the
close of Julius Ccesar : this literary curiosity had otherwise been lost for
posterity ; its whole history is a series of wonderful escapes.
By this document we became acquainted with the astonishing fact, that
Warburton, early in life, was himself one of those very dunces whom he
has so unmercifully registered in their Doomsday-book ; one who admired
the genius of his brothers, and spoke of Pope with the utmost contempt !
[Thus he says, "Dryden, I observe, borrows for want of leisure, and
Pope for want of genius !"]
Warburton. 2 15
are not ours ; and we know what it will like, that is, we
know what it will mistake for what ought not to be liked, as
surely as we can anticipate what will delight correct taste.
Warburton has pronounced one of the raving passages of poor
Nat " to contain not only the most sublime, but the most
judicious imagery that poetry could conceive or paint."
Joseph Warton, who indignantly rejects it from his edition
of Pope, asserts that " we have not in our language a more
striking example of true turgid expression, and genuine fustian
and bombast."* Yet such was the man whom ill-fortune
(for the public at lea^t) had chosen to become the commen-
tator of our greater poets ! Again Churchill throws light on
our character: —
He, with an all-sufficient air
Places himself in the critic's chair,
And wrote, to advance his Maker's praise,
Comments on rhymes, and notes on plays —
A judge of genius, though, confest,
With not one spark of genius blest :
Among the first of critics placed,
Though free from every taint of taste.
Not encouraged by the reception his first literary efforts
received, but having obtained some preferment from his
patron, we now come to a critical point in his life. He re-
treated from the world, and, during a seclusion of near twenty
years, persevered in uninterrupted studies. The force of his
character placed him in the first order of thinking beings.
This resolution no more to court the world for literary
favours, but to command it by hardy preparation for mighty
labours, displays a noble retention of the appetite for fame ;
Warburton scorned to be a scribbler !
Had this great man journalised his readings, as Gibbon has
* Lee introduces Alexander the Great, saying,
"When Glory, like the dazzling eagle, stood
Perch'd on my beaver in the Granic flood,
When Fortune's self my standard trembling bore,
And the pale Fates stood frighted on the shore ;
When the Immortals on the billows rode,
And I myself appear'd the leading god !"
In the province of taste Warburton was always at sea without chart or
compass, and was as unlucky in his panegyric on Milton as on Lee. He
calls the " Paradise Regained" "a charming poem, nothing hiferior in
tne poetry and the sentiments to the Paradise Lost." Such extravagance
could only have proceeded from a critic too little sensible to the essential
requisites of poetry itself.
246 Quarrels of Authors.
done, we should perhaps he more astonislied at his miscella-
neous pursuits. He read everything, and, I suspect, with
little distinction, and equal delight.* Curiosity, even to its
delirium, was his first passion ; which produced those new
systems of hj^pothetical reasoning by which he startled the
world ; and his efforts to save his most ingenious theories
from absurdity resembled, to use his own emphatic words
applied to the philosophy of Leibnitz, " a contrivance against
Fatalism," for though his genius has given a value to the
wildest paradoxes, paradoxes they remain.
* Such opposite studies shot themselves into the most fantastical forma
in his rocket-writings, whether they streamed in " The Divine Legation," or
sparkled in "The Origin of Romances," or played about in giving double
senses to Virgil, Pope, and Shakspeare. Churchill, with a good deal of
ill-natui-e and some truth, describes them : —
"A curate first, he read and read,
And laid in, while he should have fed
The souls of his neglected flock,
Of reading, such a mighty stock,
That he overcharged the weary brain
With more than she could well contain ;
More than she was with spirit fraught
To turn and methodise to thought ;
And which, like ill-digested food.
To humours turrid, and not to hlood"
The opinion of Bentley, when he saw "The Divine Legation," was a
sensible one, " This man," said he, "has a monstrous appetite, with a
very bad digestit/fl."
The Warburtonians seemed to consider his great work, as the Bible by
which all literary men were to be sworn. Lowth ridicules their credulity.
" ' The Divine Legation,' it seems, contains in it all knowledge, divine and
human, ancient and modern : it is a perfect Encyclopaedia, including all
history, criticism, divinity, law, politics, from the law of Moses down to
the Jew bill, and from Egyptian hieroglyphics to modern ilebus-writing,
&c."
" In the 2014 pages of the unfinished 'Divine Legation,' " observes the
sai'castic Gibbon, "four hundred authors are quoted, from St. Austin
down to Scarron and Kabelais !"
Yet, after all that satire and wit have denounced, listen to an enlight-
ened votary of Warburton. He asserts that "The ' Dinne Legation' has
taken its place at the head, not to say of English theology, but almost of
English literature. To the composition of this prodigious performance,
Hooker and Stillingfleet could have contributed the erudition, Chilling-
worth and LcOKE the acuteness, Taylor an imagination even more wild
and copious, Swift, and perhaps, Eachaed, the sarcastic vein of wit ;
but what power of understanding, except Warburton's, could first have
amassed all these materials, and then compacted them into a buikv
and elaborate work, so consistent and harmonious," — Quarterly Revltw,
rol. vii.
Warburton. 24<7
But if Warburton read so much, it was not to enforce
opinions already furnished to his hands, or with cold scepti-
cism to reject them, leaving the reader in despair. He read '
that he might write what no one else had written, and which
at least required to be refuted before it was condemned. He
hit upon a secret principle, which prevails through all his
works, and this was Invention^ ; a talent, indeed, somewhat
dangerous to introduce in researches where Truth, and not
Fancy, was to be addressed. But even with all this origi-
nality he was not free from imitation, and has even been
accused of borrowing largely without hinting at his obliga-
tions. He had certainly one favourite model before him :
Warburton has delineated the portrait of a certain author
with inimitable minuteness, while hecaup^ht its general effect ;
we feel that the artist, in tracing the resemblance of another,
is inspired by all the flattery of a self-painter — he perceived
the kindred features, and he loved them !
This author was Batle ! And I am unfolding the cha-
racter of Warburton, in copying the very original portrait : —
"Mr. Bayle is of a quite different character from these Italian
sophists : a writer, whose strength and clearness of reasoning
can be equalled only by the gaiety, easiness, and delicacy of his
wit; vjJio, pervading human nature with a glance, struck
INTO IHE proyince OF PARADOX, as an exercise for the
restless vigour of his mind : who, with a soul superior to the
sharpesb attacks of fortune, and a heart practised to the best
philosophy, had not yet enough of real greatness to overcome
that lad foible of superior geniuses, the temptation of
honour, which the Academic Exercise or Wit is con-
ceived to bring to its professors."*
Here, then, we discover the secret principle which
conducted Warburton throuo^h all his works, although of the
most opposite natures. I do not give this as an opinion to
be discmsed, but as a fact to be dem.onstrated.
The faculties so eminent in Bayle were equally so in War-
burton. In his early studies he had particularly applied
himself :;o logic ; and was not only a vigorous reasoner, but
* "The Divine Legation of Moses Demonstrated," vol. i. sec. iv. Ob-
serve the remarkable expression, "that last foible of superior genius.
He had eviiently running in his mind Milton's line on Fame —
*' That last infirmity of noble minds."
In such an exalted state was Warburton' s mind when he was writing
lh.«, his o\rn character.
248 Quarrels of Authors,
one practised in all the finesse of dialectics. He had wit,
fertile indeed, rather than delicate ; and a vast body of eru-
dition, collected in the uninterrupted studies of twenty
years. But it was the secret peinciple, or, as he calls it,
" the Academic exercise of Wit,^' on an enlarged system,
which carried him so far in the new world of Intention he
was creating.
This was a new characteristic of investigation ; it led him
on to pursue his profounder inquiries beyond the clouds of
antiquity ; for what he could not discover, he conjectueeb
and ASSEETED. Objects, which in the hands of other men
were merely matters resting on authentic researches, now
received the stamp and lustre of original invention. Nothing
was to be seen in the state in which others had viewed it ;
the hardiest paradoxes served his purpose best, and this
licentious principle produced unlooked-for discoveries. He
humoured his taste, always wild and unchastised, in search
of the monstrous and the extravagant ; and, being a wic, he
delighted in finding resemblances in objects which to more
regulated minds had no similarity whatever. Wit may ex-
ercise its ingenuity as much in combining things unconrected
with each other, as in its odd assemblage of ideas : and
Warburton, as a literary antiquary, proved to be as witty in
his combinations as Butlee and Congeeye in their comic
images. As this principle took full possession of the mind of
this man of genius, the practice became so familiar, that it is
possible he might at times have been credulous enough to
nave confided in his own reveries. As he forcibly expressed
himself on one of his adversaries, Dr. Stebbing, " Thus it is
to have to do with a head whose seitse is all run to sijstemP
" His Academic Wit" now sported amid whimsical theories,
pursued bold but inconclusive arguments, marked ou: subtile
distinctions, and discovered incongruous resemblances ; but
they were maintained by an imposing air of conviction, fur-
nished with the most prodigal erudition, and they struck out
many ingenious combinations. The importance or the curio-
sity of the topics awed or delighted his readers ; the prin-
ciple, however licentious, by the surprise it raised, seduced
the lover,^ of novelties. Father Haedouin had studied as
hard as Warburton, rose as early, and retired to rest as late,
and the obliquity of his intellect resembled that of War-
burton — but he was a far inferior genius ; he only discovered
that the classical works of antiquity, the finest coirpositiong
Warburton. 249
of the human mind, in ages of its utmost refinement, had
been composed by the droning monks of the middle ages ; a
discovery which only surprised by its tasteless absurdity —
but the absurdities of Warburton had more dignity, were
more delightful, and more dangerous : they existed, as it
were, in a state of illusion, but illusion which required as
much genius and learning as his own to dissipate. His
spells were to be disturbed only by a magician, great as him-
self. Conducted by this solitary principle, Warburton un-
dertook, as it were, a magical voyage into antiquity. He
passed over the ocean of time, sailing amid rocks, and half
lost on quicksands ; but he never failed to raise up some terra
incognita; or point at some scene of the Fata Morgana^
some earthly spot, painted in the heaven one knows not how.
In this secret principle of resolving to invent what no
other had before conceived, by means of conjecture and
assertion, and of maintaining his theories with all the pride
of a sophist, and all the fierceness of an inquisitor, we have
the key to all the contests by which this great mind so long
supported his literary usurpations.
The first step the giant took showed the mightiness of his
stride. His first great work was the famous " Alliance be-
tween Church and State." It surprised the world, who saw
the most important subject depending on a mere curious
argument, which, like all pohtical theories, was liable to be
overthrown by writers of opposite principles.* The term
"Alliance" seemed to the dissenters to infer that the Church
was an independent power, forming a contract with the
State, and not acknowledging that it is only an integral part,
* The author of *' The Canons of Criticism" addressed a severe sonnet
to Warburton ; and alludes to the '* Alliance '' : —
" Reign he sole king in paradoxal land,
And for Utopia plan his idle schemes
Of visionary leagues, alliance vain
'Twixt Will and Warburton—"
On which he adds this note, humorously stating the grand position of the
work : — " The whole argument by which the alliance between Church and
&tate is established, Mr. Warburton founds upon this supposition — * That
people, considering themselves in a religious capacity, may contract with
themselves, considered in a civil capacity.' The conceit is ingenious, but
is not his own. Scrub, in the Beaux Stratagem, had found it out long
ago : he considers himself as acting the different parts of all the servants
in tne family ; and so Scrub, the coachman, ploughman, or justice's clerk,
nugnt contract with Scrub, the butler, for such a quantity of ale as the
otuei Assumed character demanded." — Appendix, p. 261.
250 Quarrels of Authors,
like that of the army or the navy* Warburton had not
probably decided, at that time, on the principle of ecclesias-
tical power : whether it was paramount by its divine origin,
as one party asserted ; or whether, as the new philosophers,
Hobbes, Selden, and others, insisted, the spiritual was secon-
dary to the civil power.f
The intrepidity of this vast genius appears in the plan of
his greater work. The omission of a future state of reward
and punishment, in the Mosaic writings, was perpetually
urged as a proof that the mission was not of divine origin :
the ablest defenders strained at obscure or figurative pas-
sages, bo force unsatisfactory inferences ; but they were
looking after what could not be found. Warburton at once
boldly acknowledged it was not there ; at once adopted all
the objections of the infidels: and roused the curiosity of
both parties by the hardy assertion, that this very omission
was a demonstration of its divine origin. J
* "Monthly Review," vol. xvi. p. 324, the organ of the dissenters.
+ See article Hobbes, for his system. The great Selden was an Eras-
tianj a distinction extremely obscure. Erastus was a Swiss physician of
little note, who was for restraining the ecclesiastical power from all tem-
poral jurisdiction. Selden did him the honour of adopting his principles.
Selden wrote against the divine right of tithes, but allowed the legal right,
which gave at first great offence to the clergy, who afterwards perceived
the propriety of his argument, as Wotton has fully acknowledged.
X It does not always enter into the design of these volumes to examine
those great works which produced literary quarrels. But some may be
glad to find here a word on this original project.
The grand position of the Divine Legation is, that the knowledge of the
immortality of the soul, or a future state of reward and punishment, is
absolutely necessary in the moral government of the universe. The author
shows how it has been inculcated by all good legislators, so that no religion
could ever exist without it ; but the Jewish could, from its peculiar govern-
ment, which was theocracy — a government where the presence of God him-
self was perpetually manifested loy miracles and new ordinances : and hence
temporal rewards and punishments were sufficient for that people, to whom
the unity and power of the Godhead were never doubtful. As he pro-
ceeded, he would have opened a new argument, viz., that the Jewish
religion was only the part of a revelation, showing the necessity of a further
one for its completion, which produced Christianity.
When Warburton was in good spirits with his great work (for he was not
always so), he wrote thus to a friend : — " You judge right, that the next
volume of the D. L. will not be the last. I thought I had told you that
I had divided the work into three parts : the first gives you a view of
Paganism ; the second, of Judaism ; and the third, of Christianity. Yov,
vdll wonder how this last inquiry can come into so simple an argument,
as that which I undertake to enforce. I have not room to tell you more
than this — that after I have proved a future state not to be, in jact-
War burton, 251
The first idea of this new project was bold and delightful,
and the plan magnificent. Paganism, Judaism, and Chris-
tianity, the three great religions of mankind, were to be
marshalled in all their pomp, and their awe, and their mys-
tery. But the procession changed to a battle ! To maintain
one great paradox, he was branching out into innumerable
ones. This great work was never concluded: the author
wearied himself, without, however, wearying his readers ;
and, as his volumes appeared, he was still referring to his
argument, " as far as it is yet advanced." The demonstration
appeared in great danger of ending in a conjecture ; and this
work, always beginning and never ending, proved to be the
glory and misery of his life.* In perpetual conflict with
in the Mosaic dispensation, I next show that, if Christianity be true, it
could not possibly he there ; and this necessitates me to explain the nature
of Christianity, with which the whole ends. But this inter nos. If it be
known, I should possibly have somebody writing against this part too before
it appears," — Nichols's " Literary Anecdotes," vol. v. p. 551.
Thus he exults in the true tone, and with all the levity of a sophist.
It is well that a true feeling of religion does not depend on the quirks and
quibbles of human reasonings, or, what are as fallible, on masses of fanciful
erudition.
* Warburton lost himself in the labyrinth he had so ingeniously con-
structed. This work harassed his days and exhausted his intellect. Ob-
serve the tortures of a mind, even of so great a mind as that of Warburton' s,
when it sacrifices all to the perishable vanity of sudden celebrity. Often
he flew from his task in utter exhaustion and despair. He had quitted the
smooth and even line of truth^ to wind about and split himself on all the
crookedness of paradoxes. He paints his feelings in a letter to Birch. He
says — " I was so disgusted with an old subject, that I had deferred it from
month to month and year to year." He had recourse to "an expedient ;"
which was, ' ' to set the press on work, and so oblige himself to supply
copy." Such is the confession of the author of the "Divine Legation !"
this "encyclopaedia" of all ancient and modern lore — all to proceed from
" a simple argument !" But when he describes his sufferings, hard is the
heart of that literary man who cannot sympathise with such a giant caught
in the toils ! I give his words : — " Distractions of various kinds, insepa-
rable from human life, joined with a naturally melancholy habit, contribute
greatly to increase my indolence. This makes my reading wild and desul-
tory ; and I seek refuge from the uneasiness of thought, from any book,
let it be what it will. By my manner of writing upon subjects, you,
would naturally imagine they ajford me pleasure, and attach me tho-
roughly. I will assure you, No !" — Nichols's " Literary Anecdotes,"
vol. V. p. 562.
Warburton had not the cares of a family — they were merely literary
ones. The secret cause of his "melancholy," and his "indolence," and
that "want of attachment and pleasure to his subjects," which his friends
" naturally imagined" afforded him so much, was the controversies he had
kindled, and the polemical battles he hud raised about him. However
252 Quarrels of Authors,
those numerous adversaries it roused, Warburton often shifted
his ground, and broke into so many divisions, that when he
cried out, Victory ! his scattered forces seemed rather to be in
flight than in pursuit.*
The same secret principle led him to turn the poetical
narrative of JSneas in the infernal regions, an episode evi-
dently imitated by Virgil from his Grecian master, into a
minute description of the initiation into the Eleusinian Mys-
teries. A notion so perfectly new was at least worth a
commonplace truth. Was it not dehghtful to have so many
particulars detailed of a secret transaction, which even its
contemporaries of two thousand years ago did not presume to
know anything about ? Father Hardouin seems to have
opened the way for Warburton, since he had discovered that
the whole yEneid was an allegorical voyage of St. Peter to
Eome ! When Jortin, in one of his " Six Dissertations,"
modestly illustrated Virgil by an interpretation inconsistent
with Warburton's strange discovery, it produced a memorable
quarrel. Then Hurd, the future shield, scarcely the sword,
boldly he attacked in return, his heart often sickened in privacy ; for
how often must he have beheld his noble and his whimsical edifices built
on sands, which the waters were perpetually eating into !
At the last interview of Warburton with Pope, the dying poet exhorted
him to proceed with "The Divine Legation." ** Your reputation," said
he, " as well as your duty, is concerned in it. People say you can get no
farther in your proof. Nay, Lord Bolingbroke himself bids me expect no
such thing." This anecdote is rather extraordinary; for it appears in
"Owen Ruffhead's Life of Pope," p. 497, a work written under the eye of
"Warburton himself; and in which I think I could point out some strong
touches from his own hand on certain important occasions, when he would
not trust to the creeping dulness of Ruff head.
* His temerity had raised against him not only infidels, but Christians.
If any pious clergyman now wrote in favour of the opinion that God's people
believed in the immortality of the soul — which can we doubt they did ? and
which Manasseh Ben Israel has written his treatise, "De Resurrectione
Mortuorum, " to prove — it was a strange sight to behold a bishop seeming
to deny so rational and religious a creed ! Even Dr. Balguy confessed to
Warburton, that " there was one thing in the argument of the ' Divine
Legation' that stuck more with candid men than all the rest — how a
religion without a future state could be worthy of God !" This Warburton
promised to satisfy, by a fresh appendix. His volatile genius, however,
was condemned to " the pelting of a merciless storm." Lowth told him —
" You give yourself out as demonstrator of the divine legation of Moses ;
it has been often demonstrated before ; a young student in theology might
undertake to give a better — that is, a more satisfactory and irrefragable
demonstration of it in five pages than you have done in five volunces." —
Lowth's "Letter to Warburton," p. 12.
Warburton. 253
of Warburton, made his first sally; a dapper, subtle, and
cold-blooded champion, who could dexterously^ turn about the
polished weapon of irony.* So much our Bailleur admired
the volume of Jortin, that he favoured him with " A Seventh
Dissertation, addressed to the Author of the Sixth, on the
Delicacy of Friendship," one of the most malicious, but the
keenest pieces of irony. It served as the foundation of a new
School of Criticism, in which the arrogance of the master
was to be supported by the pupil's contempt of men often
his superiors. To interpret Virgil differently from the
modern Stagirite, was, by the aggravating art of the ridi-
culer, to be considered as the violation of a moral feeling.f
* Hurd was the son of a Staffordshire farmer, and was placed by him
at Rugely, from whence he was removed to Emmanuel College, Cambridge.
At the age of twenty-six he published a pamphlet entitled " Remarks on
a late Book entitled * An Inquiry into the Rejection of the Christian
Miracles by the Heathens, by William Weston,'" which met with consider-
able attention. In 1749,- on the occasion of publishing a commentary on
Horace's " Ars Poetica," he complimented Warburton so strongly as to
ensure his favour, Warburton returned it by a puff for Hurd in his edition
of Pope, and the two became fast friends. It was a profitable connexion
to Hurd, for by the intercession of Warburton he was appointed one of the
Whitehall preachers, a preacher at Lincoln's Inn, and Archdeacon of Glou-
cester. He repaid Warburton by constant praises in print, and so far suc-
ceeded with that vain man, that when he read the dedication he made to
him of his " Commentary on the Epistle to Augustus," he wrote to him
with mock humility — " I will confess to you how much satisfaction the
gi-oundless part of it, that which relates to myself, gave me." When Dr.
Jortin veiy properly spoke of Warburton with less of subserviency than the
overbearing bishop desired, Hurd at once came forward to fight for War-
burton in print, in a satirical treatise on *'The Delicacy of Friendship,"
which highly delighted his patron, who at once wrote to Dr. Lowth, stating
him to be "a man of vei^ superior talents, of genius, learning, and virtue ;
indeed, a principal ornament of the age he lives in." Hurd was made
Bishop of Lichfield in 1775, and of Winchester in 1779. He died in the
year 1808.— Ed.
+ The Attic irony was translated into plain English, in ** Remarks on
Dr. Warburton's Account of the Sentiments of the Early Jews," 1757 ; and
the following rules for all who dissented from Warburton are deduced : —
*' You must not write on the same subject that he does. You must not
glance at his arguments, even without naming him or so much as referring
to him. If you find his reasonings ever so faulty, you must not presume
to furnish him with better of your own, even though you prove, and are
desirous to support his conclusions. When you design him a compliment,
yon must express it in full form, and with all the circumstance of pane-
gyrical approbation, without impertinently qualifying your civilities by
assigning a reason why you think he deserves them, as this might possibly
be taken for a hint that you know something of the matter he is writing
about as well as himself. You must never call any of his discoveries by
254 Quarrels of Authors,
Jortin bore the slow torture and the teasing of Kurd's dis-
secting- knife in dignified silence.
At length a rising genius demonstrated how Virgil could
not have described the Eleusinian Mysteries in the sixth book
of the ^neid. One blow from the arm of Gibbon shivered
the allegorical fairy palace into glittering fragments.*
When the sceptical Middleton, in his " Essay on the Gift
of Tongues," pretended to think that " an inspired language
would be perfect in its kind, with all the purity of Plato and
the eloquence of Cicero," and then asserted that " the style
of the New Testament was utterly rude and barbarous, and
abounding with every fault that can possibly deform a lan-
guage," Warburton, as was his custom, instantly acquiesced ;
but hardilj'- maintained that " this very harharism was one
certain mark of a divine original."" '\ — The curious ma^^ follow
his subtile argument in his " Doctrine of Grace ;" but, in
delivering this paradox, he struck at the fundamental prin-
the name of conjectures, though you allow them their full proportion of
elegance, learning, &c. ; for you ought to know that this capital genius
never proposed anything to the judgment of the public (though ever so new
and uncommon) with diffidence in his life. Thus stands the decree pre-
scribing our demeanour towards this sovereign in the Republic of Letters,
as we find it promulged, and bearing date at the palace of Lincoln's Inn,
Nov. 25, 1755." — From whence Kurd's "Seventh Dissertation" was
dated.
* Gibbon's ** Critical Observations on the Design of the Sixth Book of
the ^iueid." Dr. Parr considers this clear, elegant, and decisive work of
criticism, as a complete refutation of Warburton's discovery.
+ It is curious enough to observe that Warburton himself, acknowledg-
ing this to be a paradox, exultingly exclaims, ** Which, lilce so many otiters
I have had the odd foetune to advance, will be seen to be only another
name for Truth." This has all the levity of a sophist's language ! Hence
we must infer that some of the most important subjects could not be under-
stood and defended, but by Warburton's ^^ odd fortune P^ It was this
levity of ideas that raised a suspicion that he was not always sincere. He
writes, in a letter, of " living in mere spite, to rub another volume of the
'Divine Legation' in the noses of bigots and zealots." He employs the
most ludicrous images, and the coarsest phrases, on the most solemn sub-
jects. In one of his most unlucky paradoxes with Lowth, on the age and
style of the writings of Job, he accuses that elegant scholar of deficient dis-
cernment ; and, in respect to style, as not " distinguishing partridge from
horseflesh;" and in quoting some of the poetical passages, of "paying
with an old song," and " giving rhyme for reason." Alluding to some one
of his adversaries, whom he calls "the weakest, as well as the wickedest
of all mankind,'' he employs a striking image — " I shall hang him and bis
fellows, as they do vermin in a warren, and leave them to posterity tQ
stink and blacken in the wind."
Warhurton. 255
ciples of eloquence : he dilated on all the abuses of that human
art. It was precisely his utter want of taste which afforded
him so copious an argument ; for he asserted that the prin-
ciples of eloquence were arbitrary and chimerical, and its
various modes " mostly fantastical ;" and that, consequently,
there was no such thing as a good taste,* except what the
consent of the learned had made ; an expression borrowed
from Quintilian. A plausible and a consolatory argument for
the greater part of mankind ! It, however, roused the indig-
nation of Leland, the eloquent translator of Demosthenes, and
the rhetorical professor at Trinit}^ College, in Dublin, who has
nobly defended the cause of classical taste and feeling by pro-
founder principles. His classic anger produced his " Disser-
tation on the Principles of Human Eloquence ;" a volume so
much esteemed that it is still reprinted. Leland refuted the
whimsical paradox, yet complimented Warhurton, who, "with
the spirit and energy of an ancient orator, was writing against
eloquence," while he showed that the style of the New Testa-
ment was defensible on surer grounds. Hurd, who had fleshed
his polished weapon on poor Jortin, and had been received into
the arms of the hero under whom he now fought, adventured
to cast his javelin at Leland : it was dipped in the cold poison
of contempt and petulance. It struck, but did not canker,
leaves that were immortal. f Leland, with the native warmth
of his soil, could not resist the gratification of a reply ; but
the nobler part of the triumph was, the assistance he lent to
the circulation of Hurd's letter, by reprinting it with his own
* Warburton, in this work (the " Doctrine of Grace,") has a curious
passage, too long to quote, where he observes, that '* The Indian and Asiatic
eloquence was esteemed hyperbolic and puerile by the more phlegmatic
inhabitants of Rome and Athens : and the Western eloquence, in its turn,
frigid or insipid, to the hardy and inflamed imaginations of the East. The
same expression, which in one place had the utmost simplicity, had in
another the utmost sublime." The jackal, too, echoes the roar of the
lion ; for the polished Hurd, whose taste was far more decided than War-
burton's, was bold enough to add, in his Letter to Leland, " That which
is thought supremely elegant in one country, passes in another ior finical ;
while what in this country is accepted under the idea of sublimity^ is de-
rided in that other as no better than bombast.''^ So unsettled were the
no-taste of Warburton, and the print-taste of Hurd !
+ The Letter to Leland is characterised in the "Critical Review" for
April, 1765, as the work of "a preferment-hunting toad-eater, Avho, while
his patron happened to go out of his depth, tells him that he is treading
good ground ; but at the same time offers him the use of a cork -jacket to
keep him above water."
256 Quarrels of Authors.
reply, to accompany a new edition of his " Dissertation on
Eloquence."*
We now pursue the secret principle, operating on lighter
topics ; when, turning commentator, with the same origi-
nality as when an author, his character as a literary adven-
turer is still more prominent, extorting double senses, disco-
vering the most fantastical allusions, and making men of
genius hut of confined reading, learned, with all the lumber of
his own unwieldy erudition.
When the German professor Crotjsaz published a rigid
examen of the doctrines in Pope's " Essay on Man," War-
burton volunteered a defence of Pope. Some years before, it
appears that Warburton himself, in a literary club at Newark,
had produced a dissertation against those very doctrines!
where he asserted that " the Essay was collected from the
worst passages of the worst authors." This probably occurred
at the time he declared that Pope had no genius ! Boling-
broke really wrote the "Essay on Man," which Pope ver-
sified.-\ His principles may be often objectionable ; but those
* Dr. Thomas Leland was born in Dublin in 1722, and was educated in
Trinity College, in that city. Having obtained a Fellowship there, he de-
pended on that alone, and devoted a long life to study, and the production
of various historical and theological works; as well as a "History of
Ireland," published in 1773. He died in 1785.— Ed.
t In a rough attack on Warburton, respecting Pope's privately printing
1500 copies of the " Patriot King" of Bolingbroke, which I conceive to
have been written by Mallet, I find a particular account of the manner in
which the "Essay on Man" was written, over which Johnson seems to
throw great doubts.
The writer of this angry epistle, in addressing Warburton, says: **If
you were as intimate with Mr. Pope as you pretend, you must know the
truth of a fact which several others, as well as I, who never had the honour
of a personal acquaintance with Lord Bolingbroke or Mr. Pope, have heard.
The fact was related to me by a certain Senior Fellow of one of our Univer-
sities, who was very intimate with Mr. Pope. He started some objections,
one day, at Mr. Pope's house, to the doctrine contained in the iCthic
Epistles : upon which Mr. Pope told him that he would soon convince him
of the truth of it, by laying the argument at large before him ; for which
purpose he gave him a large prose manuscript to peruse, telling him, at
the same time, the author's name. From this perusal, whatever other
conviction the doctor might receive, he collected at least this : that Mr.
Pope had from his friend not only the doctrine, but even the finest and
strongest ornaments of his Etiiics. Now, if this fact be true (as I question
not but you know it to be so), I believe no man of candour will attribute
such merit to Mr. Pope as you would insinuate, for acknowledging the
wisdom and the friendsliip of the man who was his instructor in philosophy ;
nor consequently that this acknowledgment, and the dedication of his own
War burton, 257
who only read this fine philosophical poem for its condensed
verse, its imagery, and its generous sentiments, will run no
danger from a metaphysical system they will not care to com-
prehend.
But this serves not as an apology for Warhurton, who now
undertook an elaborate defence of what he had himself con-
demned, and for which purpose he has most unjustly depressed
Crousaz — an able logician, and a writer ardent in the cause of
religion. This commentary on the " Essay on Man," then,
looks much like the work of a sophist and an adventurer !
Pope, who was now alarmed at the tendency of some of those
principles he had so innocently versified, received Warburton
as his tutelary genius. A mere poet was soon dazzled by the
sorcery of erudition ; and he himself, having nothing of that
kind of learning, believed Warburton to be the Scaliger of the
age, for his gratitude far exceeded his knowledge.* The poet
died in this delusion : he consigned his immortal works to the
mercy of a ridiculous commentary and a tasteless commen-
tator, whose labours have cost so much pains to subsequent
editors to remove. Yet from this moment we date the worldly
fortunes of Warburton. — Pope presented him with the entire
property of his works ; introduced him to a blind and obedient
patron, who bestowed on him a rich wife, by whom he secured
system, put into a poetical dress by Mr. Pope, laid his lordship under the
necessity of never resenting any injury done to him by the poet afterwards.
Mr. Pope told no more than literal truth, in calling Lord Bolingbroke his
guide, philosopher, and friend." The existence of this very manuscript
volume was authenticated by Lord Bathurst, in a conversation with Dr.
Blair and others, where he said, "he had read tie MS. in Lord Boling-
broke's handwriting, and was at a loss whether most to admire the elegance
of Lord Bolingbroke's prose, or the beauty of Mr. Pope's verse." — See the
letter of Dr. Blair in "Boswell's Life of Johnson."
* Of many instances, the following one is the most curious. When
Jarvis published his "Don Quixote," Warburton, who was prompt on
whatever subject was started, presented him with "A Dissertation on the
Origin of the Books of Chivalry," When it appeared, it threw Pope, their
common friend, into raptures. He writes, "I liuew you as certainly as the
ancients did the gods, by the first pace and the very gait." True enough !
Warburton's strong genius stamped itself on all his works. But neither
the translating painter, nor the simple poet, could imagine the heap of ab-
surdities they were admiring ! Whatever Warburton here asserted was
false, and whatever he conjectured was erroneous ; but his blunders were
quite original. — The good sense and knowledge of Tyrwhitt have demolished
the whole edifice, without leaving a single brick standing. The absurd
rhapsody has been worth preserving, for the sake of the masterly confuta-
tion : no uncommon result of Warburton's literary labours !
It forms the coneluding note in Shakspeare's Love's Labour Lost.
258 Quarrels of Authors.
a fine mansion ; till at length, the mitre crowned his last am-
bition. Such was the large chapter of accidents in Warbur-
ton's life !
There appears in Warburton's conduct respecting the edi-
tions of the great poets which he afterwards published, some-
thing systematic ; he treated the several editors of those very
poets, Theobald, Hanmee, and Geet, who were his friends,
with the same odd sort of kindness : when he was unknown
to the world, he cheerfully contributed to all their labours,
and afterwards abused them with the liveliest severity.* It
* Of Theobald he was once the companion, and to Sir Thomas Hakmer
he offered his notes for his edition. [Hanmer's Shakspeare was given in
1742 to the University of Oxford, for its benefit, and was printed at
the University Press, under the management of Dr. Smith and Dr. Shippon.
Sir Thomas paid the expenses of the engravings by Gravelot prefixed to
each play. The edition was published in 4to. in 1744, it was printed on
the "finest royal paper," and does not warrant the severity of Pope, whose
editing was equally faulty.] Sir Thomas says he found Warburton s notes
" sometimes just, but mostly wild and out of the way." Warburton paid
a visit to Sir Thomas for a week, which he conceived was to assist him in
perfecting his darling text ; but hints were now dropped by Warburton,
that he might publish the work corrected, by which a greater sum of money
might be got than could be by that plaything of Sir Thomas, which shines
in all its splendour in the Dunciad ; but this project did not suit Hanmer,
whose life seemed greatly to depend on the magnificent Oxford edition,
which *' was not to go into the hands of booksellers." On this, Warbur-
ton, we are told by Hanmer, "flew into a great rage, and there is an end
of the story." With what haughtiness he treats these two friends, for once
they were such ! Had the Dey of Algiers been the editor of Shakspeare,
he could not have issued his orders more peremptorily for the decapitation
of his rivals. Of Theobald and Hanmer he says, "the one was recom-
mended to me as a poor man, the other as a poor critic : and to each of
them at different times I communicated a great number of observations,
which they managed, as they saw fit, to the relief of their several distresses.
Mr. Theobald was naturally turned to industry and labour. What he read
he could transcribe ; but as to what he thought, if ever he did think, he
could but ill express, so he read on : and by that means got a character of
learning, without risking to every observer the imputation of wanting a
better talent." — See what it is to enjoy too close an intimacy with a man
of wit ! "As for the Oxford Editor, he wanted nothing (alluding to Theo-
bald's want of money) but what he might very well be without, the reputa-
tion of a critic," &c. &c. — Warburton'' s Preface to Shakspeare.
His conduct to Dr. Grey, the editor of Hudibras, cannot be accounted
for by any known fact. I have already noticed their quarrels in the
"Calamities of Authors." Warburton cheerfully supplied Grey with
various notes on Hudibras, though he said he had thought of an edition
himself, and they were gratefully acknowledged in Grey's Preface ; but be-
hold ! shortly afterwards they are saluted by Warburton as " an execrable
heap of nonsense ;" further, he insulted Dr. Grey for the number of his
Warburton, 259
is probable that he had himself projected these editions as a
source of profit, but had contributed to the more advanced
labours of his rival editors, merely as specimens of his talent,
that the pubHc might hereafter be thus prepared for his own
more perfect commentaries.
Warburton employed no little art* to excite the public
publications ! Poor Dr. Grey and his "Coadjutors," as Warburton sneer-
ingly called others of his friends, resented this by *'A Free and Familiar
Letter to that Great Preserver of Pope and Shakspeare, the Rev.
Mr. William Warburton," The doctor insisted that Warburton had had
sufficient share in those very notes to be considered as one of the " Coad-
jutors." **I may venture to say, that whoever was the fool of the com-
pany before be entered (or the fool of the piece, in his own diction) he was
certainly so after he engaged in that work ; for, as Ben Jonson observes, *he
that thinks himself the Master- Wit is commonly the Master-Fool.^ "
* Warburton certainly used little intrigues : he trafficked with the
obscure Reviews of the times. He was a correspondent in "The Works of
the Learned," where the account of his first volume of the Divine Legation,
he says, is "a nonsensical piece of stuiF;" and when Dr. Doddridge offered
to draw up an article for his second, the favour was accepted, and it was
sent to the miserable journal, though acknowledged "to be too good for it."
In the same journal were published all his specimens of Shakspeare, some
years after they had appeared in the "General Dictionary," with a high
character of these wonderful discoveries. — " The Alliance," when first pub-
lished, was announced in " The Present State of the Republic of Letters,"
to be the work of a gentleman whose capacity, judgment, and learning
deserve some eminent dignity in the Church of England, of which he is
"now an inferior minister." — One may presume to guess at "the gentleman,'^
a little impatient for promotion, who so much cared whether Warburtoa was
only "now an inferior minister."
These are little arts. Another was, that Warburton sometimes aeted
Falstaff's part, and ran his sword through the dead ! In more instances
than one this occurred. Sir Thomas Hanmer was dead when Warburton,
then a bishop, ventured to assert that Sir Thomas's letter concerning their
intercourse about Shakspeare was "one continued falsehood from beginning
to end." The honour and veracity of Hanmer must prevail over the
"liveliness" of Wai-burton, for Hurd lauds his " lively preface to his
Shakspeare." But the "Biographia Britannica" bears marks of Warbur-
ton's violence, in a cancelled sheet. See the Index, art. Hanmer ; [where
we are told "the sheet being castrated at the instance of Mr., now Dr.
Warburton, Bishop of Gloucester, it has been repi'inted as an appendix to
the work," it consisted in the suppression of one of Hanmer's letters.} He
did not choose to attack Dr. Middleton in form, during his lifetime, but
reserved his blow when his antagonist was no more. I find in Cole's MSS.
this curious passage : — "It was thought, at Cambridge, that Dr. Middleton
and Dr. Warburton did not cordially esteem one another ; yet both being
keen and thorough sportsmen, they were mutually afraid to engage to each
other, for fear of a fall. If that was the case, the bishop judged prudently,
however fairly it may be looked upon, to stay till it was out of the power
of his adversary to make any reply, before he gave his answer." Warbur-
s2
260 Quarrels of Authors »
curiosity respecting his future Shakspeare : he liberally pre-
sented Dr. BiECH with his MS. notes for that great work
the "General Dictionary," no doubt as the prelude of his after-
celebrated edition. Birch was here only a dupe : he escaped,
unlike Theobald, Hanmer," and Grey, from being overwhelmed
with ridicule and contempt. When these extraordinary spe-
cimens of emendatory and illustrative criticism appeared in
the "General Dictionary," with general readers they excited all
the astonishment of perfect novelty. It must have occurred
to them, that no one as yet had understood Shakspeare ; and,
indeed, that it required no less erudition than that of the new
luminary now rising in the critical horizon to display the
amazing erudition of this most recondite poet. Conjectural cri-
ticism not only changed the words but the thoughts of the
author ; perverse interpretations of plain matters. Many a
striking passage was wrested into a new meaning : plain words
were subtilised to remove conceits ; here one line was re-
jected, and there an interpolation, inspired alone by critical
sagacity, pretended to restore a lost one; and finally, a
source of knowledge was opened in the notes, on subjects
which no other critic suspected could, by any ingenuity,
stand connected with Shakspeare's text.
At length the memorable edition appeared : all the world
knows its chimeras.* One of its most remarkable results was
ton only replied to Middleton's "Letter from Rome," in his fourth edition of
the *' Divine Legation," 1765. — When Dyson firmly defended his friend
Akenside from the rude attacks of Warburton, it is observed, that he bore
them with "prudent patience :" he never replied !
* These critical extravaganzas are scarcely to be paralleled by "Bentley's
Notes on Milton." How Warburton turned "an allegorical mermaid"
into "the Queen of Scots ;" — showed how Shakspeare, in one word, and
with one epithet "the majestic world," described the Orhis Romanus,
alluded to the Olympic Games, &c. ; yet, after all this discovery, seems
rather to allude to a story about Alexander, which W^arburton happened to
recollect at that moment ; — and how he illustrated Octavia's idea of the
fatal consequences of a civil war between Caesar and Antony, who said it
would "cleave the world," by the story of Curtius leaping into the chasm ;
— how he rejected ^^ allowed, with absolute power," as not English, and
read ^^ hallowed," on the authority of the Roman Tribuneship being called
Sacro-sancta Potestas ; how his emendations often rose from puns ; as for
instance, when, \n Romeo and Juliet, it is said of the Friar, that "the City
is much obliged to him,'^ our new critic consents to the sound of the word,
but not to the spelling, and reads hymn; that is, to laud, to praise !
These, and more extraordinary instances of perverting ingenuity and abused
erudition, would form an uncommon specimen of criticism, which may be
justly ridiculed, but which none, except an exuberant genius, could have
Warburfon. 261
tlie procluction of that work, which annihilated the whimsical
labours of Warburton, Edwards's " Canons of Criticism,"
one of those successful facetious criticisms which enliven our
literary history. Johnson, awed by the learning of War-
burton, and warmed by a personal feehng for a great genius
who had condescended to encourage his first critical labour,
grudgingly bestows a moderated praise on this exquisite satire,
which he characterises for " its airy petulance, suitable enough
to the levity of the controversy." He compared this attack
" to a fly, which may sting and tease a horse, but yet the
horse is the nobler animal."* Among the prejudices of criti-
cism, is one which hinders us from relishing a masterly per-
formance, when it ridicules a favourite author ; but to us,
mere historians, truth will always prevail over literary fa-
vouritism. The work of Edwards effected its purpose, that
of " laughing down Warburton to his proper rank and cha-
racter."t
produced. The most amusing work possible would be a real Warburton's
Shakspeare, which would contain not a single thought, and scarcely an ex-
pression, of Shakspeare's !
* Had Johnson known as much as we do of Warburton's opinion of his
critical powers, it would have gone far to have cured his«amiable prejudice
in favour of Warburton, who really was a critic without taste, and who
considered literature as some do politics, merely as a party business. I
shall give a remarkable instance. When Johnson published his first criti-
cal attempt on Macbeth, he commended the critical talents of Warbur-
ton ; and Warburton returned the compliment in the preface to his Shak-
speare, and distinguishes Johnson as " a man of parts and genius." But,
unluckily, Johnson afterwards published his own edition ; and, in his
editorial capacity, his public duty prevailed over his personal feelings : all
this went against Warburton ; and the opinions he now formed of Johnson
were suddenly those of insolent contempt. In a letter to Hurd, he writes :
"Of this Johnson, you and I, I believe, think alike!" And to another
friend : ** The remarks he makes, in every page, on mi/ Commentaries, are
full of insolence and malignant reflections, which, had they not in them cw
much folly as malignity, I should have reason to be offended with." He
consoles himself, however, that Johnson's notes, accompanying his own,
will enable even "the trifling part of the public" not to mistake in the
comparison. — Nichols's "Literary Anecdotes," vol. v. p. 595.
And what became of Johnson's noble Preface to Shakspeare ? Not a
word on that ! — Warburton, who himself had written so many spirited ones,
perhaps did not like to read one finer than his own, — so he passed it
by ! He travelled through Egypt, but held his hands before his eyes at
a pyramid !
+ Thomas Edwards chiefly led the life of a literary student, though he
studied for the Bar at Lincoln' s-Inn, and was fully admitted a member
thereof. He died unmarried at the age of 58. He descended from a
family of lawyers ; possessed a sufiicient private property to ensure inde«
262 Quarrels of Authors
Warburton designates himself as " a critic by profession ;"
and tells us, he gave this edition "to deter the unlearned
tcriter from wantonl_y trilling with an art he is a stranger to,
at the expense of the integrity of the text of established
authors." Edwards has placed a N.B. on this declaration : —
" A writer may properly be called unlearned, who, notwith-
standing all his other knowledge, does not understand the sub-
ject which he writes upon." But the most dogmatical absur-
dity was War burton's declaration, that it was once his design
to have given " a body of canons for criticism, drawn out in
form, with a glossary ;" and further he informs the reader,
that though this has not been done by him, if the reader will
take the trouble, he may supply himself, as these canons of ^
criticism lie scattered in the course of the notes. This idea
was seized on with infinite humour by Edwards, who, from
these very notes, has framed a set of " Canons of Criticism,"
as ridiculous as possible, but every one illustrated by
authentic examples, drawn from the labours of our new
Stagirite.*
pendence, and died on his own estate of Turrick, in Buckingliamshire.
Dr. Warton observes, " This attack on Mr. Edwards is not of weight
sufficient to weaken the eflfects of his excellent 'Canons of Criticism,' all
impartial critics allow these remarks to have been decisive and judicious,
and his book remains unrefuted and unanswerable." — Ed.
* Some grave dull men, who did not relish the jests, doubtless the book-
sellers, who, to buy the name of Warburton, had paid down 500^. for the
edition, loudly complained that Edwards had injured both him and them,
by stopping the sale ! On this Edwards expresses his surprise, how *'a
little twelvepenny pamphlet could stop the progress of eight large octavo
volumes ;" and apologises, by applying a humorous story to Warburton,
ftw "puffing himself off in the world for what he is not, and now being
discovered." — "I am just in the case of a friend of mine, who, going to
risit an acquaintance, upon entering his room, met a person going out of
it^ :— ' Prythee, Jack,' says he, ' what do you do with that fellow V ' Why,
'tis Don Pedro di Mondongo, my Spanish master.' — 'Spanish master !' re-
plies my friend ; ' why, he's an errant Teague ; I know the fellow well
enough : 'tis Rory Gehagan. He may possibly have been in Spain ; but,
depend on't, he will sell you the Tipperary brogue for pure Castilian.'
Now honest Kory has just the same reason of complaint against this
gentleman as Mr. Warburton has against me, and I suppose abused him
ftfi heartily for it ; but nevertheless the gentleman did both parties justice.'*
Some secret history is attached to this publication, so fatal to Warbur-
ton's critical character in English literature. This satire, like too many
which have sprung out of literary quarrels, arose from personal motives /
When Edwards, in early life, after quitting college, entered the army, he
was on a visit at Mr. Allen's, at Bath, whose niece Warburton afterwards
married. Literary subjects formed the usual conversation. Warburton,
noi suspecting the red coat of covering any Greek, showed his accustomed
Warburton. 263
At length, when the public had decided on the fact of
Warburton*s edition, it was confessed that the editor's design
had never been to explain Shakspeare ! and that he was even
conscious he had frequently imputed to the poet meanings
which he never thought ! Our critic's great object was to
display his own learning ! Warburton wrote for Warburton,
and not for Shakspeare ! and- the literary imposture almost
rivals the confessions of Lauder or Psalmanazar !
The same secret peinciple was pursued in his absurd
edition of Pope. He formed an unbroken Commentary on
the " Essay on Criticism," to show that that admirable col-
lection of precepts had been constructed by a systematical
method, which it is well known the poet never designed ;
and the same instruments of torture were here used as in the
" Essay on Man," to reconcile a system of fatalism to the
doctrines of Revelation.* Warton had to remove the incum-
dogmatical superiority. Once, when the controversy was running high,
Edwards taking down a Greek author, explained a passage in a manner
quite contrary to Warburton. He did unluckily something more — he
showed that Warburton's mistake had arisen from having used a French
translation ! — and all this before Ralph Allen and his niece ! The doughty
critic was at once silenced, in sullen indignation and mortal hatred. To
this circumstance is attributed Edwards's "Canons of Criticism," which,
were followed up by Warburton with incessant attacks ; in every new
edition of Pope, in the " Essay on Criticism," and the Dunciad. War-
burton asserts that Edwards is a very dull writer (witness the pleasantry
that carries one through a volume of no small size), that he is a libeller
(because he ruined the critical character of Warburton) — and '"a libeller
(says Warburton, with poignancy), is nothing but a Grub-street critic run
to seed." — He compares Edwai'ds's wit and learning to his ancestor Tom
Thimble's, in the Rehearsal (because Edwards read Greek authors in their
original), and his air of goodnature and politeness, to Caliban's in the
Tempest (because he had so keenly written the " Canons of Criticism "). —
I once saw a great literary curiosity : some proof-sheets of the Dunciad
of Warburton's edition. I observed that some of the bitterest notes were
after-thoughts^ written on those proof-sheets after he had prepared the
book for the press — one of these additions was his note on Edwards. Thus
Pope's book afforded renewed opportunities for all the personal hostilities
of this singular genius !
* In the " Richardsoniana," p. 264, the younger Richardson, who was
admitted to the intimacy of Pope, and collated the press for him, gives
some curious infoi*mation about Warburton's Commentary, both upon the
"Essay on Man" and the "Essay on Criticism." "Warburton's discovery
of the 'regularity' of Pope's 'Essay on Criticism,' and 'the whole scheme'
of his 'Essay on Man,' I happen to know to be mere absurd refinement in
creating conformities ; and this from Pope himself, though he thought fit to
adopt them afterwards." The genius of Warburton might not have found
an iavincible difficulty in proving that the "Essay on Criticism" was vn fact
264 Quarrels of Authors*
brance of his Commentaries on Pope, while a most laborious
confederacy zealously performed the same task, to relieve
Shakspeare. Thus Warburton pursued one secret prin-
ciple in all his labours ; thus he raised edifices which could
not be securely inhabited, and were only impediments in the
roadway ; and these works are now known by the labours
of those who have exerted their skill in laying them in
ruins.
Warburton was probably aware that the secret principle
which regulated his public opinions might lay him open, at
numerous points, to the strokes of ridicule. It is a weapon
which every one is willing to use, but which seems to terrify
every one when it is pointed against themselves. There is
no party or sect which have not employed it in their most
serious controversies: the grave part of mankind protest
against it, often at the moment they have been directing it
for their own purpose. And the inquiry, whether ridicule be
a test of truth, is one of the large controversies in our own
literature. It was opened by Lord Shaftesbury, and zeal-
ously maintained by his school. Akenside, in a note to his
celebrated poem, asserts the eflScacy of ridicule as a test of
truth : Lord Kaimes had just done the same. Warburton
levelled his piece at the lord in the bush-fighting of a note ;
but came down in the open field with a full discharge of his
artillery on the luckless bard.*
Warburton designates Akenside under the sneering appel-
lative of " The Poet," and alluding to his " sublime account"
of the use of ridicule, insultingly reminds him of "his Master,"
Shaftesbury, and of that school which made morality an object
of taste, shrewdly hinting that Akenside was " a man of
taste ;" a new term, as we are to infer from Warburton, for
an Essay on Man, and the reverse. Pope, before he knew Warburton,
always spoke of his " Essay on Criticism " as " an irregular collection of
thoughts thrown together as Horace's ' Art of Poetry ' was." *' As for the
' Essay on Man,' " says Richardson, '* I know that he never dreamed of the
scheme he afterwards adopted ; but he had taken terror about the clergy,
and Warburton himself, at the general alarm of its fatalism and deistical
tendency, of which my father and I talked with him frequently at Twick-
enham, without his appearing to understand it, or ever thinking to alter
those passages which we suggested." — This extract is to be valued, for the
infoi-mation is authentic ; and it assists us in throwing some light on the
subtilty of Warburton's critical impositions.
* The postscript to Warbui-ton's "Dedication to the Freethinkers," is
entirely devoted to Akenside ; with this bitter opening, "The Poet was too
full of the subject and of himself."
fVarburton. 265
"a Deist;" or, as Akenside had alluded to Spinoza, lie might
be something worse. The great critic loudly protested against
the practice of ridicule ; but, in attacking its advocate, he is
himself an evidence of its efficacy, by keenly ridiculing " the
Poet" and his opinions. Dyson, the patron of Akenside,
nobly stepped forwards to rescue his Eagle, panting in the
tremendous gripe of the critical Lion. His defence of Aken-
side is an argumentative piece of criticism on the nature of
ridicule, curious, but wanting the graces of the genius who
inspired it.*
I shall stop one moment, since it falls into our subject, to
record this great literary battle on the use of ridicule, which
has been fought till both parties, after having shed their ink,
divide the field without victory or defeat, and now stand
looking on each other.
The advocates for the use of Ridicule maintain that it is
a natural sense or feeling, bestowed on us for wise purposes
by the Supreme Being, as are the other feelings of beauty
and of sublimity ; — the sense of beauty to detect the defor-
mity, as the sense of ridicule the absurdity of an object ; and
they further maintain, that no real virtues, such as wisdom,
honesty, bravery, or generosity, can be ridiculed.
The great Adversary of Ridicule replied that they did not
dare to ridicule the virtues openly ; but, by overcharging and
distorting them they could laugh at leisure. " Give them
other names," he says, "call them but Temerity, Prodigality,
Simplicity, &c., and your business is done. Make them ridi-
culous, and you may go on, in the freedom of wit and hu-
mour (as Shaftesbury distinguishes ridicule), till there be
never a virtue left to laugh out of countenance."
The ridiculers acknowledge that their favourite art may do
mischief, when dishonest men obtrude circumstances foreign to
the object. But, they justly urge, that the use of reason itself
is full as liable to the same objection : grant Spinoza his false
premises, and his conclusions will be considered as true.
Dyson threw out an ingenious illustration. " It is so equally
* "An Epistle to the Eev. Mr. Warhurton, occasioned by his Treatment
of the Author of ' The Pleasures of the Imagination,' " 1744. While Dyson
repels Warburton's accusations against *'tbe Poet," he retorts some against
the critic himself. Warhurton often perplexed a controversy by a subtile
change of a word ; or by breaking up a sentence ; or by contriving some
absurdity in the shape of an inference, to get rid of it in a mock triumph.
These little weapons against the laws of war are insidiously practised in
the war of words. Warburton never replied.
266 Quarrels of Authors.
in tbe mathematics ; where, in reasoning about a circle, if we
join along with its real properties others that do not belong
to it, our conclusions will certainly be erroneous. Yet who
would infer from hence that the manner of proof is defective
or fallacious ?"
Warburton urged the strongest case against the use of
ridicule, in that of Socrates and Aristophanes. In his strong
and coarse illustration he shows, that " hy clapping a fool's
coat on the most immaculate virtue, it stuck on Socrates like
a San Benito, and at last brought him to his execution : it
made the owner resemble his direct opposite ; that character
he was most unlike. The consequences are well known."
Warburton here adopted the popular notion, that the witty
buffoon Aristophanes was the occasion of the death of the
philosopher Socrates. The defence is skilful on the part of
Dyson ; and we may easily conceive that on so important a
point Akenside had been consulted. I shall give it in his
own words : —
" The Socrates of Aristophanes is as truly ridiculous a cha-
racter as ever was drawn ; but it is not the character of
Socrates himself. The object was perverted, and the mis-
chief which ensued was owing to the dishonesty of him who
persuaded the people that that was the real character of
Socrates, not from any error in the faculty of ridicule itself." —
Dyson then states the fact as it concerned Socrates. " The
real intention of the contrivers of this ridicule was not so much
to mislead the people, by giving them a bad opinion of
Socrates, as to sound what was at the time the general
opinion of him, that from thence they might judge whether
it w^ould be safe to bring a direct accusation against him. The
most effectual way of making this trial was by ridiculing him ;
for they knew, if the people saw his character in its true
light, they would be displeased with the misrepresentation,
and not endure the ridicule. On trial this appeared : the
play met with its deserved fate; and, notwithstanding the
exquisiteness of the wit, was absolutely rejected. A second
attempt succeeded no better ; and the abettors of the poet
were so discouraged from pursuing their design against
Socrates, that it was not till above twenty tears after the
publication of the play that they brought their accusation
against him ! It was not, therefore, ridicule that did, or could
destroy Socrates : he was rather sacrificed for the right use of
it himself, against the Sophists, who could not bear the test,"
Warburton. 267
Thus, then, stands the argument. — Warhurton, reasoning
on the abuses of ridicule, has opened to us all its dangers. Its
advocate concedes that Kidicule, to be a test of Truth, must
not impose on us circumstances which are foreign to the object.
No object can be ridiculed that is not ridiculous. Should this
happen, then the ridicule is false ; and, as such, can be proved
as much as any piece of false reasoning. We may therefore
conclude, that ridicule is a taste of congruity and propriety
not possessed by every one ; a test which separates truth from
imposture ; a talent against the exercise of which most
men are interested to protest ; but which, being founded on
the constituent principles of the human mind, is often in-
dulged at the very moment it is decried and complained of.
But we must not leave this great man without some notice
of that peculiar style of controversy which he adopted, and
which may be distinguished among our Llteeaby Quakrels.
He has left his name to a school — a school which the more
liberal spirit of the day we live in would not any longer
endure. Who has not heard of The Warbtjrtonians ?
That SECRET PRINCIPLE which directed Warburton in all
his works, and which we have attempted to pursue, could not
of itself have been sufficient to have filled the world with the
name of Warburton. Other scholars have published reveries,
and they have passed away, after showing themselves for a
time, leaving no impression ; like those coloured and shifting
shadows on a wall, with which children are amused ; but War-
burton was a literary Revolutionist, who, to maintain a new
order of things, exercised all the despotism of a perpetual dic-
tator. The bold unblushing energy which could lay down
the most extravagant positions, was maintained by a fierce
dogmatic spirit, and by a peculiar style of mordacious con-
tempt and intolerant insolence, beating down his opponents
from all quarters with an animating shout of triumph, to
encourage those more serious minds, who, overcome by his
genius, were yet often alarmed by the ambiguous tendency of
his speculations.*
* The paradoxical title of his great work was evidently designed to
attract the unwary. *' The Divine Legation of Moses demonstrated — from,
the omission of a future state P^ It was long uncertain whether it was
*' a covert attack on Christianity, instead of a defence of it." I have here
no concern with Warburton's character as a polemical theologist ; this has
been the business of that polished and elegant scholar, Bishop Lowth, who
has shown what it is to be in Hebrew literature "a Quack in Commenta-
torship, and a Mountebank in Criticism. " He has fully entered into all
268 Quarrels of Authors.
The Warburtonian School was to be supported by the most
licentious principles ; by dictatorial arrogance,* by gross in-
vective, and by airy sarcasm ;t the bitter contempt which,
the absurdity of Warburton's ** ill-starred Dissertation on Job." It is
curious to observe that Warburton in the wild chase of originality, often
too boldly took the bull by the horns, for he often adopted the very
reasonings and objections of infidels ! — for instance, in arguing on the tnith
of the Hebrew text, because the words had no points when a living lan-
guage, he absolutely prefers the Koran for correctness ! On this Lowth
observes : *' You have been urging the same argument that Spinoza em-
ployed, in order to destroy the authority of the Hebrew Scriptures, and to
introduce infidelity and atheism." Lowth shows further, that "this was
also done by 'a society of gentlemen,' in their ' Sacerdotism Displayed,'
said to be written by ' a select committee of the Deists and Freethinkers
of Great Britain,' whose author Warburton himself had represented to be
* the forward est devil of the whole legion.' " Lowth, however, concludes
that all the mischief has arisen only from "your lordship's undertaking to
treat of a subject with which you appear to be very much unacquainted."
— Lowth's Letter, p. 91.
* Lowth remonstrated with Warburton on his " supreme authority :" —
" I did not care to protest against the authoritative manner in which you
proceeded, or to question your investiture in the high office of Inquisitor
General and Supreme Judge of the Opinions of the Learned, which you
had long before assumed, and had exercised vnth a ferocity and a despotism,
without example in the Republic of Letters, and hardly to be paralleled
among the disciples of Dominic ; exacting their opinions to the standard
of your infallibilty, and prosecuting with implacable hatred every one that
presumed to differ from you." — Lowth's Letter to W., p. 9.
f Warburton had the most cutting way of designating his adversaries,
either by the most vehement abuse or the light petulance that expressed his
ineffable contempt. He says to one, " Though your teeth are short, what
you want in teeth you have in venom, and know, as all other creatures do,
where your strength lies." He thus announces in one of the prefaces to
the ** Divine Legation " the name of the author of a work on *' A Future
State of Rewards and Punishments," in which were some objections to
Warburton's theory : — "I shall, theretore, but do what indeed would be
justly reckoned the cruellest of all things, tell my reader the name of this
miserable ; which we find to be J. Tillard." "Mr. Tillard was first con-
demned Csays the author of * Confusion Worse Confounded,') as a rufiSan
that stabs a man in the dark, because he did not put his name to his book
against the ' Divine Legation ;' and afterwards condemned as lost to shame,
both as a man and a writer, because he did put his name to it." Would
not one imagine this person to be one of the lowest of miscreants ? He
was a man of fortune and literature. Of this person Warburton says in a
letter, " This is a man of fortune, and it is well he is so, for I have spoiled
his trade as a writer ; and as he was very abusive, free-thinking, and anony-
mous, I have not spared to expose his ignorance and ill faith." But after-
wards, having discovered that he was a particular friend to Dr. Oliver, he
makes awkward apologies, and declares he would not have gone so far had
he known this ! He was often so vehement in his abuse that I find he con-
fessed it himself, for, in preparing a new edition of the "Divine Lega-
Warburton, 269
with its many little artifices, lowers an adversary in the public
opinion, was more i)eculiarly the talent of one of the aptest
scholars, the cool, the keen, the sophistical Hurd. The
lowest arts' of confederacy were connived at by all the dis-
ciples,* prodigal of praise to themselves, and retentive of it
tion," he tells Dr. Birch that he has made ** several omissions of passages
which were thought vain, insolent, and ill-natured.^^
It is amusing enough to observe how he designates men as great as him-
self. When he mentions the learned Hyde, he places him "at the head
of a rahble of lying orientalists." When he alludes to Peters, a very
learned and ingenious clergyman, he passes by him as "The Cornish
Critic." A friend of Peters observed that "he had given Warburton *a
Cornish hug,' of which he might be sore as long as he lived." Dr. Taylor,
the learned editor of Demosthenes, he selects from "his fellows," that is,
other dunces : a delicacy of expression which offended scholars. He
threatens Dr. Stebbing, who had preserved an anonymous character, "to
catch this Eel of Controversy, since he hides his head by the tail, the only
part that sticks out of the mud, more dirty indeed than slipi)ery, and still
more weak than dirty, as passing through a trap where he was forced at
every step to leave part of his skin — that is, his system." Warburton has
often true wit. With what provoking contempt he calls Sir Thomas Han-
mer always "The Oxford Editor !" and in his attack on Akenside, never
fails to nickname him, in derision, " The Poet !" I refer the reader to a
postscript of his "Dedication to the Freethinkei-s, " for a curious specimen
of supercilious causticity in his description of Lord Kaimes as a critic, and
Akenside as " The Poet !" Of this pair he tells us, in bitter derision,
" they are both men of taste." Hurd imitated his master successfully, by
using some qualifying epithet, or giving an adversary some odd nickname,
or discreetly dispensing a little mortifying praise. The antagonists he
encounters were men sometimes his superiors, and these he calls " sizeable
men." Some are styled " insect blasphemers !" The learned Lardner is
reduced to "the laborious Dr. Lardner;" and "Hume's History" is
treated with the discreet praise of being "the most readable history we
have." He carefully hints to Leland that "he had never read his works,
nor looked into his translations ; but what he has heard of his writings
makes him think favourably of him." Thus he teases the rhetorical pro-
fessor by mentioning the " elegant translation which, they say, you have
made of Demosthenes !" And he understands that he is "a scholar, who,
they say, employs himself in works of learning and taste."
Lowth seems to have discovered this secret art of Warburton ; for he
says, " You have a set of names always at hand, a kind of infamous list,
or black calendar, where every offender is sure to find a niche ready to
receive him ; nothing so easy as the application, and slight provocation is
suflQcient."
* Sometimes Warburton left his battles to.be fought by subaltern genius ;
a circumstance to which Lowth, with keen pleasantry, thus alludes : —
"Indeed, my lord, I was afterwards much surprised, when, having been
with great civility dismissed from your presence, I found your footman at
your door, armed with his master's cane, and falling upon me without
mercy, yourself looking on and approving, and having probably put the
■weapon with proper orders into his hands. You think, it seems, that I
270 Quarrels of Authors,
to all others ; the world was to be divided into two parts, the
Warhurtonians and the Anti.
To establish this new government in the literary world, this
great Revolutionist was favoured by Fortune witli two impor-
tant aids ; the one was a Machine, by which he could wield
public opinion ; and the other a Man, who seemed born to be
his minister or his viceroy.
The macliine was nothing less than the immortal works of
Pope ; as soon as Warburton had obtained a royal patent to
secure to himself the sole property of Pope's works, the public
were compelled, under the disguise of a Commentary on the
most classical of our Poets, to be concerned with all his lite-
Qugbt to have taken my beating quietly and patiently, in respect to the
livery which he wore. I was not of so tame a disposition : I wrested the
weapon from him, and broke it. Your lordship, it seems, by an oblique
blow, got an unlucky rap on the knuckles ; though you may thank yourself
for it, you lay the blame on me." — Lowth's Letter to W., p. 11.
Wai'burton and Hurd frequently concerted together on the manner of
attack and defence. In one of these letters of Kurd's it is very amusing to
read — "Taylor is a more creditable dunce than "Webster, What do you
think to do with the Appendix against Tillard and Sykes ? Why might
not Taylor rank with them," &c. The Warhurtonians had also a system
of espionage. When Dr. Taylor was accused by one of them of having said
that Warburton was no scholar, the learned Grecian replied that he did not
recollect ever saying that Dr. Warburton was no scholar, but that indeed
he had always thought so. Hence a tremendous quarrel ! Hurd, the
Mercury of our Jupiter, cast the first light shaft against the doctor, then
Chancellor of Lincoln, by alluding to the Preface of his ^ork on Civil Law
as *' a certain thing prefatory to a learned work, intituled ' The Elements
of Civil Law :'" but at length Jove himself rolled his thunder on the hap-
less chancellor. The doctor had said in his work, that "the Roman em-
perors persecuted the first Christians, not so much from a dislike of their
tenets as from a jealousy of their noctui-nal assemblies." Warburton's
doctrine was, that ' ' they held nocturnal assemblies because of the pei-se-
cution of their enemies." One was the fact, and the other the consequence.
But the Chancellor of Lincoln was to be outrageously degraded among the
dunces! that was the real motive; the "nocturnal assemblies" only the
ostensible one. A pamphleteer, in defence of the chancellor, in reply,
thought that in "this literary persecution" it might be dangerous "if
Dr. Taylor should be provoked to prove in print what he only dropped in
conversation.'''' How innocent was this gentleman of the arts and strata-
gems of logomachy, or book-wars ! The proof would not have altered the
cause : Hurd would have disputed it tooth and nail ; Warburton was
running greater risks, every day of his life, than any he was likely to
receive from this flourish in the air. The great purpose was to make the
Chancellor of Lincoln the butt of his sarcastic pleasantry ; and this object
was secured by \V ubiirton's forty pages of preface, in which the chancellor
stands to be buffeted like an ancient quintain, "a mere lifeless block."
All this came upon him for only thinking that Warburton was no scholar /
Warhurton. 271
rary quarrels, and have his libels and lampoons perpetually
before them ; all the foul waters of his anger were deposited
here as in a common reservoir.*
♦ See what I have said at the close of the note, pp. 262-3. In a col-
lection entitled *' Verses occasioned by Mr.Warburton's late Edition of Mr.
Pope's Works," 1751, are numerous epigrams, parodies, and similes on it.
I give one : —
** As on the margin of Thames' silver flood
Stand little necessary piles of wood,
So Pope's fair page appears with notes disgraced :
Put down the nuisances, ye men of taste !"
Lowth has noticed the use Wavburton made of his patent for vending
Pope. " I thought you might possibly whip me at the cart's-tail in a note
to the * Divine Legation,' the ordinary place of your literary executions ;
or pillory me in the Dunciad, another, engine which, as legal proprietor,
you have very ingeniously and judiciously applied to the same purpose ;
or, perhaps, have ordered me a kind of Bridewell correction, by one of your
beadles, in a pamphlet." — Lowth's Letter to Warhurton^'''' p. 4.
Warburton carried the licentiousness of the pen in all these notes to the
Dunciad to a height which can only be paralleled in the gross logo-
machies of Sehioppius, Grronovius, and Scaliger, and the rest of that snarling
crew. But his wit exceeded even his grossness. He was accused of not
sparing —
*' Round-house wit and Wapping choler."
[Verses occasioned by Mr, W.'s late Edition of Pope.]
And one of his most furious assailants thus salutes him : — *' Whether you
are a wrangling Wapping attorney, a pedantic pretender to criticism, an
impudent paradoxical priest, or an animal yet stranger, an heterogeneous
medley of all three, as your farraginous style seems to confess." — An Epistle
to the Author of a Libel entitled *' A Letter to the Editor of Bolingbroke's
Works," &c. — See Nichols, vol. v. p. 651.
I have ascertained that Mallet was the author of this furious epistle.
He would not acknowledge what he dared not deny. Warburton treated
Mallet, in this instance, as he often did his superiors — he never replied !
The silence seems to have stung this irascible and evil spirit : he returned
again to the charge, with another poisoned weapon. His rage produced
*' A Familiar Epistle to the Most Impudent Man Living," 1749. The style
of this second letter has been characterised as ' ' bad enough to disgrace
even gaols and garrets." Its virulence could not well exceed its predeces-
sor. The oddness of its title has made this worthless thing often inquired
after. It is merely personal. It is curious to observe Mallet, in this
pamphlet, treat Pope as an object of pity, and call him " this poor man."
[David Mallet was the son of an innkeeper, who, by means of the party he
wrote for, obtained lucrative appointments under Government, and died
rich. He was unscrupulous in his career, and ready as a writer to do the
most unworthy things. The death of Admiral Byng was hastened by tlie
unscrupulous denunciations of Mallet, who was pensioned in consequence.]
Orator Henley took some pains, on the first appearance of this catching
title, to assure his friends that it did not refer to him. The title proved
contagious ; which shows the abuse of Warburton was very a^eeable.
272 ' - Quarrels of Authors,
Fanciful as was the genius of Warburton, it delighted too
much in its eccentric motions, and in its own solitary great-
ness, amid abstract and recondite topics, to have strongly at-
tracted the public attention, had not a party been formed
Dr. Z. Grey, under tte title of ** A Country Curate," published '* A Free
and Familiar Letter to the Great Refiner of Pope and Shakspeare," 1750 ;
and in 1753, young Gibber tried also at "A Familiar Epistle to Mr.
William Warburton, from Mr. Theophilus Cibber," prefixed to the ** Life
of Barton Booth." Dr. Z. Grey's '* freedom and familiarity''^ are designed
to show Warburton that he has no wit ; but unluckily, the doctor having
none himself, his arguments against Warburton's are not decisive. *' The
familiarity" of Mallet is that of a scoundrel, and the younger Cibber's
that of an idiot : the genius of Warburton was secure. Mallet overcharged
his gun with the fellest intentions, but found his piece, in bursting, anni-
hilated himself. The popgun of the little Theophilus could never have
been heard !
[Warburton never lost a chance of giving a strong opinion against Mallet ;
and Dr. Johnson says, "When Mallet undertook to write the 'Life of
Marlborough,' Warburton remarked that he might perhaps forget that
Marlborough was a general, as he had forgotten that Bacon was a phi-
losopher."]
But Warburton's rage was only a part of his secret principle; for can
anything be more witty than his attack on poor Cooper, the author of
" The Life of Socrates ?" Having called his book "a late worthless and
now forgotten thing, called ' The Life of Socrates,'" he adds, " where the
head of the author has just made a shift to do the office of a camera
obscura, and represent things in an inverted order, himself above, and
RoUin, Voltaire, and every other author of reputation, below.'" When
Cooper complained of this, and of some severer language, to Warburton,
through a friend, Warburton replied that Cooper had attacked him, and
that he had only taken his revenge "with a slight joke." Cooper was
weak and vain enough to print a pamphlet, to prove that this was a serious
accusation, and no joke ; and if it was a joke, he shows it was not a cor-
rect one. In fact. Cooper could never comprehend how his head was like
a camera obscura 1 Cooper was of the Shaftesburian school — philosophers
who pride themselves on "the harmony" of their passions, but are too
often in discords at a slight disturbance. He equalled the virulence of
Warburton, but could not attain to the wit. "I found," says Cooper,
"previous to his pretended witticism about the camera obscura, such,
miserable spawn of wretched malice, as nothing but the inflamed brain
of a rank monk could conceive, or the oyster-selling maids near London
Bridge could utter." One would not suppose all this came from the school
of Plato, but rather from the tub of Diogenes. Something must be allowed
for poor Cooper, whose " Life of Socrates" had been so positively asserted
to be "a late worthless and forgotten thing." It is curious enough to
observe Cooper declaring, after this sally, that Warburton "has very un-
fortunately used the word impudent (which epithet Warburton had applied
to him), as it naturally reminds every reader that the pamphlet published
about two years ago, addressed *to the most impudent man living,' was
universally acknowledged to be dedicated to our commentator." War-
burton had always the Dundad in his head when a new quarrel was
Warburton, 273
around him, at the head of which stood the active and subtle
Hurd ; and amid the gradations of the votive brotherhood,
the profound Balgut,* the spirited BK0WN,t till we descend —
rising, which produced an odd blunder on the side of Edwards, and pro-
voked that wit to be as dull as Cooper. Warburton said, in one of his
notes on Edwards, who had entitled himself "a gentleman of Lincoln's
Inn," — " This gentleman, as he is pleased to call himself, is in reality a
gentleman only of the Dunciad, or, to speak him better, in the plain
language of our honest ancestors to such mushrooms, a gentleman of the
last edition.'''' Edwards misunderstood the allusion, and sore at the per-
sonal attack which followed, of his having "eluded the solicitude of his
careful father," considered himself "degraded of his gentility," that it
was " a reflection on his birth," and threatened to apply to "Mr. War-
burton's Masters of the Bench, for degrading a ' barrister of their house.'"
This afforded a new triumph to Warburton, in a new note, where he ex-
plains his meaning of these "mushrooms," whom he meant merely as
literary ones ; and assures " Fungoso and his friends, who are all gentle-
men, that he meant no more than that Edwards had become a gentleman
of the last edition of the Dunciad ! " Edwards and his fungous friends
had understood the phrase as applied to new-fangled gentry. One of these
wits, in the collection of verses cited above, says to Warburton : —
** This mushroom has made sauce for you.
He's meat ; thou'rt poison — plain enough —
If he's a mushroom, thou'rt a, puff P^
Warburton had the full command over the Dunciad, even when Pope was
alive, for it was in consequence of Warburton' s being refused a degree at
Oxford, that the poet, though one had been offered to himself, produced the
celebrated lines of " Apollo's Mayor and Aldermen," in the fourth i)M7i-
ciad. Thus it is that the personal likes and dislikes of witty men come
down to posterity, and are often mistaken as just satire, when, after all,
they are nothing but Literary Quarrels, seldom founded on truth, and
very often complete falsehoods !
* Dr. Thomas Balguy was the son of a learned father, at whose rectory
of Northallerton he was born ; he was appointed Archdeacon of Salisbury
in 1759, and afterwards Archdeacon of Winchester. He died at the pre-
bendal house of the latter city in 1795, at the age of 74. His writings
are few — chiefly on church government and authority, which brought him
into antagonism with Dr. Priestley and others, who objected to the high
view he took of its position. With Hurd and Warburton he was always
intimate ; his sermon on the consecration of the former was one of the
sources of adverse attack ; the latter notes his death as that of "an old
and esteemed friend." — Ed.
t Dr. Brown was patronised and "pitied" by Warbui-ton for years.
He used him, but spoke of him disparagingly, as "a helpless creature in
the ways of the world." Nichols speaks of him as an "elegant, inge-
nious, and unhappy author." His father was a native of Scotland ; his
son was born at Roth bury, in Northumberland, educated at Cambridge,
made minor canon at Carlisle, but resigned it in disgust, living in obscu-
rity in that city several years, till the Rebellion of 1745, when he acted
as a volunteer at the siege of the Castle, and behaved with great intrepidity.
His publication of an " Essay on Satire," on the death of Pope, led to his
T
274 Quarrels of Authors,
To his tame jackal, parson Towne.*
Verses on WarburtorCs late Edition,
This Warburtonian party reminds one of an old custom
among our elder poets, who formed a kind of freemasonry
among themselves, by adopting younger poets by the title of
their sons. — But that was a domestic society of poets ; this,
a revival of the Jesuitic order instituted by its founder, that —
By him supported with a proper pride,
They might hold all mankind as fools beside.
Might, like himself, teach each adopted son,
'Gainst all the world, to quote a Warburton.f
Churchill's " Fragment of a Dedication."
The character of a literary sj'^cophant was never more per-
fectly exhibited than in Hurd. A Whig in principle, yet he
had all a courtier's arts for Warburton ; to him he devoted all
his genius, though that, indeed, was moderate ; aided him with
all his ingenuity, which was exquisite ; and lent his cause a
certain delicacy of taste and cultivated elegance, which,
although too prim and artificial, was a vein of gold running
through his mass of erudition ; it was Hurd who aided the
usurpation of Warburton in the province of criticism above
acquaintance with Warburton, who helped him to the rectory of Horksley, near
Colchester ; but he quarrelled with his patron, as he afterwards quarrelled
with others. He then settled down to the vicarage of St, Nicholas, New-
castle, but not for long, as an educational scheme of the Empress of Russia
offered him inducements to leave England ; but his health failed him before
he could carry out his intentions, irritability succeeded, and his disappoint-
ments, real and imaginary, led him to commit suicide in the fifty-first year
of his age. He seems to have been a continual trouble to Warburton, who
often alludes to his unsettled habits — and schooled him occasionally after
his own fashion. Thus he writes in 1777 : — ** Brown is here ; I think rather
faster than ordinary, but no wiser. You cannot imagine the tenderness
they all have of his tender places, and with how unfeeling a hand I probe
them." — Ed.
* Towne is so far ' ' unknown to fame " that his career is unrecorded by
our biographers ; he was content to work for, and imder the guidance of
Warburton, as a literary drudge. — Ed.
+ Warburton, indeed, was always looking about for fresh recruits : a cir-
cumstance which appears in the curious Memoirs of the late Dr. Heathcote,
written by himself. Heathcote, when young, published anonymously a
pamphlet in the Middletonian controversy. By the desire of Warburton,
the bookseller transmitted his compliments to the anonymous author, **I
was greatly surprised," says Heathcote, "but soon after perceived that
Warburton's state of authorship being a state of war, it was his custom to
he particularly attentive to all young authors, in hopes of enlisting them
ivuo fits service. Warburton was more than civil, when necessary, on
these occasions, and would procure such adventurers some slight patron-
age." — Nichols's "Literary Anecdotes," vol. v. d. 636.
Warburton. 275
Aristotle and Longmus.* Hurd is justly characterised by
Warton, in his Spenser, vol. ii. p. 36, as " the most sensible
and ingenious of modern critics." — He was a lover of his
studies ; and he probably was sincere, when he once told a
friend of the literary antiquary Cole, that he would have
* "We are astonished at the boldness of the minor critic, when, even after
the fatal edition of Warburton's Shakspeare, he should still venture, in the
life of his great friend, to assert that "this fine edition must ever be highly-
valued by men of sense and taste ; a spirit congenial to that of the author
breathing throughout !"
Is it possible that the man who wrote this should ever have read the
"Canons of Criticism ?' Yet is it to be supposed that he who took so
lively an interest in the literary fortunes of his friend should not have read
them ? The Warburtonians appear to have adopted one of the principles of
the Jesuits in their controversies, which was to repeat arguments which
had been confuted over and over again ; to insinuate that they had not been
so ! But this was not too much to risk by him who, in his dedication of
"Horace's Epistle to Augustus," with a Commentary, had hardily and
solemnly declared that "Warburton, in his enlarged view of things, had
not only revived the two models of Aristotle and Longinus, but had rather
struck out a new original plan of criticism, which should unite the virtues
of each of them. This experiment was made on the two greatest of our
own poets — Shakspeare and Pope. Still (he adds, addressing Warburton)
you went farther, by joining to those powers a perfect insight into human
nature; and so ennobling the exercise of literary by the justest moral
censure, you have now, at length, advanced criticism to its full glory. ^^
A perpetual intercourse of mutual adulation animated the sovereign and
his viceroy, and, by mutual support, each obtained the same reward : two
mitres crowned the greater and the minor critic. This intercourse was
humorously detected by the lively author of "Confusion Worse Confounded."
— "When the late Duke of K," says he, "kept wild beasts, it was a
common diversion to make two of his bears drunk (not metaphorically with
flattery, but literally with strong ale), and then daub them over with
honey. It was excellent sport to see how lovingly (like a couple of critics)
they would lick and claw one another." It is almost amazing to observe
how Hurd, who naturally was of the most frigid temperament, and the
most subdued feelings, warmed, heated, and blazed in the progressive stages
* ' of that pageantry of praise spread over the Rev. Mr. Warburton, when
the latter was advancing fast towards a bishoprick," to use the words of
Dr. Parr, a sagacious observer of man. However, notwithstanding the
despotic mandates of our Pichrocole and his dapper minister, there were
who did not fear to meet the greater bear of the two so facetiously de-
scribed above. And the author of "Confusion Worse Confounded " tells a,
familiar story, which will enliven the history of our great critic. " One of
the bears mentioned above happened to get loose, and was running along the
street in which a tinker was gravely walking. The people all cried,
* Tinker ! tinker ! beware of the bear !' Upon this Magnauo faced about
with great composure ; and raising his staff, knocked down Bruin, then
setting his arms a-kimbo, walked off very sedately ; only saying, ' Let the
bear beware of the tinker,' which is now become a proverb in those parts.'*
— "Confusion Worse Confounded," p. 75.
t2
276 Quarrels of Authors,
chosen not to quit the university, for he loved retirement ;
and on that principle Cowley was his favourite poet, which he
afterwards showed by his singular edition of that poet. He
was called from the cloistered shades to assume the honour-
able dignity of a Royal Tutor. Had he devoted his days to
literature, he would have still enriched its stores. But he
had other more supple and more serviceable qualifications.
Most adroit was he in all the archery of controversy : he had
the subtlety that can evade the aim of the assailant, and the
slender dexterity, substituted for vigour, that struck when
least expected. The subaltern genius of Hurd required to be
animated by the heroic energy of Warburton ; and the care-
less courage of the chief wanted one who could maintain the
unguarded passages he left behind him in his progress.
Such, then, was Waeburton, and such the quarrels of this
great author. He was, through his literary life, an adven-
turer, guided by that secret principle which opened an imme-
diate road to fame. By opposing the common sentiments of
mankind, he awed and he commanded them ; and by giving a
new face to all things, he surprised, by the appearances of dis-
coveries. All this, so pleasing to his egotism, was not, how-
ever, fortunate for his ambition. To sustain an authority
which he had usurped ; to substitute for the taste he wanted
a curious and dazzling erudition ; and to maintain those reck-
less decisions which so often plunged him into perils. War-
burton adopted his system of Literary Quarrels. These were
the illegitimate means which raised a sudden celebrity, and
which genius kept alive, as long as that genius lasted ; but
Warburton suffered that literary calamity, too protracted a
period of human life : he outlived himself and his fame. This
great and original mind sacrificed all his genius to that secret
principle we have endeavoured to develope — it was a self-
immolation !
The learned Seldeis", in the curious little volume of his
"Table-Talk," has delivered to posterity a precept for the
learned, which they ought to wear, like the Jewish phylac-
teries, as " a frontlet between their eyes." No man is the
wiser for his learning : it may administer matter to work in,
or objects to work upon ; hut wit and wisdom are horn with a
man. Sir Thomas Hanmee, who was well acquainted with
Warburton, during their correspondence about Shakspeare,
often said of him ; — " The only use he could find in Mr. War-
burton was starting the game ; he was not to be trusted in
Warburton. 277
running it down^ A just discrimination ! His fervid curio-
sity was absolutely creative ; but his taste and his judgment,
perpetually stretched out by his system, could not save him
from even inglorious absurdities !
Warburton, it is probable, was not really the character he
appears. It mortifies the lovers of genius to discover how a
natural character may be thrown into a convulsed unnatural
state by some adopted system: it is this system, which,
carrying it, as it were, beyond itself, communicates a more
than natural, but a self-destroying energy. All then becomes
reversed! The arrogant and vituperative Warburton was
only such in his assumed character ; for in still domestic life
he was the creature of benevolence, touched by generous pas-
sions. (^But in public life the artificial or the acquired cha-
racter prevails over the one which nature designed for us ; and ^
by that all public men, as well as authors, are usually judged
by posterity.)
POPE,
AND HIS MISCELLANEOUS QUARRELS.
Pope adopted a system of literary politics — collected with extraordinary
care everything relative to his Quarrels — no politician ever studied to
obtain his purposes by more oblique directions and intricate stratagems —
some of his manoeuvres — his systematic hostility not practised with im-
punity — his claim to his own works contested — Gibber's facetious
description of Pope's feelings, and Welsted's elegant satire on his genius
— Dennis's account of Pope's Introduction to him — his political pru-
dence further discovered in the Collection of all the Pieces relative to the
Dunciad, in which he employed Savage — the Theobaldians and the
PoPEiANS ; an attack by a Theobaldian — The Dunciad ingeniously de-
fended, for the grossness of its imagery, and its reproach of the poverty
of the authors, supposed by Pope himself, with some curious specimens
of literary personalities — the Literary Quarrel between Aaron Hill and
Pope distinguished for its romantic cast — a Narrative of the extraordi-
nary transactions respecting the publication of Pope's Letters ; an ex-
ample of Stratagem and Conspiracy, illustrative of his character.
Pope has proudly perpetuated the history of his Literary
Quarrels ; and he appears to have been among those authors,
surely not forming the majority, who have delighted in, or
have not been averse to provoke, hostility. He has registered
the titles of every book, even to a single paper, or a copy
of verses, in which their authors had committed treason
against his poetical sovereignty.* His ambition seemed gra-
* Pope collected these numerous literary libels with extraordinary care.
He had them bound in volumes of all sizes ; and a range of twelves, octavos,
quartos, and folios were marshalled in portentous order on his shelves.
He wrote the names of the writers, with remarks on these Anonymiana.
He prefixed to them this motto, from Job : "Behold, my desire is, that
mine adversary had written a book : surely I would take it upon my
shoulder, and bind it as a crown to me." xxxi. 35, Ruffhead, who wrote
Pope's Life under the eye of Warburton, who revised every sheet of the
volume, and suffered this mere lawyer and singularly wretched critic to
write on, with far inferior taste to his own — offered "the entire collection
to any public library or museum, whose search is after curiosities, and may
be desirous of enriching their common treasure with it : it will be freely at
the service of that which asks first." Did no one accept the invitation ?
As this was written in 1769, it is evidently pointed towards the Britiah
Pope,
279
tified in heaping these trophies to his genius, while his meaner
passions could compile one of the most voluminous of the
scandalous chronicles of literature. We are mortified on dis-
covering so fine a genius in the text humbling itself through
all the depravity of a commentary full of spleen, and not with-
out the fictions of satire. The unhappy influence his Literary
Quarrels had on this great poet's life remains to be traced.
Museum ; but there I have not heard of it. This collection must have
contained much of the Secret Memoirs of Grub-street ; it was always a
fountain whence those "waters of bitterness," the notes in the Duneiad,
were readily supplied. It would be curious to discover by what stratagem
Pope obtained all that secret intelligence about his Dunces, with which he
has burthened posterity, for his own particular gratification. Arbutbnot,
it is said, wrote some notes merely literary ; but Savage, and still humbler
agents, served him as his Bspions de Police. He pensioned Savage to his
last day, and never deserted him. In the account of "the phantom Moore,"
Scriblerus appeals to Savage to authenticate some story. One curious
instance of the fruits of Savage's researches in this way he has himself pre-
served, in his memoirs of "An Author to be Let, by Iscariot Hackney."
This portrait of "a perfect Town- Author" is not deficient in spirit : the
hero was one Roome, a man only celebrated in the Dunciad for his "fune-
real frown." But it is uncertain whether this fellow had really so dismal
a countenance ; for the epithet was borrowed from his profession, being the
son of an undertaker ! Such is the nature of some satire ! Dr. Warton
is astonished, or mortified, for he knew not which, to see the pains and
patience of Pope and his friends in compiling the Notes to the Dunciad, to
trace out the lives and works of such paltry and forgotten scribblers. * * It
is like walking through the darkest alleys in the dirtiest part of St. Griles's."
Very true ! But may we not be allowed to detect the vanities of human
nature at St. Giles's as well as St. James's ? Authors, however obscure,
are always an amusing race to authors. The greatest find their own
passions in the least, though distoi-ted, or cramped in too small a compass.
It is doubtless from Pope's great anxiety for his own literary celebrity that
we have been furnished with so complete a knowledge of the grotesque groups
in the Dunciad. "Give me a shilling," said Swift, facetiously, "and I
will insure you that posterity shall never know one single enemy, excepting
those whose memory you have preserved." A very useful hint for a man
of genius to leave his wretched assailants to dissolve away in their own
weakness. But Pope, having written a Dunciad, by accompanying it with
a commentary, took the only method to interest posterity. He felt that
Boileau's satires on bad authors are liked only in the degree the objects
alluded to are known. But he loved too much the subject for its own sake.
He abused the powers genius had conferred on him, as other imperial sove-
reigns have done. It is said that he kept the whole kingdom in awe of him.
In "the frenzy and prodigality of vanity," he exclaimed —
" Yes, I am proud to see
Men, not afraid of God, afraid of me !"
Tacitus Gordon said of him, that Pope seemed to persuade the nation
that all genius and ability were confined to him and his friends.
280 Quarrels of Authors.
He adopted a system of literary politics abounding with
stratagems, conspiracies, manoeuvres, and factions.
Pope's literary quarrels were the wars of his poetical ambi-
tion, more perhaps than of the petulance and strong irri-
tability of his character. They were some of the artifices he
adopted from the peculiarity of his situation.
Thrown out of the active classes of society from a variety
of causes sufficiently known,* concentrating his passions into
a solitary one, his retired life was passed in the contemplation
of his own literary greatness. Reviewing the past, and anti-
cipating the future, he felt he was creating a new era in our
literature, an event which does not always occur in a century :
but eager to secure present celebrity, with the victory obtained
in the open field, he combined the intrigues of the cabinet :
thus, while he was exerting great means, he practised little
artifices. No politician studied to obtain his purposes by
more oblique directions, or with more intricate stratagems ;
and Pope was at once the lion and the fox of Machiavel.
A book might be written on the Stratagems of Literature, as
Frontinus has composed one on War, and among its subtilest
heroes we might place this great poet.
To keep his name alive before the public was one of his
early plans. When he published his " Essay on Criticism,"
anonymously, the young and impatient poet was mortified
with the inertion of public curiosity : he was almost in de-
spair.f Twice, perhaps oftener, Pope attacked Pope;J and
* Pope, in his energetic Letter to Lord Hervet, that " majsterpiece of
invective," says Warton, which Tyers tells us he kept long back from pub-
lishing, at the desire of Queen Caroline, who was fearful her counsellor
would become insignificant in the public esteem, and at last in her own,
such was the power his genius exercised ; — has pointed out one of these
causes. It describes himself as "a private person under penal laws, and
many other disadvantages, not for want of honesty or conscience ; yet it is
by these alone I have hitherto lived excluded from all posts of profit or
trust. I can interfere with the views of no man."
+ The first publisher of the "Essay on Criticism" must have been a
Mr. Lewis, a Catholic bookseller in Covent-garden ; for, from a descendant
»f this Lewis, I heard that Pope, after publication, came every day, perse-
cuting with anxious inquiries the cold impenetrable bookseller, who, as the
poem lay uncalled for, saw nothing but vexatious importunities in a
troublesome youth. One day. Pope, after nearly a month's publication,
entered, and in despair tied up a number of the poems, which he addressed
to several who had a reputation in town, as judges of poetry. The
scheme succeeded, and the poem, having reached its proper circle, soon got
into request.
Z He was the author of " The Key to the Lock," written to show that
Pope. 281
he frequently concealed himself under the names of others,
for some particular design. Not to point out his dark fami-
liar " Scriblerus," always at hand for all purposes, he made use
of the names of several of his friends. When he employed
Savage in " a collection of all the pieces, in verse and prose,
published on occasion of the Dunciad,^^ he subscribed his
name to an admirable dedication to Lord Middlesex, where he
minutely relates the whole history of the Dtmciad, " and the
weekly clubs held to consult of hostilities against the author ;
and, for an express introduction to that work, he used the
name of Cleland, to which is added a note, expressing surprise
that the world did not believe that Cleland was the writer !*
**The Rape of the Lock" was a political poem, designed to ridicule the
Barrier Treaty ; [so called from the arrangement made at the Peace of
Utrecht between the ministers of Great Britain and the States General, as
to the towns on the frontiers of the Dutch, which were to be permanently
strengthened as barner fortresses. Pope, in the mask of Esdras Bamivelt,
apothecary, thus makes out his poem to be a political satire. *' Having said
that by the lock is meant the Barrier Treaty — first then I shall discover,
that Belinda represents Great Britain, or (which is the same thing) her late
Majesty. This is plainly seen in the description of her,
** On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore."
Alluding to the ancient name of Albion, from her white cliffs, and to the
cross which is the ensign of England. The baron who cuts off the lock, or
Barrier Treaty, is the Earl of Oxford. Clarissa, who lent the scissors, my
Lady Masham. Thalestris, who provokes Belinda to resent the loss of the
lock or treaty, the Duchess of Marlborough ; and Sir Plume, who is moved
by Thalestris to re-demand it of Great Britain, Prince Eugene, who came
hither for that purpose." He concludes 32 pages of similar argument by
saying, *' I doubt not if the persons most concerned would but order Mr.
Bernard Lintott, the printer and publisher of this dangerous piece, to be
taken into custody and examined, many further discoveries might be made
both of this poet's and his abettors secret designs, which are doubtless of
the utmost importance to Government." Such is a specimen of Pope's
chicanery.] Its innocent extravagance could only have been designed to
increase attention to a work, which hardly required any such artifice. [In
the preface to this production, "the uncommon sale of this book" is stated
as one reason for the publication ; ** above six thousand of them have been
already vended."] In the same spirit he composed the "Guardian," in
which Phillips's Pastorals were insidiously preferred to his own. Pope sent
this ironical, panegyrical criticism on Phillips anonymously to the *' Guar-
dian," and Steele not perceiving the drift, hesitated to publish it, till Pope
advised it. Addison detected it. I doubt whether we have discovered all
the supercheries of this kind. After writing the finest works of genius,
he was busily employed in attracting the public attention to them. In the
antithesis of his character, he was so great and so little ! But he knew
mankind ! and present fame was the great business of his life.
* Cleland was the son of Colonel Cleland, an old friend of Pope ; he
and his son had served in the East Indian army ; but the latter returned
282 Quarrels of Authors.
Wanting a pretext for the publication of his letters, he de-
lighted CuELL by conveying to him some printed surreptitious
copies, who soon discovered that it was but a fairy treasure
which he could not grasp ; and Pope, in his own defence, had
soon ready the authentic edition.* Some lady observed that
Pope " hardly drank tea without a stratagem !" The female
genius easily detects its own peculiar faculty, when it is exer-
cised with inferior delicacy.
But his systematic hostility did not proceed with equal
impunity : in this perpetual war with dulness, he discovered
that every one he called a dunce was not so ; nor did he find
the dunces themselves less inconvenient to him ; for many
successfully substituted, for their deficiencies in better quali-
ties, the lie that lasts long enough to vex a man ; and the
insolence that does not fear him : they attacked him at all
points, and not always in the spirit of legitimate warfare.f
They filled up his asterisks, and accused him of treason. They
asserted that the panegyrical verses prefixed to his works (an
obsolete mode of recommendation, which Pope condescended
to practise), were his own composition, and to which he had
affixed the names of some dead or some unknown writers. They
to London, and became a sort of literary jackal to Pope, and a hack
author for the booksellers. He wrote several moral and useful works ;
but as they did not pay well, he wrote an immoral one, for which he
obtained a better price, and a pension of lOOZ. a-year, on condition that
he never wrote in that manner again. This was obtained for him by Lord
Granville, after Cleland had been cited before the Privy Council, and
pleaded poverty as the reason for such authorship. — Ed.
* The narrative of this dark transaction, which seems to have been
imperfectly known to Johnson, being too copious for a note, will be found
at the close of this article.
t A list of all the pamphlets which resulted from the Dunciad would
occupy a large space. Many of them were as grossly personal as the cele-
brated poem. The poet was frequently ridiculed under the names of * ' Pope
Alexander" (from his dictatorial style), and "Sawney." In "an heroic
poem occasioned by the Dunciad," published in 1728, the poet's snug
retreat at Twickenham is thus alluded to : —
" Sawney ! a mimic sage of huge renown.
To Twick'nam bow'rs retir'd, enjoys his wealth,
His malice and his muse : in grottoes cool,
And cover'd arbours, dreams his hours away."
A fragment of Pope's celebrated grotto still remains; the house is
destroyed. Pope spent all his spare cash over his Twickenham villa.
"I never save anything," he said once to Spence ; and the latter has left
a detailed account of what he meant to do in the further decoration of his
garden if he had lived. As he gained a sum of money, he regularly spent
it in this way. — Ed.
Pope. 283
published lists of all whom Pope had attacked ; placing at the
head, " God Almighty ; the King ;" descending to the " lords
and gentlemen."* A few suspected his skill in Greek ; but
every hound yelped in the halloo against his Homer.f Yet
the more extraordinary circumstance was, their hardy disputes
with Pope respecting his claim to his own works, and the
difficulty he more than once found to establish his rights.
Sometimes they divided pubhc opinion by even indicating the
* Pope is, perhaps, the finest character-painter of all satirists.
Atterbury, after reading the portrait of Atticus, advised him to proceed
in a way which his genius had pointed out ; but Arbuthnot, with his
dying breath, conjured him * ' to reform, and not to chastise ;" that is,
not to spare the vice, but the person. It is said, Pope answered, that, to
correct the world with due effect, they become inseparable ; and that,
deciding by his own experience, he was justified in his opinion. Perhaps,
at first, he himself wavered ; but he strikes bolder as he gathers strength.
The two first editions of the JDunciad, now before me, could hardly be
intelligible : they exhibit lines after lines gaping with an hiatus, or obscured
with initial letters : in subsequent editions, the names stole into their
places. We are told, that the personalities in his satires quickened the
sale : the portraits of Sporus, Bufo, Clodius, Timon, and Atossa, were
purchased by everybody ; but when he once declared, respecting the cha-
racters of one of his best satires, that no real persons were intended, it
checked public curiosity, which was felt in the sale of that edition. Per-
sonality in his satires, no doubt, accorded with the temper and the talent of
Pope ; and the malice of mankind afforded him all the conviction necessary
to indulge it. Yet Young could depend solely on abstract characters and
pure wit ; and I believe that his '* Love of Fame" was a series of admirable
satires, which did not obtain less popularity than Pope's. Cartwright, one
of the poetical sons of Ben Jonson, describes, by a beautiful and original
image, the office of the satirist, though he praises Jonson for exercising a
virtue he did not always practise ; as Swift celebrates Pope with the same
truth, when he sings : —
** Yet malice never was his aim ;
He lash'd the vice, but spared the name."
Cartwright' s lines are : —
" 'tis thy skill
To strike the vice, and spare the person still ;
As he who, when he saw the serpent wreath'd
About his sleeping son, and as he breathed,
Drink in his soul, did so the shot contrive,
To kill the beast, but keep the child alive.'*
f Cooke, the translator of Hesiod, published a letter in Mist's Journal,
insisting that Pope had mistaken the whole character of ITiersites, from
ignorance of the language. I regret I have not drawn some notes from
that essay. The subject might be made curious by a good Grreek scholar,
if Pope has really erred in the degree Cooke asserts. Theobald, who
seems to have been a more classical scholar than has been allowed, besides
some versions from the Greek tragic bards, commenced a translation of the
Odyssey as soon as Pope's Iliad appeared.
S84 Quarrels of Authors.
real authors ; and witnesses from "White's and St James's
were ready to be produced. Among these literary coteries,
several of Pope's productions, in their anonymous, and even
in their MS. state, had been appropriated by several pseudo
authors ; and when Pope called for restitution, he seemed to
be claiming nothing less tban their lives. One of these
gentlemen had enjo^'^ed a very fair reputation for more than
two years on the " Memoirs of a Parish-Clerk ;" another, on
"The Messiah!" and there were many other vague- claims.
All this was vexatious ; but not so much as the ridiculous
attitude in which Pope was sometimes placed by his enraged
adversaries.* He must have found himself in a more perilous
situation when he hired a brawny champion, or borrowed the
generous courage of some military friend.f To all these
* In one of these situations, Pope issued a very grave, but very ludi-
crous, advertisement. They had the impudence to publish an account of
Pope having been flagellated by two gentlemen in Ham Walks, during his
evening promenade. This was avenging Dennis for what he had under-
gone from the narrative of his madness. In ' ' The Memoirs of Grub-street,"
vol. i. p. 96, this tingling narrative appears to have been the ingenious
forgery of Lady Mary ! On this occasion, Pope thought it necessary to pub-
lish the following advertisement in the Daily Post, June 14, 1728 : —
"Whereas, there has been a scandalous paper cried aloud about the
streets, under the title of ' A Pop upon Pope,' insinuating that I was
whipped in Ham Walks on Thursday last : — This is to give notice, that I
did not stir out of my house at Twickenham on that day ; and the same
is a malicious and ill-founded report. — A. P."
[S pence, on the authority of Pope's half-sister, says : "When some of the
people that he had put into the Dunciad were so enraged against him, and
threatened him so highly, he loved to walk alone to Richmond, only he
would take a large faithful dog with him, and pistole in his pocket. He
used to say to us when we talked to him about it, that *' with pistols the
least man in England was above a match for the largest."]
It seems that Phillips hung up a birchen-rod at Button's. Pope, in one
of his letters, congratulates himself that he never attempted to use it.
[His half-sister, Mrs. Rackett, testifies to Pope's courage; she says, "My
brother never knew what fear was"]
i" According to the scandalous chronicle of the day. Pope, shortly after the
publication of the Dunciad, had a tall Irishmant o attend him. Colonel
Duckett threatened to cane him, for a licentious stroke aimed at him,
whicli Pope recanted. Thomas Bentley, nephew to the doctor, for the
treatment his uncle had received, sent Pope a challenge. The modem, like
the ancient Horace, was of a nature liable to panic at such critical mo-
ments. Pope consulted some military friends, who declared that his
person ought to protect him from any such redundance of valour as was
thus formally required ; however, one of them accepted the challenge for
him, and gave Bentley the option either of fighting or apologising ; who,
on this occasion, proved, what is usual, that the easiest of the two was the
quickest done.
Pope,
285
troubles we may add, that Pope has called down on himself
more lasting vengeance ; and the good sense of Theobald, the
furious but often acute remarks of Dennis ; the good
humoured yet keen remonstrance of Gibber ; the silver shaft,
tipped with venom, sent from the injured but revengeful Lady
Mary ; and many a random shot, that often struck him, in-
flicted on him many a sleepless night.* The younger
Kichardson has recorded the personal sufferings of Pope when,
one day, in taking up Gibber's letter, while his face was writh-
ing with agony, he feebly declared that " these things were
as good as hartshorn to him;" but he appeared at that
* I shall preserve one specimen, so classically elegant, that Pope himself
might have composed it. It is from the pen of that Leonard Welsted
whose "Aganippe" Pope has so shamefully characterised —
" Flow, Welsted, flow, like thine inspirer, beer !"
Can the reader credit, after this, that Welsted, who was clerk in ordi-
nary at the Ordnance Office, was a man of family and independence, of ele-
gant manners and a fine fancy, but who considered poetry only as a passing
amusement ? He has, however, left behind, amid the careless productions
of his muse, some passages wrought up with equal felicity and -power.
There are several original poetical views of nature scattered in his works,
which have been collected by Mr. Nichols, that would admit of a com-
parison with some of established fame.
Welsted imagined that the spirit of English poetry was on its decline in
the age of Pope, and allegorises the state of our poetry in a most inge-
nious comparison. The picture is exquisitely wrought, like an ancient
gem : one might imagine Anacreon was turned critic : —
" A flask I rear'd whose sluice began to fail,
And told, from Phserus, this facetious tale : —
Sabina, very old and very dry,
Chanced, on a time, an empty flask to spy :
The flask but lately had been thrown aside,
With the rich grape of Tuscan vineyards dyed ;
But lately, gushing from the slender spout,
Its life, in purple streams, had issued out.
The costly flavour still to sense remain' d.
And still its sides the violet colour stain' d :
A sight so sweet taught wrinkled age to smile ;
Pleased, she imbibes the generous fumes awhile,
Then, downwards turn'd, the vessel gently props,
And drains with patient care the lucid drops :
balmy spirit of Etruria's vine !
fragrant flask, she said, too lately mine !
If such delights, though empty, thou canst yield,
What wondrous raptures hadst thou given if filled !"
Falcemon to Ccelia at Bath, or the Triumvirate.
" The empty flask" only retaining "the costly flavour," was the verse of
Pope.
286 Quarrels of Authors.
moment rather to want a little. And it is probably true,
what Gibber facetiously says of Pope, in his second letter : —
" Everybody tells me that I have made you as uneasy as a
rat in a hot kettle, for a twelvemonth together." *
Pope was pursued through life by the insatiable vengeance
of Dennis. The young poet, who had got introduced to him,
among his first literary acquaintances, could not fail, when
the occasion presented itself, of ridiculing this uncouth son of
Aristotle. The blow was given in the character of Appius, in
the "Art of Criticism ;" and it is known Appius was instan-
taneously recognised by the fierce shriek of the agonised
critic himself. From that moment Dennis resolved to write
down every work of Pope's. How dang^'ous to offend cer-
tain tempers, verging on madness If Dennis, too, called on
every one to join him in the common cause ; and once he
retaliated on Pope in his own way. Accused by Pope of
being the writer of an account of himself, in Jacob's " Lives
of the Poets," Dennis procured a letter from Jacob, which he
published, and in which it appears that Pope's own character
in this collection, if not written by him, was by him very
carefully corrected on the proof-sheet ; so that he stood in
the same ridiculous attitude into which he had thrown
Dennis, as his own trumpeter. Dennis, whose brutal energy
* Pope was made to appear as ridiculous as possible, and often nick-
named ** Poet Pug," from the frontispiece to an attack in reply to his own,
termed "Pope Alexander's Supremacy and Infallibility examined." It
represents Pope as a misshapen monkey leaning on a pile of books, in the
attitude adopted by Jervas in his portrait of the poet. — Ed.
+ Dennis tells the whole story. ** At his first coming to town he was
importunate with Mr. Cromwell to introduce him to me. The recommen-
dation engaged me to be about thrice in company with him ; after which I
went to the country, till I found myself most insolently attacked in his very
superficial ' Essay on Criticism,' by which he endeavoured to destroy the
reputation of a man who had published pieces of criticism, and to set up
his own. I was moved with indignation to that degree, that I immediately
writ remarks on that essay. I also writ upon part of his translation of
'Homer,' his 'Windsor Forest,' and his infamous 'Temple of Fame.'"
In the same pamphlet he says : — " Pope writ his ' Windsor Forest' in envy
of Sir John Denham's 'Cooper's Hill;' his infamous 'Temple of Fame'
in envy of Chaucei-'s poem upon the same subject ; his ' Ode on St.
Cecilia's Day,' in envy of Dryden's ' Feast of Alexander.' " In reproaching
Pope with his peculiar rhythm, that monotonous excellence, which soon
became mechanical, he has an odd attempt at a pun ; — " Boileau's Pegasus
has all his paces ; the Pegasus of Pope, like a Kentish post-horse, is always
upon the Canterbury." — "Remarks upon several Passages in the Prelimi-
.naries to the ^it»iaarf," 1729.
Pope. 287
remained unsubdued, was a rhinoceros of a critic, shelled up
against the arrows of wit. This monster of criticism awed
the poet ; and Dennis proved to be a Python, whom the
golden shaft of Apollo could not pierce.
The political prudence of Pope was further discovered in
the " Collection of all the Pieces relative to the Dunciad,'^
on which he employed Savage : these exemplified the just-
ness of the satire, or defended it from all attacks. The pre-
cursor of the Dunciad was a single chapter in " The
Bathos; or, the Art of Sinking in Poetry;" where the
humorous satirist discovers an analogy between flying-fishes,
parrots, tortoises, &c., and certain writers, whose names are
designated by initial letters. In this unlucky alphabet of
dunces, not on(i of them but was applied to some writer of
the day ; and the loud clamours these excited could not be
appeased by the simplicity of our poet's declaration, that the
letters were placed at random : and while his oil could not
smooth so turbulent a sea, every one swore to the flying-fish
or the tortoise, as he had described them. It was still more
serious when the Dunciad appeared. Of that class of
authors who depended for a wretched existence on their
wages, several were completely ruined, for no purchasers were
to be found for the works of some authors, after they had
been inscribed in the chronicle of our provoking and inimi-
table satirist.*
* Two parties arose in the literary republic, the Theohaldians and the
Popeiam. The " Grub-street Journal, " a kind of literary gazette of some
campaigns of the time, records the skirmishes with tolerable neutrality,
though with a strong leaning in favour of the prevailing genius.
The Popeians did not always do honour to their great leader ; and the
Theohaldians proved themselves, at times, worthy of being engaged, had
fate so ordered it, in the army of their renowned enemy. When Young
published his "Two Epistles to Pope, on the Authors of the Age," there
appeared " One Epistle to Mr, A. Pope, in Answer to two of Dr. Young's."
On this, a Popeian defends his master from some extravagant accusations
in *' The Grub-street Memoirs." He insists, as his first principle, that all
accusations against a man's character without an attestor are presumed to
be slanders and lies, and in this case every gentleman, though '* Knight of
the Bathos," is merely a liar and scoundrel.
*' You assure us he is not only a bad poet, but a stealer from bad poets :
if so, you have just cause to complain of invasion of property. You assure
■Qs he is not even a versifier, but steals the sound of his verses ; now, to
steal a sound is as ingenious as to paint an echo. You cannot he&T gentle-
men should be treated as vermin and reptiles ; now, to be impartial, you
were compared io flying -fishes, didappers, tortoises, Kn^ parrots, &c., not
vermin, but curious and beautiful creatures" — alluding to the abuse, in
288 Quarrels of Authors.
It is in this collection by Savage I find the writer's admi-
rable satire on the class of literary prostitutes. It is entitled
" An Author to be Let, by Iscariot Hackney." It has been
ably commended by Johnson in his " Life of Savage," and
on his recommendation Thomas Davies inserted it in hi?
" Collection of Fugitive Pieces ;" but such is the careless cu-
riosity of modern re-publishers, that often, in preserving a
decayed body, they are apt to drop a limb ; this was the case
with Davies ; for he has dropped the preface, far more ex-
quisite than the work itself. A morsel of such poignant
relish betrays the hand of the master who snatched the pen
for a moment.
This preface defends Pope from the two great objections
justly raised at the time against the Dunciad : one is, the
grossness and filthiness of its imagery ; and the other, its
reproachful allusions to the poverty of the authors.
The indelicacies of the Dwiciad are thus wittily apolo-
gised for : —
" They are suitable to the subject ; a subject composed, for
the most part, of authors whose writings are the refuse of
this "Epistle," on such authors asAtterbury, Arbuthnot, Swift, the Duke
of Buckingham, &c. The Popeian concludes : —
* ' After all, your poem, to comfort you, is more innocent than the Dun-
dad ; for in the one there's no man abused but is very well pleased to be
abused in such company ; whereas in the other there's no man so much as
named, but is extremely affronted to be ranked with such people as style
each other the dullest of men."
The publication of the Dunciad, however, drove the Theobaldians
out of the field. Guerillas, such as the "One Epistle," sometimes
appeared, but their heroes struck and skulked away. A Theobaldian, in
an epigram, compared the Dunciad of Pope to the offspring of the
celebrated Pope Joan. The neatness of his wit is hardly blunted by a pun.
He who talks of Pope's " stealing a sound," seems to have practised that
invisible art himself, for the verse is musical as Pope's.
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE DUNCIAD.
"With rueful eyes thou view'st thy wretched race,
The child of guilt, and destined to disgrace.
Thus when famed Joan usurp'd the Pontiff's chair,
With terror she beheld her new-born heir :
Ill-starr'd, Ul-favour'd into birth it can e ;
In vice begotten, and brought forth with shame !
In vain it breathes, a lewd abandon' d hope !
And calls in vain, the unballow'd father — Pope !"
The answers to this epigram by the Popeians are too gross. The *' One
Epistle " is attributed to James Moore Smyth, in alliance with Welsted
and other unfortunate heroes.
Pope, 289
wit, and who in life are the very excrement of Nature. Mr.
Pope has, too, used dung ; but he disposes that dung in such
a manner that it becomes rich manure, from which he raises
a variety of fine flowers. He deals in rags; but like an
artist, who commits them to a paper-mill, and brings them
out useful sheets. The chemist extracts a fine cordial from
the most nauseous of all dung ; and Mr. Pope has drawn a
sweet poetical spirit from the most offensive and unpoetical
objects of the creation — unpoetical, though eternal writers
of poetry."
The reflections on the poverty of its heroes are thus inge-
niously defended : — " Poverty, not proceeding from folly, but
which may be owing to virtue, sets a man in an amiable
light ; but when our wants are of our own seeking, and prove
the motive of every ill action (for the poverty of bad authors
has always a bad heart for its companion), is it not a vice,
and properly the subject of satire ?" The preface then pro-
ceeds to show how " all these said writers might have been
good mechanics^ He illustrates his principles with a most
ungracious account of several of his contemporaries. I shall
give a specimen of what I consider as the polished sarcasm
and caustic humour of Pope, on some favourite subjects.
" Mr. Thomas CooTce. — His enemies confess him not with-
out merit. To do the man justice, he might have made a
tolerable figure as a Tailor. 'Twere too presumptuous to
affirm he could have been a master in any profession ; but,
dull as I allow him, he would not have been despicable for a
third or a fourth hand journeyman. Then had his wants
have been avoided ; for, he would at least hcive learnt to cut
his coat according to his cloth.
" Why would not Mr. Theobald continue an attorney ? Is
nor Word-catching more serviceable in splitting a cause, than
explaining a fine poet ?
" When Mrs. Haywood ceased to be a strolling-actress, why
might not the lady (though once a theatrical queen) have
subsisted by turning washerwoman? Has not the fall of
greatness been a frequent distress in all ages ? She might
have caught a beautiful bubble, as it arose from the suds of
her tub, blown it in air, seen it glitter, and then break!
Even in this low condition, she had played with a bubble ;
and what more is the vanity of human greatness ?
" Had it not been an honester and more decent livelihood
for Mr. Norton (Daniel De Foe's son of love by a lady who
290 Quarrels of Authors.
vended oysters) to have dealt in a JtsJi-marhet, than to be
dealing out the dialects of Billingsgate in the Flying-post ?
" Had it not been more laudable for Mr. Roome, the son of
an undertaker^ to have borne a link and a mourning-staff,
in the long procession of a funeral — or even been more decent
in him to have sung psalms, according to education, in an
Anabaptist meeting, than to have been altering the Jovial
Crew, or Merry Beggars^ into a wicked imitation of the
JBeggar^s OferaV*
This satire seems too exquisite for the touch of Savage, and
is quite in the spirit of the author of the JDunciad. There
is, in Ruffhead's " Life of Pope," a work to which Warburton
contributed all his care, a passage which could only have been
written by Warburton. The strength and coarseness of the
imagery could never have been produced by the dull and
feeble intellect of Ruff head : it is the opinion, therefore, of
Warburton himself, on the JDunciad. " The good purpose
intended by this satire was, to the herd in general, of less
efficacy than our author hoped ; for scribblers have not the
common sense of other vermin, who usually abstain from
mischief, when they see any of their kind gibbeted or nailed
up, as terrible examples." — Warburton employed the same
strong image in one of his threats.
One of Pope's Literary Quarrels must be distinguished for
its romantic cast.
In the Treatise on the Bathos, the initial letters of the
bad writers occasioned many heartburns ; and, among others,
Aaron Hill suspected he was marked out by the letters A. H.
This gave rise to a large correspondence between Hill and
Pope. Hill, who was a very amiable man, was infinitely too
susceptible of criticism ; and Pope, who seems to have had
a personal regard for him, injured those nice feelings as little
as possible. Hill had published a panegyrical poem on Peter
the Great, under the title of " The Northern Star ;" and the
bookseller had conveyed to him a criticism of Pope's, of
which Hill publicly acknowledged he mistook the meaning.
When the TreatisQ of "The Bathos" appeared, Pope insisted
he had again mistaken the initials A. H. — Hill gently at-
tacked Pope in " a paper of very pretty verses," as Pope calls
them. When the Dunciad appeared, Hill is said " to have
published pieces, in his youth, bordering upon the bombast."
This was as light a stroke as could be inflicted ; and which
Pope, with great good-humour, tells Hill, might be equally
Pope. 291
applied to himself; for he always acknowledged, that when a
boy, he had written an Epic poem of that description ; would
often quote absurd verses from it, for the diversion of his
friends ; and actually inserted some of the most extravagant
ones in the very Treatise on "The Bathos." Poor Hill,
however, was of the most sickly delicacy, and produced " The
Caveat," another gentle rebuke, where Pope is represented as
" sneakingly to approve, and want the worth to cherish or
befriend men of merit." In the course of this correspon-
dence. Hill seems to have projected the utmost stretch of his
innocent malice ; for he told Pope, that he had almost finished
"An Essay on Propriety and Impropriety in Design, Thought,
and Expression, illustrated by examples in both kinds, from
the writings of Mr. Pope ;" but he offers, if this intended
work should create the least pain to Mr. Pope, he was willing,
with all his heart, to have it run thus : — " An Essay on Pro-
priety and Impropriety, &c., illustrated by Examples of the
first, from the writings of Mr. Pope, and of the rest, from
those of the author." — To the romantic generosity of this ex-
traordinary proposal, Pope replied, "I acknowledge your
generous offer, to give examples of imperfections rather out
of your own worhs than mine : I consent, with all my heart,
to your confining them to mine, for two reasons : the one,
that I fear your sensibility that way is greater than my own :
the other is a better ; namely, that I intend to correct the
faults you find, if they are such as I expect from Mr. Hill's
cool judgment."*
Where, in literary history, can be found the parallel <tf
such an offer of self-immolation ? This was a literary quarrel
like that of lovers, where to hurt each other would have given
pain to both parties. Such skill and desire to strike, with
so much tenderness in inflicting a wound ; so much compli-
ment, with so much complaint; have perhaps never met toge-
ther, as in the romantic hostility of this literary chivalry.
• The six Letters are preserved in Ruff head's Appendix, No. 1.
v2
292
A NARRATIVE
OP THE EXTRAORDINARY TRANSACTIONS RESPECTING THE
PUBLICATION OF POPE'S LETTERS.
Johnson observes, that "one of the passages of Pope's life
which seems to deserve some inquiry, was the pubHcation of
his letters by Curll, the rapacious bookseller."* Our great
literary biographer has expended more research on this occa-
sion than his usual penury of literary history allowed ; and
yet has only told the close of the strange transaction — the
previous parts are more curious, and the whole cannot be
separated. Joseph Warton has only transcribed Johnson's
narrative. It is a piece of literary history of an uncommon
complexion ; and it is worth the pains of telling, if Pope, as
I consider him to be, was the subtile weaver of a plot, whose
texture had been close enough for any political conspiracy.
It throws a strong light on the portrait I have touched of
him. He conducted all his literary transactions with the
arts of a Minister of State ; and the genius which he wasted on
this literary stratagem, in which he so completely succeeded,
might have been perhaps sufficient to have organised rebellion.
It is well known that the origin of Pope's first letters
given to the public, arose from the distresses of a cast-off
mistress of one of his old friends (H. Cromwell), f who had
* Curll was a bookseller, from whose shop issued many works of an
immoral class, yet he chose for his sign ** The Bible and Dial," which were
displayed over his shop in Fleet-street. The satire of Pope's Dunciad
seems fairly to have been earned, as we may judge from the class of books still
seen in the libraries of curious collectors, and which are certainly unfitted
for more general circulation. For these publications he was fined by the
Court of King's Bench, and on one occasion stood in the pillory as a punish-
ment. Yet himself and Lintot were the chief booksellers of the era, until
Tonson arose, and by taking a more enlarged view of the trade, laid the
foundation of the great publishing houses of modern times. — Ed.
f Cromwell was one of the gay young men who frequented coflfee-houses
and clubs when Pope, also a young man, did the same, and corresponded
freely with him for a few years, when the intimacy almost entirely ceased.
The lady was a Mrs. Thomas, who became a sort of literary hack to Curll,
and is celebrated in the Dunciad under the name of Corinna. Roscoe,
in his edition of Pope, says, ' ' Of Henry Cromwell little is known, further
than what is learnt from this correspondence, from which he appears to have
been a man of respectable ^connections, talents, and education, and to have in-
termingled pretty freely in the gallantries of fashionable life." He seems to
have been somewhat eccentric, and the correspondence of Pope only lasted
from 1708 to 1711.— Ed.
Pope and Curll 293
given her the letters of Pope, which she knew how to value :
these she afterwards sold to Curll, who preserved the originals
in his shop, so that no suspicions could arise of their authen-
ticity. This very collection is now deposited among E-awlin-
son's MSS. at the Bodleian.*
This single volume was successful ; and when Pope, to do
justice to the memory of Wycherley, which had been injured
by a posthumous volume, printed some of their letters, Curll,
who seemed now to consider that all he could touch was his
own property, and that his little volume might serve as a
foundation-stone, immediately announced a new edition of it,
with Additions, meaning to include the letters of Pope and
Wycherley. Curll now became so fond of Pope's Letters,
that he advertised for any: "no questions to be asked."
Curll was willing to be credulous : having proved to the
world he had some originals, he imagined these would sanc-
tion even spurious one. A man who, for a particular purpose,
sought to be imposed on, easily obtained his wish : they
translated letters of Voiture to Mademoiselle Rambouillet,
and despatched them to the eager Bibliopolist to print, as
Pope's to Miss Blount. He went on increasing his collec-
tion ; and, skilful in catering for the literary taste of the
town, now inflamed their appetite by dignifying it with " Mr.
Pope's Literary Correspondence !"
But what were the feelings of Pope during these successive
surreptitious editions ? He had discovered that his genuine
letters were liked ; the grand experiment with the public had
been made for him, while he was deprived of the profits ; yet
for he himself to publish his own letters, which I shall prove
he had prepared, was a thing unheard of in the nation. All
this was vexatious ; and to stop the book-jobber and open the
market for himself, was a point to be obtained.
While Curll was proceeding, wind and tide in his favour,
a new and magnificent prospect burst upon him. A certain
person, masked by the initials P. T., understanding Curll
was preparing a Life of Pope, offered him " divers Memoirs
gratuitously;" hinted that he was well known to Pope; but
the poet had lately "treated him as a stranger." P. T. de-
sires an answer from E. C. by the Daily Advertiser, which
was complied with. There are passages in this letter which,
* Pope, in his conversations with Spence, says, ** My letters to Cromwell
■were written with a design that does not generally appear : they were not
written in sober sadness." — Ed.
S94 Quarrels of Authors.
I think, prove Pope to be the projector of it : his family is
here said to be allied to Lord Dovvne's ; his father is called a
merchant. Pope could not bear the reproach of Lady Mary's
line : —
Hard as thy heart, and as thy birth obscure.
He always hinted at noble relatives ; but Tyers tells us, from
the information of a relative, that " his father turns out, at
last, to have been a linen-draper in the Strand :" therefore
P. T. was at least telling a story which Pope had no objec-
tion should be repeated.
The second letterof P. T., for the first was designed only
to break the ice, offers Curll " a large Collection of Letters
from the early days of Pope to the year 1727." He gives
an excellent notion of their value : " They will open very
many scenes new to the world, and make the most authentic
Life and Memoirs that could be." He desires they may be
announced to the world immediately, in Curll's precious style,
that he " might not appear himself to have set the whole
thing a-foot, and afterwards he might plead he had only sent
some letters to complete the Collection." He asks nothing,
and the originals were offered to be deposited with Curll.
Curll, secure of this promised addition, but still craving for
more and more, composed a magnificent announcement, which,
with P. T.'s entire correspondence, he enclosed in a letter to
Pope himself. The letters were now declared to be a " Criti-
cal, Philological, and Historical Correspondence." — His own
letter is no bad specimen of his keen sense ; but after what had
so often passed, his impudence was equal to the better quality.
" Sib, — To convince you of my readiness to oblige you, the
inclosed is a demonstration. You have, as he says, disobliged
a gentleman, the initial letters of whose name are P. T. I
have some other papers in the same hand, relating to your
family, which I will show, if you desire a sight of them. Your
letters to Mr. Cromwell are out of print ; and I intend to
print them very beautifully, in an octavo volume. I have
more to say than is proper to write ; and if you will give me
a meeting, I will wait on you with pleasure, and close all dif-
ferences between you and yours,
" E. Curll."
Pope, surprised, as he pretends, at this address, consulted
with his friends ; everything evil was suggested against Curll.
They conceived that his real design was " to get Pope to look
Pope and CurlL 295
over the former edition of his " Letters to Cromwell," and then
to print it, as revised by Mr. Pope ; as he sent an obscene book
to a Bishop, and then advertised it as corrected and revised
by him ;" or perhaps to extort money from Pope for suppress-
ing the MS. of P. T., and then publish it, saying P. T. had
kept another copy. Pope thought proper to answer only by
this public advertisement : —
" Whereas A. P. hath received a letter from E. C, book-
seller, pretending that a person, the initials of whose name
are P. T., hath offered the said E. C. to print a large Collec-
tion of Mr. P.'s letters, to which E. C. required an answer :
A. P. having never had, nor intending to have, any private
correspondence with the said E. C, gives it him in this man-
ner. That he knows no such person as P. T. ; that he be-
lieves he hath no such collection ; and that he thinks the
whole a forgery, and shall not trouble himself at all about it."
Curll replied, denying he had endeavoured to correspond
with Mr. Pope, and affirms that he had written to him by
direction.
It is now the plot thickens. P. T. suddenly takes umbrage,
accuses Curll of having " betrayed him to ' Squire Pope,' but
you and he both shall soon be convinced it was no forgery.
Since you would not comply with my proposal to advertise, I
have printed them at my own expense." He offers the books
to Curll for sale.
Curll on this has written a letter, which takes a full view of
the entire transaction. He seems to have grown tired of
what he calls " such jealous, groundless, and dark negotia-
tions." P. T. now found it necessary to produce something
more than a shadow — an agent appears, whom Curll consi-
dered to be a clergyman, who assumed the name of E-. Smith.
The first proposal was, that P. T.'s letters should be returned,
that he might feel secure from all possibility of detection ; so
that P. T. terminates his part in this literary freemasonry as
a nonentity.
Here Johnson's account begins. — " Curll said, that one
evening a man in a clergyman's gown, but with a lawyer's
band, brought and offered to sale a number of printed volumes,
which he found to be Pope's Epistolary Correspondence ; that
he asked no name, and was told none, but gave the price de-
manded, and thought himself authorised to use his purchase
to his own advantage." Smith, the clergyman, left him some
copies, and promised more.
296 Quarrels of Authors,
Curll now, in all the elation of possession, rolled his thunder
in an advertisement still higher than ever. — " Mr. Pope's
Literary Correspondence regularly digested, from 1704 to
1734:" to lords, earls, baronets, doctors, ladies, &c., with
their respective answers, and whose names glittered in the
advertisement. The original MSS. were Wso announced to be
seen at his house.
But at this moment Curll had not received many books,
and no MSS. The advertisement produced the effect designed ;
it roused public notice, and it alarmed several in the House of
Lords. Pope doubtless instigated his friends there. The
Earl of Jersey moved, that to publish letters of Lords was a
breach of privilege ; and Curll was brought before the House.
This was an unexpected incident ; and P. T. once more
throws his dark shadow across the path of Curll to hearten
him, had he wanted courage to face all the lords. P. T. writes
to instruct him in his answers to their examination ; but to
take the utmost care to conceal P. T. ; he assures him that
the lords could not touch a hair of his head if he behaved
firmly ; that he should only answer their interrogatories by
declaring he received the letters from different persons ; that
some were given, and some were bought. P. T. reminds one,
on this occasion, of Junius' s correspondence on a like threat
with his publisher.
" Curll appeared at the bar," says Johnson, "and knowing
himself in no great danger, spoke of Pope with very little
reverence. ' He has,' said Curll, ' a knack at versifying ; but
in prose I think myself a match for him.' When the Orders
of the House were examined, none of them appeared to have
been infringed : Curll went away triumphant, and Pope was
left to seek some other remedy." The fact, not mentioned by
Johnson, is, that though Curll's flourishing advertisement had
announced letters written hy lords, when the volumes were
examined not one written by a lord appeared.
The letter Curll wrote on the occasion to one of these dark
familiars, the pretended clergyman, marks his spirit and saga-
city. It contains a remarkable passage. Some readers will
be curious to have the productions of so celebrated a personage,
who appears to have exercised considerable talents.
16th May, 1735.
" Deab Sir, — I am just again going to the Lords to finish
Pope. I desire you to send me the sheets to perfect the first
Pope and Curll. 297
fifty books, and likewise the remaining three hundred hooJcs ;
and pray be at the Standard Tavern this evening, and I will
pay you twenty pounds more. My defence is right ; I only
told the lords I did not know from whence the books came,
and that my wife received them. This was strict truth, and
prevented all further inquiry. The lords declared they had
heen made Pope^s tools. I put myself on this single point,
and insisted, as there was not any Peer's letter in the book, I
had not been guilty of any breach of privilege. I depend
that the hooks and the imperfections will be sent ; and believe
of P. T. what I hope he believes of me.
*• For the Rev. Mr. Smith."
The reader observes that Curll talks of a great number of
looks not received, and of the few which he has received, as
imperfect. The fact is, the whole bubble is on the point of
breaking. He, masked in the initial letters, and he, who wore
the masquerade dress of a clergyman's gown with a lawyer's
band, suddenly picked a quarrel with the duped bibliopolist :
they now accuse him of a design he had of betraying them to
the Lords !
The tantalized and provoked Curll then addressed the fol-
lowing letter to "The Rev. Mr. Smith," which, both as a
specimen of this celebrated personage's "prose," in which he
thought himself " a match for Pope," and exhibiting some
traits of his character, will entertain the curious reader.
Friday, 16 May, 1735.
" SiE, — 1st, I am falsely accused. 2. I value not any man's
change of temper ; I will never change my veracity for
falsehood, in owning a fact of which I am innocent. 3. I did
not own the books came from across the water, nor ever named
you ; all I said was, that the books came hy water. 4. When
the books were seized, I sent my son to convey a letter to
you ; and as you told me everybody knew you in Southwark,
I bid him make a strict inquiry, as I am sure you would have
done in such an exigency. 5. Sir, I have acted justly in this
aiSair, and that is what I shall always think wisely. 6. I will
be kept no longer in the dark ; P. T. is Will 6' the Wisp ;
all the books I have had are imperfect ; the first fifty had no
titles nor prefaces ; the last five bundles seized by the Lords
contained but thirty-eight in each bundle, which amounts to
one hundred and ninety, and fifty, is in all but two hundred
298 Quarrels of Authors.
and forty books. 7. As to the loss of a future copy, I de-
spise it, nor will I be concerned with any more such dark sus-
picious dealers. But now, sir, I'll tell you what I will do :
when I have the hooks perfected which I have already received,
and the rest of the impression, I will pay you for them. But
what do you call this usage ? First take a note for a month,
and then want it to be changed for one of Sir Richard Hoare's.
My note is as good, for any sum I give it, as the Bank, and
shall be as punctually paid. I always say, gold is letter than
paper. But if this dark converse goes on, I will instantly
reprint the whole book ; and, as a supplement to it, all the
letters P. T. ever sent me, of which I have exact copies, toge-
ther with all your originals, and give them in upon oath to
my Lord Chancellor. You talk of trust — P. T. has not
reposed any in me, for he has my money and notes for imper-
fect books. Let me see, sir, either P. T. or yourself, or you'll
find the Scots proverb verified, Nemo me impune lacessit.
" Your abused humble servant,
" E. CrBLL.
" P. S. Lord I attend this day. Lord Delawar
I SUP WITH TO-NIGHT. Where Pope has one lord, I have
twenty."
After this, Curll announced " Mr. Pope's Literary Corre-
spondence, with the initial correspondence of 'P. T., R. S. &c."
But the shadowy correspondents now publicly declared that
they could give no title whatever to Mr. Pope's letters, with
which they had furnished Cuell, and never pretended any ;
that therefore any bookseller had the same right of printing
them : and, in respect to money matters between them, he
had given them notes not negotiable, and had never paid thera
fully for the copies, perfect and imperfect, which he had sold.
Thus terminated this dark transaction between Curll and
his initial correspondents. He still persisted in printing
several editions of the letters of Pope, which furnished the
poet with a modest pre.text to publish an authentic edition —
the very point to which the whole of this dark and intricate
plot seems to have been really directed.*
Were Pope not concerned in this mysterious transaction,
how happened it that the letters which P. T. actually printed
were genuine? To account for this. Pope promulgated a
' * Pope's victory over Curll is represented by Ilogartli in a print ostenta-
tiously hung in the garret of his "Distressed Poet." — Ed.
Pope and Curll. 299
new fact. Since the first publication of his letters to his
friend Cromwell, wrenched from the distressed female who
possessed them, our poet had been advised to collect his
letters ; and these he had preserved by inserting them in two
books ; either the originals or the copies. For this purpose
an amanuensis or two were employed by Pope when these
books were in the country, and by the Earl of Oxford when
they were in town. Pope pretended that Curll's letters had
been extracted from these two books, but sometimes imper-
fectly transcribed, and sometimes interpolated. Pope, indeed,
offered a reward of twenty pounds to " P. T." and " E. Smith,
who passed for a clergyman," if they would come forward
and discover the whole of this affair ; or " if they had acted,
as it was reported, by the direction of any other person."
They never appeared. Lintot, the son of the great rival of
Curll, told Dr. Johnson, that his father had been offered the
same parcel of printed books, and that Pope knew better than
anybody else how Curll obtained the copies.
Dr. Johnson, although he appears not to have been aware
of the subtle intricacy of this extraordinary plot, has justly
drawn this inference : " To make the copies perfect was the
only purpose of Pope, because the numbers offered for sale by
the private messengers, showed that hope of gain could not
have been the motive of the impression. It seems that Pope,
being desirous of printing his letters, and not knowing how
to do, without imputation of vanity, what has in this country
been done very rarely, contrived an appearance of compulsion ;
when he could complain that his letters were surreptitiously
printed, he might decently and defensively publish them
himself."
I have observed, how the first letter of P. T. pretending to
be written by one who owed no kindness to Pope, bears the
evident impression of his own hand ; for it contains matters
not exactly true, but exactly what Pope wished should appear
in his own life. That he had prepared his letters for publica-
tion, appears by the story of the two MS. books — that the
printed ones came by water, would look as if they had been
sent from his house at Twickenham ; and, were it not absurd
to pretend to decipher initials, P. T. might be imagined to
indicate the name of the owner, as well as his place of abode.
Worsdale, an indifferent painter, was a man of some
humour in personating a character, for he performed Old
Lady Scandal in one of his own farces. He was also a
300 Quarrels of Authors.
literary adventurer, for, according to Mrs. Pilkington's
Memoirs, wishing to be a poet as well as a mimic, he got her
and her husband to write all the verses which passed with
his name ; such a man was well adapted to be this clergyman
with the lawyer's band, and Worsdale has asserted that he
was really employed hy his friend Pope on this occasion.
Such is the intricate narrative of this involved transaction.
Pope completely succeeded, by the most subtile manoeuvres
''maginable ; the incident which perhaps was not originally
expected, of having his letters brought before the examina-
tion at the House of Lords, most amply gratified his pride,
and awakened public curiosity. " He made the House of
Lords," says Curll, " his tools." Greater ingenuity, per-
plexity, and secrecy have scarcely been thrown into the con-
duct of the writer, or writers, of the Letters of Junius.
POPE AND GIBBER;
CONTAINING
A VINDICATION OF THE COMIC WRITER.
Pope attacked Gibber from personal motives — by dethroning Theobald, in
the Dunciad, to substitute Gibber, he made the satire not apply —
Gibber's facetious and serious remonstrance — Gibber's inimitable good-
humour — an apology for what has been called his "eflfrontery" — per-
haps a modest man, and undoubtedly a man of genius — his humorous
defence of his deficiency in Tragedy, both in acting and writing — Pope
more hurt at being exposed as a ridiculous lover than as a bad man — an
account of "The Egotist, or Golley upon Gibber," a kind of supple-
ment to the "Apology for his Life," in which he has drawn his own
character with great freedom and spirit.
Pope's quarrel with Gibber may serve to check the
haughtiness of genius ; it is a remarkable instance how good-
humour can gently draw a boundary round the arbitrary
power, whenever the wantonness of satire would conceal
calumny. But this quarrel will become even more interest-
ing, should it throw a new light on the character of one
whose originality of genius seems little suspected. Gibber
showed a happy address in a very critical situation, and
obtained an honourable triumph over the malice of a great
genius, whom, while he complained of he admired, and almost
loved the cynic.
Pope, after several " flirts," as Gibber calls them, from
slight personal motives, which Gibber has fully opened,* at
* Johnson says, that though *' Pope attacked Gibber with acrimony, the
provocation is not easily discoverable." But the statements of Gibber,
which have never been contradicted, show sufficient motives to excite the
poetic irascibility. It was Gibber's * ' fling" at the unowned and con-
demned comedy of the triumvirate of wits. Pope, Gay, and Arbuthnot,
Three Hours after Marriage, when he performed Bayes in the Ee-
kearsal, that incurred the immortal odium. There was no malice on
Gibber's side ; for it was then the custom to restore the zest of that obso-
lete dramatic satire, by introducing allusions to any recent theatrical event.
The plot of this ridiculous comedy hinging on the deep contrivance of two
302 Quarrels of Authors,
length from " peevish weakness," as Lord Orford has happily
expressed it, closed his insults by dethroning Theobald, and
substituting Gibber ; but as he would not lose what he had
already written, this cbange disturbed the whole decorum of
the satiric fiction. Things of opposite natures, joined into
one, became the poetical chimera of Horace. The hero of
the Dunciad is neither Theobald nor Gibber ; Pope forced
a dunce to appear as Gibber ; but this was not making Gibber
a dunce. This error in Pope emboldened Gibber in the con-
test, for he still insisted that the satire did not apply to
him ;* and humorously compared the libel " to a purge with
lovers getting access to the wife of a virtuoso, " one curiously swathed up
like an Egyptian mummy, and the other slily covered in the pasteboard
skin of a crocodile," was an incident so extremely natural, that it seemed
congenial with the high imagination and the deep plot of a Bayes ! Poor
Gibber, in the gaiety of his m;5ro?n.jp<M, made the "fling;" and, unluckily, it
was applauded by the audience ! The irascibility of Pope too strongly
authenticated one of the three authors. "In the swelling of his heart,
after the play was over, he came behind the scenes with his lips pale and
his voice trembling, to call me to account for the insult ; and accordingly
fell upon me with all the foul language that a wit out of his senses would
be capable of, choked with the foam of his passion." Gibber replied with
dignity, insisted on the privilege of the character, and that he would re-
peat the same jest as long as the public approved of it. Pope would have
certainly approved of Gibber's manly conduct, had he not been the author
himself. To this circumstance may be added the reception which the town
and the court bestowed on Gibber's " Nonjuror," a satire on the politics of
the Jacobite faction ; Pope appears, under the assumed name of JBarnevelt,
to have published " an odd piece of wit, proving that the Nonjuror, in its
design, its characters, and almost every scene of it, was a closely- couched
Jacobite libel against the Government." Gibber says that "this was so
shrewdly maintained, that I almost liked the jest myself." Pope seems to
have been fond of this new species of irony ; for, in the Pastorals of
Phillips, he showed the same sort of ingenuity, and he repeated the same
charge of political mystery against his own finest poem ; for he proved by
many " merry inuendoes," that "The Rape of the Lock" was as auda-
cious a libel as the pretended Barnevelt had made out the Nonjuror to be.
See note, p. 280.
* Gibber did not obtrude himself in this contest. Had he been merely a
poor vain creature, he had not preserved so long a silence. His good-
temper was without anger, but he remonstrates with no little dignity,
when he chooses to be solemn ; though to be playful was more natural to
him. "If I have lain so long stoically silent, or unmindful of your sati-
rical favours, it was not so much for want of a proper reply, as that I
thought there never needed a public one ; for all people of sense would
know what truth or falsehood there was in what you said of me, without
my wisely pointing it out to them. Nor did I choose to follow your ex-
ample, of being so much a self-tormentor, as to be concerned at whatever
opinion of me any published invective might infuse into people unknown to
Pope and Cibber. 303
a wrong label," and Pope " to an apothecary who did not
mind his business."*
Cibber triumphed in the arduous conflict — though some-
times he felt that, like the Patriarch of old, he was wrestling,
not with an equal, but one of celestial race, " and the hollow
of his thigh was out of joint." Still, however, he triumphed,
by that singular felicity of character, that inimitable gaieU
de coeur, that honest simplicity of truth, from which flowed
so warm an admiration of the genius of his adversary ; and
that exquisite tact in the characters of men, which carried
down this child of airy humour to the verge of his ninetieth
year, with all the enjoj^ments of strong animal spirits, and all
that innocent egotism which became frequently a source of
his own raillery .f He has applied to himself the epithet
"impenetrable," which was probably in the mind of Johnson
when he noticed his " impenetrable impudence." A critic has
charged him with " efl'rontery." J Critics are apt to admit
me. Even the malicious, though they may like the libel, don't always
believe it." His reason for reply is, that his silence should not be further
reproached **asa plain confession of my being a bankrupt in wit, if I
don't immediately answer those bills of discredit you have drawn upon
me." There is no doubt that Cibber pei*petually found instigators to en-
courage these attacks ; and one forcible argument he says was, that **a
disgrace, from such a pen, would stick upon me to posterity." He seems
to be aware that his acquaintance cheer him to the lists ' ' for their par-
ticular amusement."
* ' ' His edition of Shakspeare proved no better than a foil to set off the
superiority of Theobald's ; and Cibber bore away the palm from him in the
drama. We have an account of two attempts of Pope's, one in each of
the two principal branches of this species of poetry, and both unsuccess-
ful. The fate of the comedy has been already mentioned (in page 300),
and the tragedy was saved from the like fate by one not less ignominious,
being condemned and burnt by his own hands. It was called Cleone, and
formed upon the same story as a late one wrote and published by Mr.
Dodsley with the same title in 1769. See Dodsley's Preface." — Biographia
Britannica, 1760.
+ Armstrong, who was a keen observer of man, has expressed his un-
common delight in the company of Cibber. "Beside his abilities as a
writer (as a writer of comedies, Armstrong means), and the singular
variety of his powers as an actor, he was to the last one of the most
agreeable, cheerful, and best-humoured men you would ever wish to con-
verse with." — Warton's Pope, vol. iv. 160.
Cibber was one of those rare beings whose dispositions Hume describes
"as preferable to an inheritance of 10,000Z. a year."
X Dr. Aikin, in his Biographical Dictionary, has thus written on
Cibber : "It cannot be doubted, that, at the time, the contest was more
painful to Pope than to Cibber. But Pope's satire is immortal, whereas
Gibber's sarcasms are no longer read. Cibber may therefore be represeiUed
304 Quarrels of Authors.
too much of traditional opinion into their own ; it is necessary
sometimes to correct the knowledge we receive. For my
part, I can almost believe that Gibber was a modest man I *
to future times with less credit for abilities than he really deserves ; for he
■was certainly no dunce, though not, in the higher sense of the word, a
man of genius. His effrontery and vanity could not be easily overcharged,
even by a foe. Indeed, they are striking features in the portrait drawn by
himself." Dr. Aikin's political morality often vented its indignation at the
successful injustice of great power ! Why should not the same spirit con-
duct him in the Literary Republic ? With the just sentiments he has given
on Gibber, it was the duty of an intrepid critic to raise a moral feeling
against the despotism of genius, and to have protested against the arbitrary
power of Pope. It is participating in the injustice to pass it by, without
even a regret at its effect.
As for Gibber himself, he declares he was not impudent, and I am dis-
posed to take his own word, for he modestly asserts this, in a remark on
Pope's expression,
" ' Gibberian forehead,'
*• by which I find you modestly mean Cibherian impudence, as a sample of
the strongest. — Sir, your humble servant — but pray, sir, in your * Epistle
to Dr. Arbuthnot' (where, by the way, in your ample description of a great
Poet, you slily hook in a whole hat-full of virtues to your own character)
have not you this particular line ?
* And thought a Lie,in. verse or prose, the same — ' "
Gibber laments it is not so, for " any accusation in smo<^th verse will al-
ways sound well, though it is not tied down to have a tittle of truth in it,
when the strongest defence in poor humble prose, not having that harmo-
nious advantage, takes nobody by the ear — very hard upon an innocent
man ! For suppose in prose, now, I were as confidently to insist that you
were an honest, good-natured, inoffensive creature, would my barely say-
ing so be any proof of it ? No sure. Why then, might it not be supposed
an equal truth, that both our assertions were equally false ? Yours, when
you call me impudent ; mine, when I call you modest, &c. While my
superiors suffer me occasionally to sit down with them, I hope it will be
thought that rather the Papul than the Cibherian forehead ought to be out
of countenance." I give this as a specimen of Gibber's serious reasonings —
they are poor ; and they had been so from a greater genius ; for ridicule and
satire, being only a mere abuse of eloquence, can never be effectually op-
posed by truisms. Satire must be repelled by satire ; and Gibber's sar-
casms obtained what Gibber's reasonings failed in.
* Vain as Gibber has been called, and vain as he affects to be, he has
spoken of his own merits as a comic writer, — and he was a very great
one, — with a manly moderation, very surprising indeed in a vain man.
Pope has sung in his Dunciad, most harmoniously inhuman,
" How, with less reading than makes felons scape,
Less human genius than God gives an ape,
Small thanks to France, and none to Rome or Greece,
A patch'd, varap'd, future, old, revived new piece ;
'Twixt Plautus, Fletcher, Congreve, and Gorneille,
Gan make a Gibber, Johnson, and Ozell."
Pope and Gibber. 305
as he was most certainly a man of genius. Gibber had lived
a dissipated life, and his philosophical indifference, with his
careless gaiety, was the breastplate which even the wit of
Pope failed to pierce. During twenty years' persecution for
his unlucky Odes, he never lost his temper ; he would read
to his friends the best things pointed against them, with all
the spirit the authors could wish ; and would himself write
Blasting as was this criticism, it could not raise the anger of the gay
and careless Gibber. Yet what could have put it to a sharper test ?
Johnson and Ozell are names which have long disappeared from the dra-
matic annals, and could only have been coupled with Gibber to give an
idea of what the satirist meant by "the human genius of an ape." But
listen to the mild, yet the firm tone of Gibber — he talks like injured inno-
cence, and he triumphs over Pope, in all the dignity of truth. — I appeal to
Gibber's posterity !
*'And pray, sir, why my name under this scurvy picture? I flatter
myself, that if you had not put it there, nobody else would have thought
it like me ; nor can I easily believe that you yourself do : but perhaps you
imagined it would be a laughing ornament to your verse, and had a mind
to divert other people's spleen with it as well as your own. Now let me
hold up my head a little, and then we shall see how the features hit me."
He proceeds to relate, how "many of those plays have lived the longer for
my meddling with them. " He mentions several, jvhich "had been dead
to the stage out of all memory, which have since been in a constant course
of acting above these thirty or forty years." And then he adds : "Do
those altered plays at all take from the merit of those more successful
pieces, which were entirely my own ? — When a man is abused, he has a
right to speak even laudable truths of himself, to confront his slanderer.
Let me therefore add, that my first Gomedy of The Fool in Fashion was
as much (though not so valuable) an original, as any work Mr. Pope him-
self has produced. It is now forty-seven years since its first appearance
on the stage, where it has kept its station, to this very day, without ever
lying one winter dormant. Nine years after this, I brought on The Care-
less Husband, with still greater success ; and was that too
'A patch'd, vamp'd, future, old, revived new piece?'
Let the many living spectators of these plays, then, judge between us,
whether the above verses came from the honesty of a satirist, who would
be thought, like you, the upright censor of mankind. Sir, this libel was
below you ! Satire, without truth, recoils upon its author, and must, at
other times, render him suspected of prejudice, even where he may be
just ; as frauds, in religion, make more atheists than converts ; and the
bad heart, Mr. Pope, that points an injury with verse, makes it the more
unpardonable, as it is not the result of sudden passion, but of an indulged
and slowly-meditating ill-nature. What a merry mixed mortal has nature
made you, that can debase that strength and excellence of genius to the
lowest human weakness, that of offering unprovoked injuries, at the
hazard of your being ridiculous too, when the venom you spit falls short of
your aim !" I have quoted largely, to show that Gibber was capable of
exerting a dignified remonstrance, as well as pointing the lightest, yet
keenest, shafts of sarcastic wit.
Z
306 Quarrels of Authors.
epigrams for the pleasure of hearing them repeated while
sitting in coffee-houses ; and whenever they were applauded
as "Palpahle hits!" — "Keen!" — "Things with a spirit in
them !" — he enjoyed these attacks on himself by himself.* If
this be vanity, it is at least " Cibberian.''
It was, indeed, the singularity of his personal character
which so long injured his genius, and laid him open to the
perpetual attacks of his contemporaries, t who were mean
enough to ridicule undisguised foibles, but dared not be just
to the redeeming virtues of his genius. Yet his genius far
exceeded his literary frailties. He knew he was no poet, yet
he would string wretched rhymes, even when not salaried for
them; and once wrote an Essay on Cicero's character, for
which his dotage was scarcely an apology ; — so much he pre-
ferred amusement to prudence.;}: Another foible was to act
tragedies with a squeaking voice §, and to write them with a
• Ayre's " Memoirs of Pope," vol. ii. p. 82.
f Even the " Grub-street Journal" had its jest on his appointment to
the laureateship. In No. 62 was the following epigram : —
" Well, said Apollo, still 'tis mine
To give the real laurel :
For that my Pope, my son divine,
Of rivals ends the quarrel.
But guessing who would have the luck
To be the birth -day fibber,
I thought of Dennis, Tibbald, Duck,
But never dreamt of Gibber !" — Ed.
J It may be reasonably doubted, however, if vanity had not something
to do with this — the vanity of appearing as a philosophical writer, and
astonishing the friends who had considered him only as a good comedian.
The volume was magnificently oriuted in quarto on fine paper, "for the
author," in 1747. It is entitled, " The Character and Conduct of Cicero
Considered, from the History of his Life by the Rev. Dr. Middleton ; with
occasional Essays and Observations upon the most Memorable Facts and
Persons during that Period." The entire work is a series of somewhat too-
familiar notes on the various passages of " Cicero's Life and Times," as nar-
rated by Middleton. He terms the unsettled state after the death of Sylla
•* an uncomfortable time for those sober citizens who had a mind and a
right to be quiet." His professional character breaks forth when he speaks
of Roscius instructing Cicero in acting ; and in the very commencement of
his grave labour he rambles back to the theatre to quote a scene from
Vanbrugh's Relapse, as a proof how little fashionable readers think while
they read. Colley's well-meaning but free-and-easy reflections on the
gravities of Roman history, in the progress of his work, are remarkable,
and have all the author's coarse common-sense, but very little depth or
refinement — Ed.
§ With what good-humour he retorts a piece of sly malice of Pope's ;
Pope and Cibber. 307
genius about the same size for the subhme ; but the malice of
his contemporaries seemed to forget that he was creating new
dramatic existences in the exquisite personifications of his
comic characters ; and was producing some of our standard
comedies, composed with such real genius, that they still sup-
port the reputation of the English stage.
In the "Apology for his Life," Cibber had shown himself
a generous and an ill-treated adversary, and at all times was
prodigal of his eulogiums, even after the death of Pope ; but,
when remonstrance and good temper failed to sheathe with
their oil the sharp sting of the wasp, as his weakest talent
was not the ludicrous, he resolved to gain the laughers over,
who, in the notes to the Dunciad, after quoting Jacob's account of Gibber's
talents, adds — "Mr. Jacob omitted to remark that he is particularly
admirable in tragedy." To which Cibber rejoins — '*Ay, sir, and your
remark has omitted, too, that (with all his commendations) I can't dance
upon the rope, or make a saddle, nor play upon the organ. My dear, dear
Mr. Pope, how could a man of your stinging capacity let so tame, so
low a reflection escape him ? Why, this hardly rises above the petty
malice of Miss Molly, * Ay, ay, you may think my sister as handsome as
you please, but if you were to see her legs !' If I have made so many
crowded theatres laugh, and in the right place, too, for above forty years
together, am I to make up the number of your dunces, because I have not
the equal talent of making them cry too ? Make it your own case. Is what
you have excelled in at all the worse for your having so dismally dabbled
in the farce of Three Hours after Marriage ? What mighty reason will
the world have to laugh at my weakness in tragedy, more than at yours in
comedy ?"
I will preserve one anecdote of that felicity of temper — ^that undisturbed
good-humour which never abandoned Cibber in his most distressful moments.
When he brought out, in 1724, his Ccesar in Egypt^ at a great expense,
and **a beggarly account of empty boxes" was the result, it raised some
altercations between the poet and his brother managers, the bard still
struggling for another and another night. At length he closed the quaiTel
with a pun, which confessed the misfortune, with his own good-humour.
In a periodical publication of the times I find the circumstance recorded
in this neat epigram : —
On the Sixth Night o/Cibber's ** Ccesar in Egypt**
When the pack'd audience from their posts retired,
And Julius in a general hiss expired ;
Sage Booth to Cibber cried, *' Compute our gains !
These dogs of Egypt, and their dowdy queans.
But ill requite these habits and these scenes,
To rob Corneille for such a motley piece :
His geese were swans ; but zounds ! thy swans are geese !'*
Rubbing his firm invulnerable brow,
The bard replies! — " The critics must allow
'Twas ne'er in Ccesar's destiny to run !"
Wilks bow'd, and bless'd the gay pacific pun.
x2
808 Quarrels of Authors,
and threw Pope into a very ridiculous attitude.* It was
extorted from Gibber by this insulting line of Pope's : —
And has not Colley, too, his Lord and w — e ?
It seems that Pope had once the same ! But a ridiculous
story, suited to the taste of the loungers, nettled Pope more
than the keener remonstrances and the honest truths which
Gibber has urged. Those who write libels, invite imitation.
Besides the two letters addressed by 'Gibber to Pope, this
quarrel produced a moral trifle, or rather a philosophical
curiosity, respecting Gibber's own character, which is stamped
with the full impression of all its originality.
The title, so expressive of its design, and the whim and
good-humour of the work, which may be considered as a
curious supplement to the " Apology for his Life," could
scarcely have been imagined, and most certainly could not
have been executed, but by the genius who dared it. I give
the title in the note.f It is a curious exemplification of
what Shaftesbury has so fancifully described as " self-inspec-
tion." This little work is a conversation between "Mr.
Frankly and his old acquaintance, Golley Gibber." Gibber
had the spirit of making this Mr. Frankly speak the bitterest
things against himself; and he must have been an attentive
reader of all the keenest reproaches his enemies ever had
* A wicked wag of a lord had enticed Pope into a tavern, and laid a
love-plot against his health. Gibber describes his resolute interference by
snatching *' our little Homer by the heels. This was done for the honour
of our nation. Homer would have been too serious a sacrifice to our
evening's amusement." He has metamorphosed our Apollo into a '* Tom-
tit ;" but the Ovidian warmth, however ludicrous, will not now admit of
a narrative. This story, by our comic writer, was accompanied by a print,
that was seen by more persons, probably, than read the Dunciad. In his
second letter, Gibber, alluding to the vexation of Pope on this ridiculous
story, observe.'; — "To have been exposed as a had man, ought to have
given thee thrice the concern of being shown a ridiculous lover." And
now that he had discovered that he could touch the nerves of Pope, he
throws out one of the most ludicrous analogies to the figure of our bard :-^ -
"When crawling in thy dangerous deed of darkness, I gently, with a finger
and a thumb, picked off thy small round body by thy long legs, like a
spider making love in a cobweb."
+ "The Egotist, or Golley upon Gibber ; being his own picture re-
touched to so plain a likeness that no one now would have the face to
own it BUT HIMSELF.
* But one stroke more, and that shall be my last.'
London, 1743. Dryden."
Pope and Cibber. 309
thrown out. This caustic censor is not a man of straw, set
up to be easily knocked down. He has as much vivacity and
wit as Cibber himself, and not seldom has the better of the
argument. But the gravity and the levity blended in this
little piece form admirable contrasts : and Cibber, in this
varied effusion, acquires all our esteem for that open sim-
plicity, that unalterable good-humour which flowed from
nature, and that fine spirit that touches everything with life ;
yet, as he himself confesses, the main accusation of Mr.
Frankly, that " his philosophical air will come out at last mere
vanity in masquerade," may be true.
I will attempt to collect some specimens of this extraordi-
nary production, because they harmonise with the design of
the present work, and afford principles, in regard to preserv-
ing an equability of temper, which may guide us in Literary
Quarrels.
Frankly observes, on Gibber's declaration that he is not
uneasy at Pope's satire, that " no blockhead is so dull as not
to be sore when he is called so; and (you'll excuse me) if that
were to be your own case, why should we believe you would
not be as uneasy at it as another blockhead ?
Author. This is pushing me pretty home indeed ; but I
wont give out. For as it is not at all inconceivable, that a
blockhead of my size may have a particular knack of doing
some useful thing that might puzzle a wiser man to be master
of, will not that blockhead still have something in him to be
conceited of ? If so, allow me but the vanity of supposing I
may have had some such possible knack, and you will not
wonder (though in many other points I may still be a block-
head) that I may, notwithstanding, be contented with my
condition.
Frankly. Is it not commendable, in a man of parts, to be
warmly concerned for his reputation ?
Author. In what regards his honesty or honour, I will
make some allowance; but for the reputation of his parts, not
one tittle.
Frankly. How ! not to be concerned for what half the
learned world are in a continual war about.
Autlior. So are another half about religion ; but neither
Turk or Pope, swords or anathemas, can alter truth ! There
it stands ! always visible to reason, self-defended and im-
movable ! Whatever it ivas, or is, it ever will he ! As no
attack can alter, so no defence can add to its proportion.
310 Quarrels of Authors,
Franhly. At this rate,' you pronounce all controversies in
wit to be either needless or impertinent.
Author. When one in a hundred happens not to be so, or
to make amends for being either by its pleasantry, we ought
in justice to allow it a great rarity. A reply to a just satire
or criticism will seldom be thought better of.
Frankly. May not a reply be a good one ?
Author. Yes, but never absolutely necessary ; for as your
work (or reputation) must have been good or bad, before it
was censured, your reply to that censure could not alter it :
it would still be but what it was. If it was good, the attack
could not hurt it : if bad, the reply could not mend it.*
Frankly. But slander is not always so impotent as you
seem to suppose it ; men of the best sense may be misled by
it, or, by their not inquiring after truth, may never come at
it ; and the vulgar, as they are less apt to be good than ill-
natured, often mistake malice for wit, and have an uncha-
ritable joy in commending it. Now, when this is the case,
is not a tame silence, upon being satirically libelled, as liable
to be thought guilt or stupidity, as to be the result of inno-
cence or temper ? — Self-defence is a very natural and just
excuse for a reply. ^
Author. Be it so ! But still that does not always make
it necessary ; for though slander, by their not weighing it,'
may pass upon some few people of sense for truth, and might
draw great numbers of the vulgar into its party, the mischief
* How many good authors might pursue their studies in quiet, would
they never reply to their critics but on matters of fact, in which their
honour may be involved. I have seen very tremendous criticisms on some
works of real genius, like serpents on marble columns, wind and dart
about, and spit their froth, but they die away on the pillars that enabled
them to erect their malignant forms to the public eye. They fall in due
time ; and weak must be the substance of that pillar which does not stand,
ind look as beautiful, when the serpents have crawled over it, as before.
Dr. Brown, in his *' Letter to Bishop Lowth," has laid down an axiom in
literary criticism : — "^ mere literary attach, however well or ill-founded,
would not easily have drawn me into a public expostulation ; for every
man's true literary character is best seen in his own writings. Critics
may rail, disguise, insinuate, or pervert ; yet still the object of their cen-
sures lies equally open to all the world. Thus the world becomes a com-
petent judge of the merits of the work animadverted on. Hence, the
mere author hath a fair chance for a fair decision, at least among the
judicious ; and it is of no mighty consequence what opinions the inju-
dicious form concerning mental abilities. For this reason, I have never
replied to any of those numerous critics who have on different occasions
honoured me with their regard."
Pope and Cibber. 31.
can never be of long duration. A satirical slander, that has
no truth to support it, is only a great fish upon dry land: it
may flounce and fling, and make a fretful pother, hut it wont
hite you ; you need not knock it on the head ; it will soon lie
still, and die quietly of itself.
Frankly. The single-sheet critics will find you employment.
Author. Indeed they wont. I'm not so mad as to think
myself a match for the invulnerable.
Frankly. Have a care ; there's Foulwit ; though he can't
feel, he can bite.
Author. Ay, so will bugs and fleas ; but that's only for
sustenance : everything must feed, you know ; and your creep-
ing critics are a sort of vermin, that if they could come to a
king, would not spare him ; yet, whenever they can persuade
others to laugh at their jest upon me, I will honestly make
one of the number; but I must ask their pardon, if that
should be all the reply I can afford them."
This " boy of seventy odd," for such he was when he wrote
" The Egotist," unfolds his character by many lively personal
touches. Pie declares he could not have " given the world so
finished a coxcomb as Lord Foppington, if he had not found
a good deal of the same stuff in himself to make him with."
He addresses " A Postscript, To those few unfortunate
Readers and Writers who may not have more sense than the
Author:" and he closes, in all the fulness of his spirit, with
a piece of consolation for those who are so cruelly attacked by
superior genius.
" Let us then, gentlemen, who have the misfortune to lie
thus at the mercy of those whose natural parts happen to be
stronger than our own — let us, I say, make the most of our
sterility ! Let us double and treble the ranks of our thick-
ness, that we may form an impregnable phalanx, and stand
ev3ry way in front to the enemy ! or, would you still be liable
to less hazard, lay but yourselves down, as I do, flat and quiet
upon your faces, when Pride, Malice, Envy, Wit, or Preju-
dice let fly their formidable shot at you, what odds is it they
don't all whistle over your head ? Thus, too, though we may
want the artillery of missive wit to make reprisals, we may at
least in security bid them kiss the tails we have turned to
them. Who knows but, by this our supine, or rather prone
serenity, their disappointed valour may become their own
vexation ? Or let us yet, at worst, but solidly stand our
ground, like so many defensive stone-posts, and we may defy the
SX2 Quarrels of Authors.
proudest Jehu of them all to drive over us. Thus, gentlemen,
you see that Insensibility is not without its comfoi'ts ; and as
I give you no worse advice than I have taken myself, and
found my account in, I hope you will have the hardness to
follow it, for your own good and the glory of
" Your impenetrable humble servant,
" C. C."
After all, one may perceive, that though the good-humour
of poor Gibber was real, still the immortal satire of Pope had
injured his higher feelings. He befcraj's his secret grief at his
close, while he seems to be sporting with his pen ; and though
he appears to confide in the falsity of the satire as his best
chance for saving him from it, still he feels that the caustic
ink of such a satirist must blister and spot wherever it falls.
The anger of Warburton, and the sternness of Johnson, who
seem alwa3^s to have considered an actor as an inferior being
among men of genius, have degraded Gibber. They never
suspected that " a blockhead of his size could do what wiser
men could not," and, as a fine comic genius, command a whole
province in human nature.
POPE AND ADDISON.
The quarrel between Pope and Addison originated in one of tlie infirmities
of genius — a subject of inquiry even after their death, by Sir William
Blackstone — Pope courts Addison — suspects Addison of jealousy —
Addison's foible to be considered a great poet — interview between the
rivals, of which the result was the portrait of Attious, for which Addison
was made to sit.
Among the Literary Quarrels of Pope one acquires dignity
and interest from the characters of both parties. It closed by
producing the severest, but the most masterly portrait of one
man of genius, composed by another, which has ever been
hung on the satiric Parnassus for the contemplation of ages.
Addison must descend to posterity with the dark spots of
Atticus staining a purity of character which had nearly
proved immaculate.
The friendship between Pope and Addison was interrupted by
one of the infirmities of genius. Tempers of watchful delicacy
gather up in silence and darkness motives so shadowy in their ^
origin, and of such minute growth, that, never breaking out /
into any open act, they escape all other eyes but those of the
parties themselves. These causes of enmity are too subtle to
bear the touch ; they cannot be inquired after, nor can they
be described ; and it may be said that the minds of such men
have rather quarrelled than they themselves : they utter no
complaints, but they avoid each other. All the world per-
ceived that two authors of the finest genius had separated
from motives on which both were silent, but which had evi-
dently operated with equal force on both. Their admirers
were very general, and at a time when literature divided with
politics the public interest, the best feeiings of the nation were
engaged in tracking the obscure commencements and the
secret growth of this literary quarrel, in which the amiable
and moral qualities of Addison, and the gratitude and honour
of Pope, were equally involved. The friends of either party
pretended that their chiefs entertained a reciprocal regard for
each other, while the illustrious characters themselves were
314 Quarrels of Authors,
living in a state of hostility. Even long after these literary
heroes were departed, the same interest was general among
the lovers of literature ; but those obscure motives which had
only influenced two minds — those imperceptible events, which
are only events as they are watched by the jealousy of genius
— eluded the most anxious investigation. Yet so lasting and
so powerful was the interest excited by this literary quarrel,
that, within a few years, the elegant mind of Sir William
Blackstone withdrew from the severity of profounder studies
to inquire into the causes of a quarrel which was still exciting
the most opposite opinions. Blackstone has judged and
summed up ; but though he evidently inclines to favour
Addison, by throwing into the balance some explanation for
the silence of Addison against the audible complaints of Pope ;
though sometimes he pleads as well as judges, and infers as
well as proves ; yet even Blackstone has not taken on himself
to deliver a decision. His happy genius has only honoured
literary history by the niasterly force and luminous arrange-
ment of investigation, to which, since the time of Bayle, it
has been too great a stranger.*
At this day, removed from all personal influence and affec-
tions, and fui'nished with facts which contemporaries could
not command, we take no other concern in this literary quarrel
but as far as curiosity and truth delight us in the study of
human nature. We are now of no party — we are only his-
torians !
Pope was a young writer when introduced to Addison by
the intervention of that generously-minded friend of both,
Steele. Addison eulogised Pope's " Essay on Criticism ;'*
and this fine genius covering with his wing an unfledged
bardling, conferred a favour which, in the estimation of a poet,
claims a life of indelible gratitude.
Pope zealously courted Addison by his poetical aid on
several important occasions ; he gave all the dignity that
fine poetry could confer on the science of medals, which
Addison had written on, and wrote the finest prologue in the
language for the Whig tragedy of his friend. Dennis at-
* Sir William Blackstone's Discussion on the Quarrel between Addison
and Pope was communicated by Dr. Kippis in his ' ' Biographia Britan-
nica," vol. i. p. 56. Blackstone is there designated as "a gentleman of
considerable rank, to whom the public is obliged for works of much higher
importance."
Pope and Addison. 315
lacked, and Pope defended Cato* Addison might have dis-
approved both of the manner and the matter of the defence ;
but he did more — he insulted Pope by a letter to Dennis,
which Dennis eagerly published as Pope's severest condemna-
tion. An alienation of friendship must have already taken
place, but by no overt act on Pope's side.
Not that, however, Pope had not found his affections
weakened : the dark hints scattered in his letters show that
something was gathering in his mind. Warburton, from his
familiar intercourse with Pope, must be allowed to have
known his literary concerns more than any one ; and when
he drew up the narrative,t seems to me to have stated un-
couthly, but expressively, the progressive state of Pope's
feelings. According to that narrative. Pope "reflected,"
that after he had first pubUshed " The Eape of the Lock,"
then nothing more than a hasty ^ez^ d' esprit, when he com-
municated to Addison his very original project of the whole
sylphid machinery, Addison chilled the ardent bard with his
eoldness, advised him against any alteration, and to leave it
as " a delicious little thing, merum sal.'^ It was then, says
Warburton, " Mr. Pope began to o^en his eyes to Addison's
character." But when afterwards he discovered that Tickell's
* Dennis asserts in one of his pamphlets that Pope, fermenting with
envy at the success of Addison's Cato, went to Lintot, and persuaded
him to engage this redoubted critic to write the remarks on Cato — that
Pope's gratitude to Dennis for having complied with his request was the
well-known narrative of Dennis "being placed as a lunatic in the hands of
Dr. Norris, a curer of mad people, at his house in Eatton-garden, though
at the same time I appeared publicly every day, both in the park and in
the town." Can we suppose that Dennis tells a falsehood respecting Pope's
desiring Lintot to engage Dennis to write down Cato ? If true, did
Pope wish to see Addison degraded, and at the same time take an oppor-
tunity of ridiculing the critic, without, however, answering his arguments ?
The secret history of literature is like that of politics ?
[Dennis took a strong dislike to Addison's Cato, and his style of
criticism is thus alhided to in the humorous account of his frenzy written
by Pope : "On all sides of his room were pinned a great many sheets of a
tragedy called Cato, with notes on the margin by his own hand. The
words absurd, monstrous, execrable, were everywhere written in such large
characters, that I could read them without my spectacles." Warton says that
"Addison highly disapproved of this bitter satire on Dennis, and Pope was
not a little chagrined at this disapprobation ; for the narrative was intended
to court the favour of Addison, by defending his Cato : in which seeming
defence Addison was far from thinking our author sincere."]
t In the notes to the Prologue to the Satires.
316 Quarrels of Authors.
Homer was opposed to his, and judged, as Warburton says,
" by laying many odd circumstances together," that Addison,*
and not Tickell, was the author — the aUenation on Pope's
side was complete. No open breach indeed had yet taken
place between the rival authors, who, as jealous of dominion
as two princes, would still demonstrate, in their public edicts,
their inviolable regard ; while they were only watching the
advantageous moment when they might take arms against
each other.
Still Addison publicly bestowed great encomiums on Pope's
Iliad, although he had himself composed the rival version,
and m private preferred his own.f He did this with the same
ease he had continued its encouragement while Pope was em-
ployed on it. We are astonished to discover such deep politics
among literary Machiavels ! Addison had certainly raised up
a literary party. Sheridan, who wrote nearly with the know-
ledge of a contemporary, in his " Life of Swift," would natu-
rally use the language and the feelings of the time ; and in
describing Ambrose Phillips, he adds, he was " one of Mr.
Addison's httle senate."
But in this narrative I have dropt some material parts.
Pope believed that Addison had employed Gildon to write
against him, and had encouraged Phillips to asperse his cha-
racter. J We cannot, now, quite demonstrate these alleged facts;
but we can show that Pope believed them, and that Addison
does not appear to have refuted them.§ Such tales, whether
/ * Pope's conjecture was perfectly correct. Dr. Warton confirms it from
/a variety of indisputable authorities. — Warton's "Pope," vol. iv. p. 34.
^- t In the "Freeholder," May, 1716.
+ Pope himself thus related the matter to Spence : " Phillips seemed to
have been encouraged to abuse me in coffee-houses "and conversations ; and
Gildon wrote a thing about Wycherly, in which he had abused both me
.and my relations very grossly. Lord Warwick himself told me one day
that it was in vain for me to endeavour to be well with Mr. Addison ; that
his jealous temper would never admit of a settled friendship between us,
and to convince me of what he had said, assured me that Addison hiid
encouraged Grildon to publish those scandals, and had given him ten guineas
after they were published." — Ed.
§ The strongest parts of Sir William Blackstone's discussion turn on
certain inaccurate dates of Ruffhead, in his statements, which show them
to be inconsistent with the times when they are alleged to have happened.
These erroneous dates had been detected in an able article in the Monthly
Eeview on that work, April, 1769. Eufthead is a tasteless, confused, and
unskilful writer — Sir William has laid great stress on the incredible story
of Addison paying Grildon to write against Pope, *' a man so amiable in hia
Pope and Addison. 317
entirely false or partially true, may be considered in this in-
quiry of little amount. The greater events must regulate
the lesser ones.*
Was Addison, then, jealous of Pope ? Addison, in every
respect, then, his superior ; of established literary fame when
Pope was yet young ; preceding him in age and rank ; and
fortunate in all the views of human ambition. But what if/
Addison's foible was that of being considered a great poet ? \
His political poetry had raised him to an undue elevation,!
and the growing celebrity of Pope began to offend him, not \
with the appearance of a meek rival, with whom he might \
have held divided empire, but as a master-spirit, that was •
preparing to reign alone. It is certain that Addison was the )
most feehng man alive at the fate of his poetry. At the \
representation of his Cato, such was his agitation, that had /
CatoheQw. condemned, the life of Addison might, too, have!
been shortened. When a wit had burlesqued some lines of j
this dramatic poem, his uneasiness at the innocent banter was j
moral character." It is possible that the Earl of Warwick, who conveyed
the information, might have been a malicious, lying youth ; but then Pope
had some knowledge of mankmd — he believed the story, for he wrote
instantly, with honest though heated feelings, to Addison, and sent him, at
that moment, the first sketch of the character of Atticus. Addison used
him vQry civilly ever after — but it does not appear that Addison ever con-
tradicted the tale of the officious Earl. All these facts, which Pope
repeated many years after to Spence, Sir William was not acquainted with,
for they were transcribed fi-om Spence's papers by Johnson, after Black -
stone had written. [This is fully in accordance with his previous conduct,
as he described it to Spence ; on the first notification of the Earl of War-
wick's news, " the next day when I was heated with what I had heard, I
wrote a letter to Mr. Addison, to let him know that I was not unacquainted
with this behaviour of his ; that if I was to speak severely of him, in
return for it, it should not be in such a dirty way ; and that I should rather
tell himself freely of his faults, and allow his good qualities ; and that it
should be something in the following manner : I then adjoined the fixst
sketch of what has since been called my Satire on Addison. Mr. Addison
used me very civilly ever after, and never did me any injustice that I kndw
of from that time to his death, which was about three years after."]
* That Addison did occasionally divert Pope's friends fi*om him, appears
from the advice which Lady Mary Wortley Montague says he gave to her —
*' Leave him as soon as you can, he will certainly play you some devilish
trick else : he* has an appetite to satire." Malone thinks this may have
been said under the irritation produced by the verses on Addison, which
Pope sent to him, as described above. Pope's love of satii-e, and un-
flinching use of it, was as conspicuous as Addison's nervous dislike to ^
it.— Ed. t^
/
318 Quarrels of Authors.
equally oppressive ; nor could he rest, till, by the interpo-
sition of a friend, he prevailed upon the author to burn
them.*
To the facts already detailed, and to this disposition in
Addison's temper, and to the quick and active suspicions of
Pope, irritable, and ambitious of all the sovereignty of poetry,
we may easily conceive many others of those obscure motives,
and invisible events, which none but Pope, alienated every
day more and more from his affections for Addison, too
acutely perceived, too profoundly felt, and too unmercifully
avenged. These are alluded to when the satirist sings —
Damn with faint praise ; assent with civil leer ;
And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer ;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike ;
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike, &c.
Accusations crowded faster than the pen could write them
down. Pope never composed with more warmth. No one
can imagine that Atticus was an ideal personage, touched as
it is with all the features of an extraordinary individual.
In a word, it was recognised instantly by the individual him-
self ; and it was suppressed by Pope for near twenty years,
before he suffered it to escape to the public.
It was some time during their avowed rupture, for the
exact period has not been given, tiiat their friends promoted
a meeting between these two great men. After a mutual
lustration, it was imagined the}"^ might have expiated their
error, and have been restored to their original purity. The
interview did take place between the rival wits, and was.
productive of some very characteristic ebullitions, strongly
corroborative of the facts as they have been stated here.
This extraordinary interview has been frequently alluded to.
There can be no doubt of the genuineness of the narrative
but I know not on what authority it came into the world.f
* From Lord Egmont's MS. Collections. — See the " Addenda
Kippis's Biograpliia Britannica."
"t The earliest and most particular narrative of this remarkable inter-
view I have hitherto only traced to "Memoirs of the Life and Writings of
A. Pope, Esq., by William Ayre, Esq.," 1745, vol. i. p. 100. This work
comes in a very suspicious form ; it is a huddled compilation, yet contains
some curious matters ; and pretends, in the title-page, to be occasionally
drawn from "original MSS. and the testimonies of persons of honour."
He declares, in the preface, that he and his friends " had means and some
helps which were never public." He sometimes appeals to several noble
friends of Pope as his authorities. But the mode of its publication, and
Pope and Addison, 319
The interview between Addison and Pope took place in the
presence of Steele and Gay. They met with cold civility.
Addison's reserve wore away, as was usual with him, when
wine and conversation imparted some warmth to his native
phlegm. At a moment the generous Steele deemed auspi-
cious, he requested Addison would perform his promise in
renewing his friendship with Pope. Pope expressed his
desire : he said he was willing to hear his faults, and pre-
ferred candour and severity rather than forms of complaisance;
but he spoke in a manner as conceiving Addison, and not
himself, had been the aggressor. So much like their humblest
inferiors do great men act under the influence of common
passions : Addison was overcome with anger, which cost him
an effort to suppress ; but, in the^formal speech he made, he
reproached Pope with indulging a vanity that far exceeded
his merit ; that he had not yet attained to the excellence he
imagined ; and observed, that his verses had a different air
when Steele and himself corrected them ; and, on this occa-
sion, reminded Pope of a particular line which Steele had
improved in the "Messiah."* Addison seems at that moment
that of its execution, are not in its favour. These volumes were written
within six months of the decease of our poet ; have no publisher's name ;
and yet the author, whoever he was, took out "a patent, under his
majesty's royal signet," for securing the copyright. This Ayre is so obscure
an author, though a translator of Tasso's "Aminta," that he seems to
have escaped even the minor chronicles of literature. At the time of its
publication there appeared "Remarks on Squire Ayre's Memoirs of Pope."
The writer pretends he has discovered him to be only one of the renowned
Edmund Curll's "squires," who, about that time, had created an order of
literary squires, ready to tramp at the funeral of every great personage
with his life. The "Remarker" then addresses Curll, and insinuates he
speaks from personal knowledge of the man : — "You have an adversaria
of title-pages of your own contrivance, and which your authors are to write
books to. Among what you call the occasional, or black list, I have seen
Memoirs of Dean Swift, Pope, &c." Curll, indeed, was then sending forth
many pseudo squires, with lives of "Congreve," " Mrs. Oldfield," &c. ; all
which contained some curious particulars, picked up in coffee-houses, con-
versations, or pamphlets of the day. This William Ayre I accept as "a
squire of low degree," but a real personage. As for this interview, Ayre
was certainly incompetent to the invention of a single stroke of the conver-
sations detailed : where he obtained all these interesting particulars, I have
not discovered. Johnson alludes to this interview, states some of its results,
but refers to no other authority than floating rumours.
* The line stood originally, and nearly literally copied from Isaiah —
"He wipes the tears for ever from our eyes ;'*
which Steele retouched, as it now stands —
" From every face he wipes oflF every tear."
320 Quarrels of Authors.
to have forgotten that he had trusted, for the last line of his
own dramatic poem, rather to the inspiration of the poet he
was so contemptuously lecturing than to his own.* He pro-
ceeded with detailing all the abuse the herd of scribblers had
heaped on Pope ; and by declaring that his Homer was " an
ill-executed thing," and TickelPs had all the spirit. We are
told, he concluded " in a low hollow voice of feigned temper,"
in which he asserted that he had ceased to be solicitous
about his own poetical reputation since he had entered into
more public affairs ; but, from friendship for Pope, desired
him to be more humble, if he wished to appear a better man
to the world. ■
When Addison had quite finished schooling his little rebel,
Gay, mild and timid (for it seems, with all his love for Pope,
his expectations from the court, from Addison's side, had
tethered his gentle heart), attempted to say something. But
Pope, in a tone far more spirited than all of them, without
reserve told Addison that he appealed from his judgment,
and did not esteem him able to correct his verses ; upbraided
him as a pensioner from early youth, directing the learning
which had been obtained by the public money to his own
selfish desire of power, dnd that he " had always endeavoured
to cut down new-fledged merit." The conversation now be-
came a contest, and was broken up without ceremony. Such
was the notable interview between two rival wits, which only
ended in strengthening their literary quarrel ; and sent back
the enraged satirist to his inkstand, where he composed a
portrait, for which Addison was made to sit, with the fine
cJiiar' oscuro of Horace, and with as awful and vindictive
features as the sombre hand of Juvenal could have designed.
Dr. Warton prefers the rejected verse. The latter, he thinks, has too
much of modern quaintness. The difficulty of choice lies between that
naked simplicity which scarcely affects, and those strokes of art which are
too apparent.
* The last line of Addison's tragedy read originally —
** And oh ! 'twas this that ended Cato's life."
A very weak line, which was altered at the suggestion of Pope as it stands
at present : —
*' And robs the guilty world of Cato's life." — Ed.
BOLINGBEOKE AND MALLET'S POSTHUMOUS
QUARKEL WITH POPE.
Lord BoLTNGBROKE affects violent resentment for Pope's pretended breach
of confidence in having printed his "Patriot King" — Warburton's
apology for Pope's disinterested intentions — Bolingbroke instigates
Mallet to libel Pope, after the poet's death — The real motive for
libelling Pope was Bolingbroke's personal hatred of Warburton, for
the ascendancy the latter had obtained over the poet — Some account of
their rival conflicts — Bolingbroke had unsettled Pope's religious
opinions, and Warburton had confirmed his faith — Pope, however,
refuses to abjure the Catholic religion — Anecdote of Pope's anxiety
respecting a future state — Mallet's intercourse with Pope : anecdote of
"The Apollo Vision," where Mallet mistook a sarcasm for a compli-
ment — Mallet's character — Why Leonid as Glover declined writing
the Life of Marlborough — Bolingbroke's character hit off — Warburton,
the concealed object of this posthumous quarrel with Pope.
Ojt the death of Pope, 1500 copies of one of Lord Boling-
beoke's works, " The Patriot King," were discovered to have
been secretly printed by Pope, but never published. The
honest printer presented the whole to his lordship, who burned
the edition in his gardens at Battersea. The MS. had been
delivered to our poet by his lordship, with a request to print
a few copies for its better preservation, and for the use of a
few friends.
Bolingbroke affected to feel the most lively resentment for
what he chose to stigmatise as " a breach of confidence."
" His thirst of vengeance," said Johnson, " incited him to
blast the memory of the man over whom he had wept in his
last struggles ; and he employed Mallet, another friend of
Pope, to tell the tale to the pubhc with all its aggravations.
Warburton, whose heart was warm ,with his legacy, and
tender by the recent separation," apologised for Pope. The
irregular conduct which Bolingbroke stigmatised as a breach
of trust, was attributed to a desire of perpetuating the work
of his friend, who might have capriciously destroyed it. Our
poet could have no selfish motive ; he could not gratify his
vanity by publishing the work as his own, nor his avarice by
X
322 Quarrels of Authors,
its sale, which could never have taken place till the death of
its author ; a circumstance not likely to occur during Pope's
lifetime.*
The vindictive rage of Bolinghroke ; the bitter invective he
permitted Mallet to publish, as the editor of his works ; and
the two anonymous pamphlets of the latter, which I have
noticed in the article of Waeburtok ; are effects much too
disproportionate to the cause which is usually assigned.
Johnson does not develope the secret motives of what he has
energetically termed " Bolingbroke's thirst of vengeance.'*
He and Mallet carried their secret revenge beyond all bounds:
the lordly stoic and the irritated bardling, under the cloak of
anonymous calumny, have but ill- concealed the malignity of
their passions. Let anonymous calumniators recollect, in
the midst of their dark work, that if they escape the detec-
tion of their contemporaries, their reputation, if they have
any to lose, will not probably elude the researches of the his-
torian ; — a fatal witness against them at the tribunal of
posterity.
The preface of Mallet to the " Patriot King" of Boling-
hroke, produced a literary quarrel ; and more pamphlets than
perhaps I have discovered were published on this occasion.
Every lover of literature was indignant to observe that the
vain and petulant Mallet, under the protection of Pope's
Guide, philosopher, and friend !
should have been permitted to have aspersed Pope with the
most degrading language. Pope is here always designated as
"This Man." Thus " This Man was no sooner dead than
Lord Bolinghroke received information that an entire edition
of 1500 copies of these papers had been printed ; that this very
Man had corrected the press, &c." Could one imagine that
this was the TuUy of England, describing our Virgil ? For
Mallet was but the mouthpiece of Bolinghroke.
After a careful detection of many facts concerning the
parties now before us, I must attribute the concealed motive
* At the time, to season the tale for the babble of Literary Tattlers, it
was propagated that Pope intended, on the death of Bolingbroke, to sell
this eighteenpenny pamphlet at a guinea a copy ; which would have pro-
duced an addition of as many hundreds to the thousands which the poet
had honourably reaped from his Homer. This was the ridiculous lie of
the day, which lasted long enough to obtain its purpose, and to cast an
odium on the shade of Pope. Pope must have been a miserable calculator
of survivor ships, if ever he had reckoned on this.
Bolingbrokej Mallet^ and Pope, 323
of this outrage on Pope to the election the dying poet made
of Warburton as his editor. A mortal hatred raged between
Bolingbroke and Warburton. The philosophical lord had
seen the mighty theologian ravish the prey from his grasp.
Although Pope held in idolatrous veneration the genius of
Bolingbroke, yet had this literary superstition been gradually
enlightened by the energy of Warburton. They were his
good and his evil genii in a dreadful conflict, wrestling to
obtain the entire possession of the soul of the mortal. Boling-
broke and Warburton one day disputed before Pope, and
parted never to meet again. The will of Pope bears the trace
of his divided feelings : he left his MSS. to Bolingbroke as his
executor, but his works to Warburton as his editor. The
secret history of Bolingbroke and Warburton with Pope is
little known : the note will supply it.*
* Splendid as was the genius of Bolingbroke, the gigantic force of War-
burton obtained the supei'iority. Had the contest solely depended on the
effusions of genius, Bolingbroke might have prevailed ; but an object more
important than human interests induced the poet to throw himself into the
arms of Warburton.
The * ' Essay on Man " had been reformed by the subtle aid of War-
burton, in opposition to the objectionable principles which Bolingbroke had
infused into his system of philosophy : this, no doubt, had vexed Boling-
broke. But another circumstance occurred ofa more mortifying nature. When
Pope one day showed Warburton Bolingbroke's "Letters on the Study and
Use of History," printed, but not published, and concealing the name of
the author, Warburton not only made several very free strictures on that
work, but particularly attacked a digression concerning the authenticity of
the Old Testament. Pope requested him to write his remarks down as
they had occurred, which he instantly did ; and Pope was so satisfied with
them, that he crossed out the digression in the printed book, and sent the
animadversions to Lord Bolingbroke, then at Paris. The style of the great
dogmatist, thrown out in heat, must no doubt have contained many fiery
particles, all which fell into the most inflammable of minds. Pope soon dis-
covered his oflSciousness was received with indignation. Yet when Boling-
broke afterwards met Warburton he dissimulated : he used the language of
compliment, but in a tone which claimed homage. The two most arrogant
geniuses who ever lived, in vain exacted submission from each other : they
could allow of no divided empire, and they were born to hate each other.
Bolingbroke suppressed his sore feelings, for at that very time he was em-
ployed in collecting matter to refute the objections ; treasuring up his
secret vengeance against Pope and Warburton, which he threw out imme-
diately on the death of Pope. I collect these particulars from Ruffhead,
p. 527, and whenever, in that volume, Warburton's name is introduced, it
must be considered as coming from himself.
The reasonings of Bolingbroke appear at times to have disturbed the
religious faith of our poet, and he owed much to Warburton in having that
faith confirmed. But Pope rejected, with his characteristic good sense,
Warburton's tampering with him to abjure the Catholic religion. On the
t2
324 Quarrels of Authors.
But how did the puny Mallet stand connected with these
great men ? By the pamphlets published during this literary
quarrel he appears to have enjoyed a more intimate inter-
course with them than is known. In one of them he is
characterised "as a fellow who, while Mr. Pope lived, was as
diligent in licking his feet, as he is now in licking your lord-
ship's ; and who, for the sake of giving himself an air of im-
portance, in being joined with you, and for the vanity of
saying 'the Author and I,' — 'the Editor and me,' — has
sacrificed all his pretensions to friendship, honour, and
humanity."* An anecdote in this pamphlet assigns a suffi-
cient motive to excite some wrath in a much less irri-
table animal than the self-important editor of Bolingbroke's
Works. The anecdote may be distinguished as
THE APOLLO YISION.
" The editor (Mallet) being in company with the person to
whom Mr. Pope has consigned the care of his works (War-
burton), and who, he thought, had some intention of writing
Mr. Pope's life, told him he had an anecdote, which he be-
lieved nobody knew but himself. I was sitting one day (said
he) with Mr. Pope, in his last ilhiess, who coming suddenly
out of a reverie, which you know he frequently fell into at
that time, and fixing his eyes steadfastly upon me ; ' Mr. M.
(said he), I have had an odd kind of vision. Methought I
saw my own head open, and Apollo came out of it ; I then
saw your head open, and Apollo went into it; after which our
heads closed up again.' The gentleman (Warburton) could
not help smiling at his vanity; and with some humour replied,
*Why, sir, if I had an intention of writing your life, this
belief of a future state, Pope seems often to have meditated with great
anxiety ; and an anecdote is recorded of his latest hours, which shows how
strongly that important belief affected him. A day or two before his death
he was at times delirious, and about four o'clock in the morning he rose
from bed and went to the library, where a friend who was watching hiji
found him busily writing. He persuaded him to desist, and withdrew the
paper he had written. The subject of the thoughts of the delirious poet
was a new theory on the "Immortality of the Soul," in which he dis-
tinguished between those material objects which tended to strengthen his
conviction, and those which weakened it. The paper which contained
these disordered thoughts was shown to Warburton, and surely has been
preserved.
* "A letter to the Lord Viscount B ke, occasioned by his treatment of
a deceased friend." Printed for A. Moore, without date. This pamphlet
either came from Warburton himself, or from one of his intimates. The
writer, too, calls Pope his friend.
Bolingbroke, Mallet, and Pope, 325
might perhaps be a proper anecdote ; but I don't see, that in
Mr. Pope's it will be of any consequence at all.' " P. 14.
This exhibits a curious instance of an author's egotism, or
rather of Mallet's conceit, contriving, by some means, to have
his name slide into the projected Life of Pope by Warburton,
who appears, however, always to have treated him with the
contempt Pope himself evidently did.* What opinion could the
* We find also the name of Mallet closely connected with another person
of eminence, the Patriot-Poet, Leonidas Glover. I take this opportunity
of correcting a surmise of Johnson's in his Life of Mallet, respecting
Glover, and which also places Mallet's character in a true light.
A minute life of Mallet might exhibit a curious example of mediocrity
of talent, with but suspicious virtues, brought forward by the accident of
great connexions, placing a bustling intriguer much higher in the scale of
society than "our philosophy ever dreamt of." Johnson says of Mallet,
that "It was remarkable of him, that he was the only Scot whom Scotch-
men did not commend," From having been accidentally chosen as private
tutor to the Duke of Montrose, he wound himself into the favour of the
party at Leicester House ; he wrote tragedies conjointly with Thomson, and
was appointed, with Glover, to write the Life of the Duke of Marlborough.
Yet he had already shown to the world his scanty talent for biography in
his " Life of Lord Bacon," on which Warburton so acutely animadverted.
According to Johnson's account, the Duchess of Marlborough assigned the
task of writing the Life of the Duke to Glover and to Mallet, with a remu-
neration of a thousand pounds. She must, however, have mortified the
poets by subjoining the sarcastic prohibition that "no verses should be
inserted." Johnson adds, "Glover, I suppose, rejected with disdain the
legacy, and devolved the whole work upon Mallet,"
The cause why Glover declined this work could not, indeed, be known to
Johnson : it arose from a far more dignified motive than the petty disdain
of the legacy, which our great literary biographer has surmised. It can
now be told in his own words, which I derive from a very interesting
extract communicated to me by my friend Mr. Duppa, from that portion of
the MS. Memoirs of Glover not yet published.
I shall first quote the remarkable codicil from the original will of her
Grace, which Mr. Duppa took the pains to consult. She assigns her
reasons for the choice of her historians, and discriminates between the two
authors. After bequeathing the thousand pounds for them, she adds : "I
believe Mr. Glover is a very honest man, who wishes, as I do, all the good
that can happen, to preserve the liberties and laws of England, Mr.
Mallet was recommended to me by the late Duke of Montrose, whom I
admired extremely for his great steadiness and behaviour in all things that
related to the preservation of our laws and the public good." — Thus her
Grace has expressed a personal knowledge and confidence in Glover, dis-
tinctly marked from her " recommended" acquaintance Mallet.
Glover refused the office of historian, not from "disdain of the
legacy," nor for any deficient zeal for the hero whom he admired. He
refused it with sorrowful disappointment ; for, besides the fantastical re-
strictions of "not writing any verses;" and the cruel one of yoking such a
patriot with the servile Mallet, there was one which placed the revision of
the work in the hands of the Earl of Chesterfield : this was the circuni
336 Quarrels of Authors,
poet have entertained of tb*^ taste of that weak and vain critic,
who, when Pope published anonymously "The Essay on Man,'*
being asked if anything new had appeared, replied that he had
looked over a thing called an " Essay on Man," but, discovering
the utter want of skill and knowledge in the author, had thrown
it aside. Pope mortified him by confiding to him the secret.
" The Apollo Vision " was a stinging anecdote, and it came
from Y/arburton either directly or indirectly. This was fol-
atance at which the dignified genius of Glover rerolted. Chesterfield's
mean political character had excited his indignation ; and he has drawn a
lively picture of this polished nobleman's "eager prostitution," in his
printed Memoiis, recently published under the title of "Memoirs of a
celebrated Literary and Political Character," p. 24.
In the following passage, this great-minded man, for such he was,
"unburthens his heart in a melancholy digression from his plain nar-
rative."
*' Composing such a narrative (alluding to his own Memoirs) and endea-
vouring to establish such a temper of mind, I cannot at intervals refrain
from regret that the capricious restrictions in the Duchess of Marl-
borough's will, appointing me to write the life of her illustrious husband,
compelled me to reject the undertaking. There, conduct, valour, and suc-
cess abroad ; prudence, perseverance, learning, and science, at home ;
would have shed some portion of their graces on their historian's page : a
mediocrity of talent would have felt an unwonted elevation in the bare
attempt of transmitting so splendid a period to succeeding ages." Such
was the dignified regret of Glover !
Doubtless, he disdained, too, his colleague ; but Mallet reaped the whole
legacy, and still more, a pension : pretending to be always occupied on the
Life of Marlborough, and every day talking of the great discoveries he had
made, he contrived to make this nonentity serve his own purposes. Once
hinting to Garrick, that, in spite of chronology, by some secret device of
anticipation, he had reserved a niche in this great work for the Roscius of
his own times, the gratitude of Garrick was instant. He recollected that
Mallet was a tragedy-writer ; and it also appeared that our dramatic
bardling had one ready. As for the pretended Life of Marlborough, not a
line appears ever to have been written !
Such was the end of the ardent solicitude and caprice of the Duchess of
Marlborough, exemplified in the last solemn act of life, where she betrayed
the same warmth of passion, and the same arrogant caprice she had always
indulged, at the cost of her judgment, in what Pope emphatically terms
"the trade of the world." She was
** The wisest fool much time has ever made."
Even in this darling project of her last ambition, to immortalise her
name, she had incumbered it with such arrogant injunctions, mixed up
such contrary elements, that they were certain to undo their own purpose.
Such was the barren harvest she gathered through a life of passion,
regulated by no pi'inciple of conduct. One of the most finished portraits of
Pope is the Atossa, in his " Epistle on Woman." How admirably he shows
what the present instant proves, that she was one who, always possessing
the means, was sure to lose the ends.
/^\>^" "
f OFTHE
UNIVERSiTY
OF /£
Cj^..pQ^^v^^^ingbroJce, Mallet , and Pope. 327
lowed up by " A Letter to the Editor of the Letters on the
Spirit of Patriotism, the Idea of a Patriot King," &c., a dig-
nified remonstrance of Warburton himself; but "The Impos-
tor Detected and Convicted, or the Principles and Practices of
the Author of the Spirit of Patriotism (Lord Bolingbroke)
set forth in a clear light, in a Letter to a Member of Parlia-
ment in Town, from his Friend in the Country, 1749," is a
remarkable production. Lord Bolingbroke is the impostor
and the concealed Jacobite. Time, the ablest critic on these
party productions, has verified the predictions of this seer.
We discover here, too, a literary fact, which is necessary to
complete our present history. It seems that there were
omissions and corrections in the edition Pope printed of " The
Patriot King," which his caution or his moderation prompted,
and which such a political damagogue as Bolingbroke never
forgave. They are thus alluded to : " Lord B. may remem-
ber" (from a conversation held, at which the writer appears
to have been present), " that a difference in opinion prevailed,
and a few points were urged by that gentleman (Pope) in
opposition to some particular tenets which related to the
limitation of the English monarchy, and to the ideal doctrine
of a patriot king. These were Mr. P.'s reasons for the emen-
dations he made ; and which, together with the consideration
that both their lives were at that time in a declining state,
was the true cause, and no other, of his care to preserve those
letters, by handing them to the press, with the precaution
mentioned by the author." Indeed the cry raised against the
dead man by Bolingbroke and Mallet, was an artificial one :
that it should ever have tainted the honour of the bard, or
that it should ever have been excited by his " Philosopher and
Friend," are equally strange ; it is possible that the malice of
Mallet was more at work than that of Bolingbroke, who
suffered himself to be the dupe of a man held in contempt by
Pope, by Warburton, and by others. But the pamphlet I
have just noticed might have enraged Bolingbroke, because
his true character is ably drawn in it. The writer says that
" a person in an eminent station of life abroad, when Lord
B was at Paris to transact a certain afiair, said, C'esf
certainement unhomme d' esprit, mais un coquin sans prohite.^*
This was a very disagreeable truth !
In one of these pamphlets, too, Bolingbroke was mortified
at his dignity being lessened by the writer, in comparing his
lordship with their late Mend Pope. — " I venture to foretell,
328 Quarrels of Authors.
that the name of Mr. Pope, in spite of your unmanly endea-
vours, shall revive and blossom in the dust, from his own
merits ; and presume to remind you, that yours, had it not
been for Ms genius, his friendship, his idolatrous veneration for
you, might, in a short course of years, have died and been
forgotten." Whatever the degree of genius Bolingbroke may
claim, doubtless the verse of Pope has embalmed his fame.
I have never been able to discover the authors of these
pamphlets, who all appear of the first rank, and who seem to
have written under the eye of Warburton. The awful and
vindictive Bolingbroke, and the malignant and petulant
Mallet, did not long brood over their anger: he or they gave
it vent on the head of Warburton, in those two furious
pamphlets, which I have noticed in the Quarrels of Warbur-
ton." All these pamphlets were published in the same
year, 1749, so that it is now difficult to arrange them
according to their priority. Enough has been shown to prove,
that the loud outcry of Bolingbroke and Mallet, in their
posthumous attack on Pope, arose from their unforgiving
malice against him, for the preference by which the poet had
distinguished Warburton ; and that Warburton, much more
than Pope, was the real object of this masked battery.
LINTOT'S ACCOUNT-BOOK.
Ak odd sort of a literary curiosity has fallen in my way. It
throws some light on the history of the heroes of the Dunciad;
but such minuticd literaricB are only for my bibliographical
readers.
It is a book of accounts, which belonged to the renowned
Bebnard Lintot, the bookseller, whose character has been
so humorously preserved by Pope, in a dialogue which the
poet has given as having passed between them in Windsor
Forest. The book is entitled " Copies, when Purchased^
The power of genius is exemplified in the ledger of the book-
seller as much as in any other book ; and while I here dis-
cover, that the moneys received even by such men of genius
as Gay, Farquhar, Cibber, and Dr. King, amount to small
sums, and such authors as Dennis, Theobald, Ozell, and
Toland, scarcely amount to anything, that of Pope much ex-
ceeds 4000Z.
I am not in all cases confident of the nature of these
Lintot's Account-Book,
329
" Copies purchased ;" those works which were originally pub-
lished by Lintot may be considered as purchased at the sums
specified : some few might have been subsequent to their first
edition. The guinea, at that time, passing for twenty-one
shillings and sixpence, has occasioned the fractions.
I transcribe Pope's account. Here it appears that he sold
" The Key to the Lock " and " Parnell's Poems." The poem
entitled, "To the Author of a Poem called Successio,''^ appears
to have been written by Pope, and has escaped the researches
of his editors. The smaller poems were contributed to a
volume of Poetical Miscellanies, published by Lintot.*
MR. POPE,
19 Feb. 1711-12.
Statius, First Book
Vertumnus and Pomona .
21 March, 1711-12.
First Edition Rape
9 April, 1712.
To a Lady presenting Voiture
Upon Silence
To the Author of a Poem called Successio
23 Feb. 1712-13.
Windsor Forest ....
23 Jtchj, 1713.
Ode on St. Cecilia's day
20th Feb. 1713-14.
Additions to the Rape . . •
1 Feb. 1714-15.
Temple of Fame ....
30 April, 1715.
Key to the Lock ....
17 July, 1716.
Essay on Criticismf , , ,
13 Dec. 1721.
Parnell's Poems . , , .
23 March, 1713.
Homer, vol. i. . , ,
650 books on royal paper
£ s. d.
16 2 6
7
3 16 6
32 5
15
15
32 5
10 15
15
15
215
176
* ** Miscellaneous Poems and Translations, by several Hands," 1712. —
The second edition appeared in 1714 ; and in the title-page are enumerated
the poems mentioned in this account, and Pope's name affixed, as if he
were the actual editor — an idea which Mr. Nichols thought he affected to
discountenance. It is probable that Pope was the editor. We see, by this
account, that he was paid for his contributions.
+ This was a new edition, published conjointly by Lintot and Lewis, the
Catholic bookseller and early friend of Pope, of whom, and of the first
edition, 1711, I have preserved an anecdote, p. 280,
330 Quarrels of Authors,
9 Feb. 1715-16. £ s. d.
Homer, vol. ii , 215
7 May, 1716.
650 royal paper 160
This article is repeated to the sixth volume of
Homer. To which is to be added another sum
of 840Z., paid for an assignment of all the copies.
The whole of this part of the account amount-
ing to 3203 4
Copy-moneys for the Odyssey, vols. i. ii. iii., and 750
of each vol. royal paper, 4to.
Ditto for the vols. iv.
sr, 4to. .
and 750 do. •
. 615 6
. 425 18 74
£4244 8 74
MR. GAT.
£ 8. d.
. 25
12 May, 1713.
Wife of Bath
11 Nov. 1714.
Letter to a Lady 5 7 6
14 Feb. 1714.
The What d'ye call it ? 16 2 6
22 Dec. 1715.
Trivia. . . ; •. . . . . 43
Epistle to the Earl of Burlington . . , . 10 15
4 May, 1717.
Battle of the Frogs . i ; i -. . 16 2 6
8 Jan. 1717.
Three Hours after Marriage i ; . • . 43 2 6
The Mohocks, a Farce, 21. 10s.
(Sold the Mohocks to him again. *)
Kevival of the Wife of Bath 75
£234 10
* The late Isaac Reed, in the Biog. Dramatica, was uncertain whether
Gay was the author of this unacted drama. It is a satire on the inhuman
frolics of the bucks and bloods of those days, who imitated the savageness
of the Indians whose name they assumed. ^ Why Gay repurchased *' The
^ The brutal amusements of these "Mohocks," and the helpless terror
of London, is scarcely credible in modern days. Wild bands of drunken men
nightly infested the streets, attacking and ill-using every passer-by. A
favourite pastime was to surround their victim with drawn swords, prick-
ing him on every side as he endeavoured to escape. Many persons were
maimed and dangerously wounded. Gay, in his Trivia, has noted some of
their more innocent practical jokes ; and asks —
*' Who has not trembled at the Mohock's name ?
Was there a watchman took his hourly rounds,
Safe from their blows or new invented wounds ?"
Swift, in his notes to Stella, has expressed his dread, while in London,
of being maimed, or perhaps killed, by them. — Ed.
Lintofs Account-Book, 331
MR. DENNIS,
Feb. 24, 1703-4. £ s. d.
Liberty Asserted, one half share* , , . .730
10 Nov. 1708.
Appius and Virginia 21 10
25 A^ril, 1711.
Essay on Public Spirit 2 12 6
6 /aw. 1711.
Remarks on Pope's Essay 2 12 6
Dennis must have sold himself to criticism from ill-nature,
and not for pay. One is surprised that his two tragedies
should have been worth a great deal more than his criticism.
Criticism was then worth no more than too frequently it
deserves ; Dr. Sewel, for his " Observations on the Tragedy
of Jane SJiore,^^ received only a guinea.
I had suggested a doubt whether Theobald attempted to
translate from the original Greek : one would suppose he did
by the following entry, which has a line drawn through it,
as if the agreement had not been executed. Perhaps Lintot
submitted to pay Theobald for not doing the Odyssey when
Pope undertook it.
MR. THEOBALD.
23 May, 1713. £ s. d.
Plato's Phgedon . 5 7 6
For AUsculus's Trag 116
being part of Tea Guineas.
12 June, 1714.
La Motte's Homer 3 4 6
April 21, 1714. Articles signed by Mr. Theobald, to translate for B.
Lintot the 24 books of Homer's Odyssey into English blank verse. Also
the four Tragedies of Sophocles, called (Edipus Tyrannus, CEdipus Colo-
neus, Trachiniae, and Philoctetes, into English blank verse, with Expla-
Mohocks," remains to be discovered. Was it another joint production with
Pope ? — The literary co-partnership between Pope and Gay has never been
opened to the curious. It is probable that Pope was consulted, if not
concerned, in writing * ' The What d'ye call it ?" which, Jacob says in his
" Poetical Register," ''exposes several of our eminent poets." Jacob pub-
lished while Gay was living, and seems to allude to this literary co-part-
nership ; for, speaking of Gay, he says : "that having an inclination to
poetry, by the strength of his own genius, and the conversation of Mr.
Pope, he has made some progress in poetical writings."
This tragi-comical farce of * ' The Mohocks" is satirically dedicated to
Dennis, " as a horrid and tremendous piece, formed on the model of his
own ' Appius and Virginia.' " This touch seems to come from the finger
of Pope. It is a mock-tragedy, for the Mohocks themselves rant in blank
verse ; a feeble pei-formance, far inferior to its happier predecessor, " The
What d'ye call it ?"
* Bought of Mr. George Strahan, bookseller.
332 Quarrels of Authors.
natory Notes to the twenty-four Books of the Odyssey, and to the four
Tragedies. To receive, for translating every 450 Greek verses, with Ex-
planatory Notes thereon, the sum of 21. 10s.
To translate likewise the Satires and Epistles of Horace into Englisb
rhyme. For every 120 Latin lines so translated, the sum of 1^. Is. Qd.
These Articles to be performed, according to the time specified, und^
the penalty of fifty pounds, payable by either party's default in perform-
ance.
Paid in hand, 21. 10«.
It appears that Toland never got above 5Z., lOZ., or 201.,
for his publications. See his article in " Calamities of
Authors," p. 155. I discovered the humiliating conditions
that attended his publications, from an examination of his
original papers. All this author seems to have reaped from
a life devoted to literary enterprise, and philosophy, and
patriotism, appears not to have exceeded 200Z.
Here, too, we find that the facetious Dr. King threw away
all his sterling wit for five miserable pounds, though " The
Art of Cookery," and that of " Love," obtained a more
honourable price. But a mere school-book probably inspired
our lively genius with more real facetiousness than any of
those works which communicate so much to others.
DR. KINO.
18 Feb. 1707-8. £ «. d.
Paid for Art of Cookery 32 5
16 Feb. 1708-9.
Paid for the First Part of Transactions . . .500
Paid for his Art of Love 32 6
23 June, 1709.
Paid for the Second Part of the Transactions* . .500
4 March, 1709-10.
Paid for the History of Cajamai . . . .500
10 Nov. 1710.
Paid for King's Gods 50
1 July, 1712.
Useful Miscellany, Part 1 116
Paid for the Useful Miscellany . . . .300
Lintot utters a groan over " The Duke of Buckingham's
Works" (Sheffield), for " having been jockeyed of them by
Alderman Barber and Tonson." Who can ensure literary
celebrity ? No bookseller would now regret being jockeyed
out of his Grace's works !
The history of plays appears here somewhat curious : —
tragedies, then the fashionable dramas, obtained a considerable
* For an account of these humorous pieces, see the following article on
"The Eoyal Society."
Pope's Earliest Satire, 33i^
price; for thougli Dennis's luckier one reached only to 21Z.,
Dr. Young's Busiris acquired 84Z. Smith's Phcedra and
Hippolytics, oOl. ; Rowe's Jane Shore, 501. 16s ; and Jane
Oray, 751. 5s. Gibber's Nonjuror obtained 105Z. for the
copyright.
Is it not a little mortifying to observe, that among all these
customers of genius whose names enrich the ledger of the
bookseller, Jacob, that " blunderbuss of law," while his law-
books occupy in space as much as Mr Pope's works, the
amount of his account stands next in value, far beyotid many
a name which has immortalised itself!
POPE'S EAELIEST SATIRE.
We find by the first edition of Lintot's " Miscellaneous
Poems," that the anonymous lines "To the Author of a
Poem called Successio,'^ was a literary satire by Pope, written
when he had scarcely attained his fourteenth year. This
satire, the first probably he wrote for the press, and in which
he has succeeded so well, that it might have induced him to
pursue the bent of his genius, merits preservation. The juve-
nile composition bears the marks of his future excellences : it
has the tune of his verse, and the images of his wit. Thirt}'
years afterwards, when occupied by the JDunciad, he trans-
planted and pruned again some of the original images.
The hero of this satire is Elkanah Settle. The subject is
one of those Whig poems, designed to celebrate the happiness
of an uninterrupted "Succession" in the Crown, at the time
the Act of Settlement passed, which transferred it to the
Hanoverian line. The rhymer and his theme were equally
contemptible to the juvenile Jacobite poet.
The hoarse and voluminous Codrus of Juvenal aptly desig-
nates this eternal verse-maker ; — one who has written with
such constant copiousness, that no bibliographer has presumed
to form a complete list of his works.*
When Settle had outlived his temporary rivalship with
Dryden, and was reduced to mere Settle, he published party-
poems, in folio, composed in Latin, accompanied by his own
translations. These folio poems, uniformly bound, except
that the arms of his patrons, or ratlier his purchasers, richly
* The fullest account we have of Settle, a busy scribe in his day, is ia
Mr. Nichols's ** Literary Anecdotes," vol. i. p. 41.
334 Quarrels of Authors.
gilt, emblazon the black morocco, may still be found. These
presentation-copies were sent round to the chiefs of the party,
with a mendicant's petition, of which some still exist. To
have a clear conception of the present views of some politicians,
it is necessary to read their history backwards. In 1702,
when Settle published " Successio," he must have been a
Whig. In 1685 he was a Tory, commemorating, by a heroic
poem, the coronation of James II., and writing periodically
against the Whigs. In 1680 he had left the Tories for the
Whigs, and conducted the whole management of burning the
Pope, then a very solemn national ceremony.* A Whig, a
pope-burner, and a Codrus, afforded a full di'aught of inspira-
tion to the nascent genius of our youthful satirist.
Settle, in his latter state of wretchedness, had one standard
elegy and epithalamium printed off with blanks. By the in-
genious contrivance of inserting the name of any considerable
person who died or was married, no one who had gone out of
the world or was entering into it but was equally welcome to
this dinnerless livery-man of the draggled-tailed Muses. I
have elsewhere noticed his last exit from this state of poetry
and of pauperism, when, leaping into a green dragon which
his own creative genius had invented, in a theatrical booth,
Codrus, in hissing flames and terrifying-morocco folds, disco-
vered "the fate of talents misappHed!"
TO THE AUTHOR OF A POEM ENTITLED " SUCCESSIO."
Begone, ye critics, and restrain your spite ;
Codrus writes on, and will for ever write.
The heaviest Muse the swiftest course has gone,
As clocks run fastest when most lead is on.+
* It was the custom when party feeling ran high on the subject of
papacy, towards the close of the reign of Charles the Second, to get up
these solemn mock-processions of the Pope and Cardinals, accompanied
with figures to represent Sir Edmundbury Godfrey, and other subjects well
adapted to heat popular feelings, and parade them through the streets of
London. The day chosen for this was the anniversary of the Coronation of
Queen Elizabeth (Nov. 17), and when the procession reached Temple-bar,
the figure of the Pope was tossed from his chair by one dressed as the Devil
into a great bonfire made opposite the statue of Queen Elizabeth, on the
city side of Temple-bar. Two rare tracts describe these "solemn mock-
processions," as they are termed, in 1679 and 1680. Prints were also
published depicting the whole proceedings, and descriptive pamphlets from
the pen of Settle, who arranged these shows. — Ed.
+ Thus altered in the Dunciad, book i., ver. 183 —
"As clocks to weight their nimble motions owe.
The wheels above urged by the load below."
Pope*s Earliest Satire, 335
What though no bees around your cradle flew,
Nor on your lips distill' d their golden dew ;
Yet have we oft discover'd in their stead,
A swarm of drones that buzz'd about your heaJl.
"When you, like Orpheus, strike the warbling lyre,
Attentive blocks stand round you, and admire.
Wit past through thee no longer is the same,
As meat digested takes a different name ; *
But sense must sure thy safest plunder be,
Since no reprisals can be made on thee.
Thus thou mayst rise, and in thy daring flight
(Though ne'er so weighty) reach a wondrous height :
So, forced from engines, lead itself can fly,
And pond'rous slugs move nimbly through the sky.i*
Sure Bavius copied Msevius to the full.
And CniBRiLUst taught Codrus to be dull ;
Therefore, dear friend, at my advice give o'er
This needless labour, and contend no more
To prove a dull Succession to be true,
Since 'tis enough we find it so in you.
* This original image a late caustic wit (Home Tooke), who probably
had never read this poem, employed on a certain occasion. Godwin, who
had then distinguished himself by his genius and by some hardy paradoxes,
was pleading for them as hardily, by showing that they did not originate in
him — ^that they were to be found in Helvetius, in Rousseau, and in
other modern philosophers. *' Ay," retorted the cynical wit ; " so you eat
at my table venison and turtle, but from you the same things come quite
changed !" The original, after all, is in Donne, long afterwards versified
by our poet. See Warton's edition, vol. iv. p. 257. Pope must have been
an early reader of Donne.
f Thus altered in the Dunciad, book i. ver, 181 —
' ' As, forced from wind-guns, lead itself can fly,
And pond'rous slugs cut swiftly through the sky."
t Perhaps, by Chcerilus, the juvenile satirist designated FlecMoe, or
Shadwell, who had received their immortality of dulness from his master,
catholic in poetry and opinions, Dryden,
THE ROYAL SOCIETY.
The Royal Society at first opposed from various quarters — their Experi-
mental Philosophy supplants the Aristotelian methods — suspected of
being the concealed Advocates of Popery, Arbitrary Power, and Atheism
— disappointments incurred by their promises — the simplicity of the
early Inquirers — ridiculed by the Wits and others — Narrative of a
quarrel between a Member of the Royal Society and an Aristotelian —
Glanvill writes his "Plus Ulti'a," to show the Improvements of Modern
Knowledge — Character of Stubbe of Warwick — his Apology, from him-
self — opposes the "Plus Ultra" by the "Plus Ultra reduced to a
Nonplus" — his "Campanella revived" — the Political Projects of Cam-
panella — Stubbe persecuted, and menaced to be publicly whipped ; his
Roman spirit — his "Legends no Histories" — his "Censure on some
Passages of the History of the Royal Society" — Harvey's ambition
to be considered the Discoverer of the Circulation of the Blood,
which he demonstrates — Stubbe describes the Philosophy of Science —
attacks Sprat's Dedication to the King — The Philosophical Transactions
published by Sir Hans Sloane ridiculed by Dr. King — his new Species
of Literary Burlesque — King's character — these attacks not ineffectually
renewed by Sir John Hill.
The Eotal Society, on its first establishment, at the era of*
the Restoration, encountered fierce hostilities ; nor, even at
later periods, has it escaped many wanton attacks. A great
revolution in the human mind was opening with that esta-
blishment ; for the spirit which had appeared in the recent
political concussion, and which had given freedom to opinion,
and a bolder scope to enterprise, had now reached the literary
and philosophical world; but causes of the most opposite
natures operated against this institution of infant science.
In the first place, the new experimental philosophy, full of
inventions and operations, proposed to supplant the old scho-
lastic philosophy, which still retained an obscure jargon of
terms, the most frivolous subtilties, and all those empty and
artificial methods by which it pretended to decide on all topics.
Too long it had filled the ear with airy speculation, while it
starved the mind that languished for sense and knowledge.
But this emancipation menaced the power of the followers of
Aristotle, who were still slumbering in their undisputed autho-
The Royal Society. 337
rity, enthroned in our Universities. For centuries the world
had been taught that the philosopher of Stagira had thought
on every subject : Aristotle was quoted as equal authority
with St. Paul, and his very image has been profanely looked
on with the reverence paid to Christ. Bacon had fixed a
new light in Europe, and others were kindling their torches
at his flame. When the great usurper of the human under-
standing was once fairly opposed to Nature, he betrayed too
many symptoms of mere humanity. Yet this great triumph
was not obtained without severe contention ; and upon the
Continent even blood has been shed in the cause of words.
In our country, the University of Cambridge was divided by
a party who called themselves Trojans, from their antipathy
to the Greeks, or the Aristotelians ; and once the learned
llichard Harvey, the brother of Gabriel, the friend of Spenser,
stung to madness by the predominant powers, to their utter
dismay set up their idol on the school-gates, with his heels
upwards, and ass's ears on his head. But at this later period,
when the Royal Society was established, the war was more
open, and both parties more inveterate. Now the world
seemed to think, so violent is the reaction of public opinion,
that they could reason better without Aristotle than with
him : that he had often taught them nothing more than self-
evident propositions, or had promoted that dangerous idleness
of maintaining paradoxes, by quibbles and other captious sub-
tilties. The days had closed of the " illuminated," the " pro-
found," and the " irrefragable," titles, which the scholastic
heroes had obtained ; and the Aristotelian four modes, by
which all things in nature must exist, of mater ialiter, forma-
liter, fundamentaliter, and eminenter, were now considered as
nothing more than the noisy rattles, or chains of cherry-
stones, which had too long detained us in the nursery of the
human mind.* The world had been cheated with words
* Some may be curious to have these monkish terms defined. Causes
are distinguished by Aristotle into four kinds : — The material cause, ex
qua, out of which things are made ; the formal cause, per quam, by which
a thing is that which it is, and nothing else ; the efficient cause, a qua, by
the agency of which anything is produced ; and the final cause, propter
quam, the end for which it is produced. Such are his notions in his
Phys. 1. ii. c. iii., referred to by Brucker and Formey in their Histories of
Philosophy. Of the Scholastic Metaphysics, Sprat, the historian of the
Royal Society, observes, "that the lovers of that cloudy knowledge boast
that it is an excellent instrument to refine and make subtle the minds of
men. But there may be a greater excess in the subtlety of melt's wits
Z
838 Quarrels of Authors,
instead of tilings ; and the new experimental philosophy in
sisted that men should be less loquacious, but more laborious.
Some there were, in that unsettled state of politics and
religion, in whose breasts the embers of the late Revolution
were still hot : they were panic-struck that the advocates of
popery and arbitrary power were returning on them, dis-
guised as natural philosophers. This new terror had a very
ludicrous origin : — it arose from some casual expressions, in
which the Royal Society at first delighted, and by which an
air of mystery was thrown over its secret movements : such
was that "Universal Correspondence" which it affected to
boast of; and the vaunt to foreigners of its " Ten Secretaries,"
when, in truth, all these magnificent declarations were only
objects of their wishes. Another fond but singular expres-
sion, which the illustrious Boyle had frequently applied to
it in its earliest state, when only composed of a few friends,
CciUing it "The Invisible College," all concurred to make the
than in their thickness ; as we see those threads, which are of too fine a
spinning, are found to be more useless than those which are homespun and
gross." — History of the Royal Society, p. 326.
In the history of human folly, often so closely connected with that of
human knowledge, some of the schoolmen (the commentators on Aquinas
and others) prided themselves, and were even admired for their impene-
trable obscurity ! One of them, and our countryman, is singularly com-
mended by Cardan, for that "only one of his arguments was enough to
puzzle all posterity ; and that, when he had grown old, he wept because
he could not understand his own books." Baker, in his Reflections upon
Learning, who had examined this schoolman, declares that his obscurity is
such, as if he never meant to be understood. The extrayagances of the
schoolmen are, however, not always those of Aristotle. Pope, and the
wits of that day, like these early members of the Rcyal Society, decried
Arist'-tle, who did not probably fall in the way of their studies. His
great imperfections are in natural philosophy ; but he still preserves his
eminence for his noble treatises of Ethics, and Politics, and Poetics, not-
withstanding the imperfect state in which these have reached us. Dr.
Copleston and Dr. Gillies have given an energetic testimony to their per-
petual value. Pope, in satirising the University as a nest of dunces, con-
sidered the followers of Aristotle as so many stalled oxen, "/a^ hulls of
JBasan."
" A hundred head of Aristotle's friends."
DUNCIAD.
Swift has drawn an allegorical personage of Aiistotle, by which he
describes the nature of his works. " He stooped much, and made use of
a staff ; his visage was meagre, his hair lank and thin, and his voice
hollow ;" descriptive of his abrupt conciseness, his harsh style, the obscu-
rities of his dilapidated text, and the deficiency <if feeling, which his studied
compression, his deep sagacity, and his analytical genius, so frequently
exhibit.
The Royal Society, 339
Hoyal Society wear the appearance of a conspiracy against
the political freedom of the nation. At a time, too, when,
according to the historian of the Royal Society, " almost
every family was widely disagreed among themselves on
matters of religion," they believed that this "new experi-
mental philosophy was subversive of the Christian faith!"*
and many mortally hated the newly-invented optical glasses,
the telescope and the microscope, as atheistical inventions,
which perverted our sight, and made everything appear in a
new and false light ! Sprat wrote his celebrated " History of
the Eoyal Society," to show that experimental philosophy
was neither designed for the extinction of the Universities,
nor of the Christian religion, which were really imagined to
be in danger.
Others, again, were impatient for romantic discoveries;
miracles were required, some were hinted at, while some were
promised. In the ecstas}'- of imagination, they lost their
soberness, forgetting that they were but the historians of
nature, and not her prophets. f But amid these dreams of
* Sprat makes an ingenious observation on the notion of those who de-
clai'ed that ^^the most learned ages are still the most atheistical, and the
ignorant the most devout.''' He says this had become almost proverbial, but
he shows that piety is little beholden to those who mal:e this distinction.
"The Jewish law forbids us to offer up to God a sacrifice that has a
blemish ; but these men bestow the most excellent of men on the devil,
and only assign to religion those men and those times which have the
greatest blemish of human nature, even a defect in their knowledge and
understanding." — History of the Royal Society, p. 356.
t Science, at its birth, is as much the child of imagination as curiosity ;
and, in rapture at the new instrument it has discovered, it impatiently
magnifies its power. To the infant, all improvements are wonders; it
chronicles even its dreams, and has often described what it never has seen,
delightfully deceived ; the cold insults of the cynics, the wits, the dull,
and the idle, maliciously mortify the infant in its sports, till it returns to
slow labour and patient observation. It is rather curious, however, that
when science obtains a certain state of maturity, it is liable to be attacked
by the same fits of the marvellous which affected its infancy ;— -and the
following extract from one of the enthusiastic Virtuosi in the infancy of
science, rivals the visions of "the perfectibility of man" of which we hear
so much at this late period. Some, perhaps, may consider these strong
tendencies of the imagination, breaking out at these different periods in the
history of science, to indicate results, of which the mind feels a conscious-
ness, which the philosopher shoiild neither indulge nor check.
"Should these heroes go on (the Royal Soci'ty) as they have happily
begun, they will fill the world with wonders ; and posterity will find many
things that are now but rumours, verified into practical realities. It may be,
some ages hence, a voyage to the southern unknown tracts, yea, possibly the
Moon^ will not be more strange than one to America. To them that come
z2
340 Quarrels of Authors.
hope and fancy, tlie creeping experimentalist was still left
boasting of improvements, so slow that they were not per-
ceived, and of novelties so absurd that they too often raised
the laugh against their grave and unlucky discoverers. The
philosophers themselves seemed to have been fretted into the
impatient humour which they attempted to correct ; and the
amiable Evelyn becomes an irritated satirist, when he at-
tempts to reply to the repeated question of that day, " What
have they done ?"*
But a source of the ridicule which was perpetually flowing
after us, it may be as ordinary to huy a pair of wings to fly into remotest
regions, as now a pair of hoots to ride a journey. And to confer at the
distance of the Indies, by sympathetic conveyances, may be as usual to
future times, as to us in a literary correspondence. The restoration of
grey hairs to juvenility, and renewing the exhausted marrow, may at
length be effected without a miracle ; and the turning the now comparative
desert v)orld into a paradise, may not improbably be expected from late
agriculture.
" Those that judge by the narrowness of former principles and successes,
•will smile at these paradoxical expectations. But the great inventions of
latter ages, which altered the face of all things, in their naked proposals
and mere suppositions, were to former times as ridiculous. To have talked
of a new earth to have been discovered, had been a romance to antiquity ;
and to sail without sight of stars or shores, by the guidance of a mineral,
a story more absurd than the flight of Dsedalus, That men should speak
after their tongues were ashes, or communicate with each other in dififering
hemispheres, before the invention of letters, could not but have been
thought a fiction. Antiquity would not have believed the almost incredible
force of our cannons, and would as coldly haveentei'tained the wonders of
the telescope." — Glanvill, Scepsis Scientifica, p. 133.
* Evelyn, whose elegant mind, one would have imagined, had been little
susceptible of such vehement anger, in the preface to his "Sylva," scolds
at no common rate : " Well-meaning people are led away by the noise of a
few ignorant and comical buffoons, who, with an insolence suitable to their
understanding, are still crying out. What have the Society done ?" He
attributes all the opposition and ridicule the Society encountered to a per-
sonage not usual to be introduced into a philosophical controversy — *' Tha
Enemy of Mankind." But it was well to denounce the devil himself, as
the Society had nearly lost the credit of fearing him. Evelyn insists that
*' next to the propagation of our most holy faith," that of the new philo-
sophy was desirable both for the king and the nation; "for," he adds,
"it will survive the triumphs of the proudest conquerors ; since, when all
their pomp and noise is ended, they are those little things in black, whom
now in scorn they term philosophers and fops, to whom they must be obliged
for making their names outlast the pyramids, whose founders are as un-
known as the heads of the Nile." Why Evelyn designates the philosophers
as little tilings in black, requires explanation. Did they affect a dress of
this colour in the reign of Charles II., or does he allude to the dingy
appearance of the chemists ?
The Royal Society. 341
against the Royal Society, was the almost infantine simplicity
of its earliest members, led on by their honest zeal ; and the
absence of all discernment in many trifling and ludicrous re-
searches, which called down the malice of the wits ;* there
was, too, much of that unjust contempt between the parties,
which students of opposite pursuits and tastes so liberally
bestow on each other. The researches of the Antiquarian
Society were sneered at by the Koyal, and the antiquaries
* It is not easy to credit the simplicity of these early inquirers. In a
Memorial in Sprat's History, entitled, " Answers returned by Sir Philli-
berto Vernatti to certain Inquiries sent by order of the Royal Society ;"
among some of the most extraordinary questions and descriptions of non-
entities, which must have fatigued Sir Philliberto, who then resided in
Batavia, I find the present: — " Qy. 8. What ground there may be for
that relation concerning horns taking root, and grovnvg about Goaf It
seems the question might as well have been asked at London, and answered
by some of the members themselves ; for Sir Philliberto gravely replied — -
" Inquiring about this, a friend laughed, and told me it was a jeer put
upon the Portuguese, because the women of Goa are counted none of the
chastest." Inquiries of this nature, and often the most trivial objects set
off with a singular minuteness of description, tempted the laugh of the
scoffers. Their gi-eat adversary, Stubbe, ridiculing their mode of giving
instructions for inquiries, regrets that the paper he received from them
had been lost, otherwise he would have published it. "The gi-eat Mr.
Boyle, when he brought it, tendered it with blushing and disorder," at the
simplicity of the Royal Society ! And indeed the royal founder himself,
who, if he was something of a philosopher, was much more of a wit, set
the example. The Royal Society, on the day of its creation, was the whet-
stone of the wit of their patron. When Charles II. dined with the mem-
bers on the occasion of constituting them a Royal Society, towards the close
of the evening he expressed his satisfaction in being the first English
monarch who had laid a foundation for a society who proposed that their
sole studies should be directed to the investigation of the arcana of nature ;
and added with that peculiar gravity of countenance he usually wore on
such occasions, that among such learned men he now hoped for a solution
to a question which had long perplexed him. The case he thus stated : —
*' Suppose two pails of water were fixed in two different scales that were
equally poised, and which weighed equally alike, and that two live bream,
or small fish, were put into either of these pails, he wanted to know the
reason why that pail, with such addition, should not weigh more than the
other pail which stood against it." Every one was ready to set at quiet
the royal curiosity ; but it appeared that every one was giving a different
opinion. One, at length, offered so ridiculous a solution, that another of
the members could not refrain from a loud laugh ; when the King, turning
to him, insisted that he should give his sentiments as well as the rest.
This he did without hesitation, and told his majesty, in plain terms, that
he denied the fact ! On which the King, in high mirth, exclaimed —
*' Odds fish, brother, you are in the right !" The jest was not ill designed.
The story was often useful, to cool the enthusiasm of the scientific visionary,
who is apt often to account for what never has existed.
842 Quarrels of Authors.
avenged themselves by their obstinate incredulity at the pro-
digies of the naturalists ; the student of classical literature
was equally slighted by the new philosophers ; who, leaving
the study of words and the elegancies of rhetoric for the
study merely of things, declared as the cynical ancient did of
metaphors, " Poterimus vivere sine illis" — We can do very
well vyithout them ! The ever-witty South, in his oration at
Oxford, made this poignant reflection on the Royal Society —
"Mirantur nihil nisi pulices, pediculos, et seipsos." They can
admire nothing except fleas, lice, and themselves ! And even
Hobbes so little comprehended the utility of these new pur-
suits, that he considered the Royal Society merely as so many
labourers, who, when they had washed their hands after their
work, should leave to others the polishing of their discourses.
He classed them, in the way they were proceeding, with
apothecaries, and gardeners, and mechanics, who might now
'' ail put in for, and get the prize." Even at a later period,
Sir William Temple imagined the virtuosi to be only so many
Sir Nicholas Gimcracks; and contemptuously called them,
from the place of their first meeting, " the Men of Gresham!"
doubtless considering them as wise as "the Men of Gotham!"
Even now, men of other tempers and other studies are too
apt to refuse the palm of philosophy to the patient race of
naturalists.* Wotton, who wrote so zealously at the com-
mencement of the last century in favour of modern know-
ledge, is alarmed lest the effusions of wit, in his time, should
" deaden the industry of the philosophers of the next age ;
for," he adds, "nothing wounds so effectually as a jest; and
when men once become ridiculous, their labours will be
slighted, and they will find few imitators." The alarm shows
his zeal, but not his discernment : since curiosity in hidden
causes is a passion which endures with human nature. " The
* Pope -was severe in his last book of the Dunciad on the students
of insects, flowers, &c. ; and R. 0. Cambridge followed out the idea of a
mad virtuoso in his " Scribieriad," which he has made up from the absurd
or trifling parts of natural history and philosophy. His hero is —
** A much-endui-ing man, whose curious soul
Bore him with ceaseless toil from pole to pole ;
Insatiate endless knowledge to obtain,
Thro' woes by land, thro' dangers on the main."
He collects curiosities from all parts of the world ; studies occult and
natural sciences ; and is at last beatified by electrical glories at a meeting
of hermetical philosophers. This poem is elucidated by notes, which
point the allusions to the works or doings of the old philosophex's. — Ed.
The Royal Society. 343
philosophers of the next age" have shown themselves as per-
severing as their predecessors, and the wits as malicious.
The contest between men of meditation and men of experi-
ment, is a very ancient quarrel ; and the " divine" Socrates
was no friend to, and even a ridiculer of, those very pursuits
for which the Royal Society was established.*
In founding this infant empire of knowledge, a memorable
literary war broke out between Glanvill, the author of the
treatise on "Witches," &c., and Stubbe, a physician, a man
of great genius. It is the privilege of genius that its con-
troversies enter into the history of the human mind ; what is
but temporary among the vulgar of mankind, with the curious
and the inteUigent become monuments of lasting interest.
The present contest, though the spark of contention flew out
of a private quarrel, at length blazed into a public contro-
versy.
The obscure individual who commenced the fray, is for-
gotten in the boasted achievements of his more potent ally;
he was a clergyman named Cross, the Vicar of Great Chew,
in Somersetshire, a stanch Aristotelian.
Glanvill, a member of the Eoyal Society, and an enthusiast
for the new philosophy, had kindled the anger of the peri-
* Evelyn, who could himself be a wit occasionally, was, however, much
annoyed by the scorners. He applies to these wits a passage in Nehemiah
ii. 19, which describes those who laughed at the Guilders of Jerusalem.
** These are the Sanballats, the Hoi'onites, who disturb our men upon the
wall; but let us rise up and build /''^ He describes these Horonites of
wit as •* magnificent fops, whose talents reach but to the adjusting of their
perukes." But the Royal Society was attacked from other quarters, which
ought to have assisted them. Evelyn, in his valuable treatise on forest-
trees, had inserted a new project for making cider ; and Stubbe insisted,
that in consequence "much cider had been spoiled within these three
years, by following the directions published by the commands of the Royal
Society." They afterwards announced that they never considered them-
selves as answerable for their own memoirs, which gave Stubbe occasion
to boast that he had forced them to deny what they had written. A pas-
sage in Hobbes's "Considerations upon his Reputation, &c,," is as re-
markable for the force of its style as for that of sense, and may be appli-
cable to some at this day, notwithstanding the progress of science, and the
importance attached to their busy idleness.
"Everyman that hath spare money can get furnaces, and buy coals.
Every man that hath spare money can be at the charge of making great
moulds, &c., and so may have the best and greatest telescopes. They can
get engines made, recipients made, and try conclusions ; but they are
never the more philosophers for all this. 'Tis laudable to bestow money
on curious or useful delights, but that is none of the praises of a philoso-
pher." p. 63.
344 Quarrels of Authors.
patetic, who was his neighbour, and who had the reputation
of being the invincible disputant of his county.* Some, who
had in vain contended with Glanvill, now contrived to in-
veigle the modern philosopher into an interview with this
redoubted champion.
When Glanvill entered the house, he perceived that he was
to begin an acquaintance in a quarrel, which was not the
happiest way to preserve it. The Vicar of Great Chew sat
amid his congregated admirers. The peripatetic had pro-
mised them the annihilation of the new-fashioned virtuoso,
and, like an angry boar, had already been preluding by
whetting his tusks. Scarcely had the first cold civilities
passed, when Glanvill found himself involved in single combat
with an assailant armed with the ten categories of Aristotle.
Cross, with his Quodam modo^ and his Modo quodam, with
his TJhi and his Quando, scattered the ideas of the simple
experimentalist, who, confining himself to a simple recital of
facts and a description of things, was referring, not to the
logic of Aristotle, but to the works of nature. The impe-
rative Aristotelian was wielding weapons, which, says Glanvill,
" were nothing more than like those of a cudgel-player, or
fencing-master, "t
* Glanvill was a learned man, but evidently superstitious, particularly
in all that related to witchcraft and apparitions ; the reality of both being
insisted on by him in a series of boolts which he published at various
periods of his life, and which he continually worked upon with new argu-
ments and instances, in spite of all criticism or opposition. He was a
member of the Royal Society, prebend of Worcester, and rector of Bath,
where he died, October 4, 1680. — Ed.
+ The ninth chapter in the ** Plus Ultra," entitled " The Credit of
Optic Glasses vindicated against a disputing man, who is afraid to believe
his eyes against Aristotle," gives one of the ludicrous incidents of this
philosophical visit. The disputer raised a whimsical objection against the
science of optics, insisting that the newly-invented glasses, the telescope,
the microscope, &c., were all deceitful and fallacious ; for, said the Aris-
totelian, "take two spectacles, use them at the same time, and you will
not see so well as with one singly — ergo, your microscopes and telescopes
are impostors." How this was forced into a syllogism does not appear ;
but still the conclusion ran, " We can see better through one pair than
two, therefore all perspectives are fallacious !"
One proposition for sense.
And t'other for convenience,
will make a tolerable syllogism for a logician in despair. The Aristotelian
was, however, somewhat puzzled by a problem which he had himself raised
— " Why we cannot see with two pair of spectacles better than with one
ingly V for the man of axioms observed, *' Vis unita fortior,^^ ** United
The Royal Society, 345
The last blow was still reserved, when Cross asserted that
Aristotle had more opportunities to acquire knowledge than
the Royal Society, or all the present age had, or could have,
for this definitive reason, " because Aristotle did, totam pera-
grare AsiamJ' Besides, in the Chew philosophy, where
novelty was treason, improvements or discoveries could never
exist. Here the Aristotelian made his stand ; and at length,
gently hooking Grlanvill between the horns of a dilemma, the
entrapped virtuoso threw himself into an unguarded affirma-
tion ; at which the Vicar of Great Chew, shouting in triumph,
with a sardonic grin, declared that Glanvill and his Royal
Society had now avowed themselves to be atheistical ! This
made an end of the interview, and a beginning of the quarrel.*
Glanvill addressed an expostulatory letter to the inhuman
Aristotelian, who only replied by calling it a recantation,
asserting that the affair had finished with the conviction.
On this, jGrlanvill produced his " Plus Ultra," t on the
strength is stronger^ It is curious enough, in the present day, to observe
the sturdy Aristotelian denying these discoveries, and the praises of optics,
and "the new glasses," by Glanvill. *'If this philosopher," says the
member of the Royal Society, *' had spared some of those thoughts to the
profitable doctrine of optics which he hath spent upon genus and species^
we had never heard of this objection." And he replies to the paradox
which the Aristotelian had raised by *' Why cannot he write better with
two pens than with a single one, since Vis unita fortior ? When he hath
answered this Qucere, he hath resolved his own. The reason he gave why
it should be so, is the reason why 'tis not." Such are the squabbles of
infantine science, which cannot as yet discover causes, although it has
ascertained effects.
* This appears in chap, xviii. of the "Plus Ultra." With great sim-
plicity Glanvill relates : — "At this period of the conference, the disputer
lost all patience, and with sufficient spite and rage told me ' that I was an
atheist !— that he had indeed desired my acquaintance, but would have no
more on't,' and so turned his back and went away, giving me time only to
answer that ' I had no great reason to lament the loss of an acquaintance
that could be so easily forfeited.'" The following chapter vindicates the
Royal Society from the charge of atheism ! to assure the world they were
not to be ranked " among the black conspirators against Heaven !" We
see the same objections again occurring in the modern system of geology.
+ This book was so scarce in 1757, that the writer in the "Biographia
Britannica" observes that this "small but elegant treatise is still very
much esteemed by the curious, being become so scarce as not to be met
with in other hands." Oldys, in 1738, had, in his "British Librarian,"
selected this work among the scarce and valuable books of which he has
presented us with so many useful analyses.
The history of books is often curious. At one period a book is scarce
and valuable, and at another is neither one nor the other. This does not
always depend on the caprice of the public, or what may be called literary
846 Quarrels of Authors.
modern improvements of knowledge. The quaint title referred
to that Asian argument which placed the boundaries of know-
ledge at the ancient limits fixed by Aristotle, like the pillars of
Hercules, on which was inscribed Ne plus ultra, to mark the
extremity of the world. But Glanvill asserted we might
advance still further — flus ultra I To this book the Aristo-
telian replied with such rancour, that he could not obtain a
licence for the invective either at Oxford or London. Glanvill
contrived to get some extracts, and printed a small number of
copies for his friends, under the sarcastic title of " The Chew
Gazette," — a curiosity, we are told, of literary scolding, and
which might now, among literary trinkets, fetch a Roxburgh
prize.
Cross, maddened that he couM not get his bundle of peri-
patetic ribaldries printed, wrote ballads, which he got sung as
it chanced. But suppressed invectives and eking rhymes could
but ill appease so fierce a mastiff*: he set on th^ poor F.R.S.
an animal as rabid, but more vigorous than himself — both of
them strangely prejudiced against the modern improvements
of knowledge ; so that, like mastiffs in the dark, they were
only the fiercer.
This was Dr. Henry Stubbe, a physician of Warwick — one
of those ardent and versatile characters, strangely made up
of defects as strongly marked as their excellences. He was
one of those authors who, among their numerous remains,
leave little of permanent value; for their busy spirits too
keenly delight in temporary controversy, and they waste the
efforts of a mind on their own age, which else had made the
next their own. Careless of worldly opinions, these extraor-
dinary men, with the simplicity of children, are mere beings of
sensation ; perpetually precipitated by their feelings, with
slight powers of reflection, and just as sincere when they act
in contradiction to themselves, as when they act in contradic-
tion to others. In their moral habits, therefore, we are often
struck with strange contrasts ; their whole life is a jumble of
actions ; and we are apt to condemn their versatility of prin-
ciples as arising from dishonest motives; yet their temper
has often proved more generous, and their integrity purer,
than those who have crept up in one unvarying progress to an
eminence which they quietly possess, without any of the
fashions. Glanvill's "Plus Ultra" is probably now of easy occurrence ;
like a propbecy fully completed, the uncertain event being verified, the
prophet has ceased to be remembered.
The Royal Society. ZV7
ardour of these original, perhaps whimsical, minds. The most
tremendous menace to a man of this class would be to threaten
to write the history of his life and opinions. When Stubbe
attacked the Eoyal Society, this threat was held out against
him. But menaces never startled his intrepid genius ; he roved
in all his wild greatness; and, always occupied more by present
views than interested by the past events of his life, he cared
little for his consistency in the high spirit of his independence.
The extraordinary character of Stubbe produced as uncom-
mon a history. Stubbe had originally been a child of fortune,
picked up at Westminster school by Sir Henry Vane the
younger, who sent him to Oxford ; where this effervescent
genius was, says Wood, "kicked, and beaten, and whipped."*
But if these little circumstances marked the irritability and
boldness of his youth, it was equally distinguished by an
entire devotion to his studies. Perhaps one of the most
anomalous of human characters was that of his patron, Sir
Henry Vane the younger (whom Milton has immortahsed in
one of the noblest of sonnets), the head of the Independents,
who combined with the darkest spirit of fanaticism the clear
views of the most sagacious politician. The gratitude of
Stubbe lasted through all the changeful fortunes of the chief
of a faction — a long date in the records of human affection !
Stubbe had written against monarchy, the church, the univer-
sity, &c. ; for which, after the Eestoration, he was accused by
* His early history is given by Wood in his nsual style. His father had
been a Lincolnshire parson, who was obliged to leave his poor curacy be-
cause " anabaptistically inclined," and fled to Ireland, whence his mother
and her children were obliged to return on the breaking out of the rebellion
of 1641, and landed at Liverpool ; afterward, says Wood, " they all heated
it on the hoof thence to London, where she, gaining a comfortable sub-
sistence by her needle, sent her son Henry, being then ten years of age, to
the collegiate school at Westminster. At that time Mr. Richard Busbie was
the chief master, who finding the boy have pregnant parts to a miracle, did
much favour and encourage him. At length Sir Henry Vane, junior (the same
who was beheaded on Tower Hill, 1662), coming casually into the school
with Dr. Lambert Osbaldiston, he did, at the master's motion, take a kind-
ness to the said boy, and gave him the liberty to resort to his house, and
to fill that belly which otherwise had no sustenance but what one penny
could purchase for his dinner : and as for his breakfast, he had none, except
he got it by making somebody's exercise. Soon after. Sir Henry got him
to be a king's scholar ; and his master perceiving him to be beyond his
years in proficiency, he gave him money to buy books, clothes, and his
teaching for nothing." Such was the humble beginning of a learned man,
who lived to be a formidable opponent to the whole body of the Royal
Society. — Ed.
348 Quarrels of Authors.
his antagonists. He exults in the reproach ; he replies with
all that frankness of simplicity, so beautiful amid our artificial
manners. He denies not the charge ; he never trims, nor
glosses over, nor would veil, a single part of his conduct. He
wrote to serve his patrons, but never himself. I preserve the
whole of this noble passage in the note.* Wood bears witness
* When Sprat and Glanvill, and others, had threatened to write his life,
Stubbe draws this apology for it, while he shows how much, in a time of
revolutions, the Royal Society might want one for themselves.
*' I was so far from being daunted at those rumours and threats, that I
enlarged much this book thei-eupon, and resolved to charge the enemy
home when I saw how weak a resistance I should meet with, I knew
that recriminations w^ere no answers. I understood well that the passages
of a life like mine, spent in different places with much privacy and ob-
scurity, was unknown to them ; that even those actions they would fix their
greatest calumnies upon, were such as that they understood not the grounds,
nor had they learning enough and skill to condemn. I was at Westminster
School when the late king was beheaded. I never took covenant nor engage-
ment. In sum, / served my patron. I endeavoured to express my grati-
tude to him who had relieved me, being a child^ and in great poverty (the
rebellion in Ireland having deprived my parents of all means wherewith to
educate me) ; who made me a king's scholar ; preferred me to Christchurch
College, Oxon. ; and who often supplied me with money when my tender
years gave him little hopes of any return ; and who protected rae amidst
the Presbyterians y and Independents, and other sects. With none thei-eof
did I contract any relation or acquaintance ; my familiarity never engaged
me with ten of that party; and my genius and humour inclined me to
fewer. I neither enriched, nor otherwise advanced myself, during the late
troubles ; and shared the common odium and dangers, not prosperity,
with my benefactor. I believe no generous man, who hath the least sense
of bravery, will condemn me ; and I profess I am ashamed rather to have
done so little, than that I have done so much, for him that so frankly
obliged a stranger and a child. When Gracchus was put to death for
sedition, that faithful friend and accomplice of his was dismissed, and
mentioned with honour by all posterity, who, when he was impeached,
justified his treason by the avowing a friendship so great that, whatever
Gracchus had commanded him, he would not have declined it. And being
further questioned, whether he would have burned the capitol at his
bidding ? he replied again, that he should have done it ; but Gracchus
would not bid such a thing. They that knew me heretofore, know I have
a thousand times thus apologised for myself ; adding, that in vassals and
slaves, and persons transcendently obliged, their fidelity exempted them
from all ignominy, though the principal lords, masters, oixd. patrons, might
be accounted traitors. My youth and other circumstances incapacitated
me from rendering him any great services ; but all that I did, and all that
J writ, had no other aim than his interest ; nor do I care how much any man
can inodiate my former writings, as long as they were subservient to him.
*' Having made this declaration, let them (or more able men than they)
write the life of a man who hath some virtues of the most celebrated times,
and hath preserved himself free from the vices of these. My reply shall
be a scornful silence." — Preface to Stubbe's " Legends no Histories," 1670.
The Royal Society. 349
to his perfect disinterestedness. He never partook of the
prosperity of his patron, nor mixed with any parties, loving
the retirement of his private studies ; and if he scorned and
hated one party, the Presbyterians, it was, says Wood, because
his high generous nature detested men " void of generous
souls, sneaking, snivelling, &e." Stubbe appears to have car-
ried this philosophical indifference towards objects of a higher
interest than those of mere profit ; for, at the Restoration, he
found no difficulty in conforming to the Church* and to the
Government. The king bestowed on him the title of his
physician ; yet, for the sake of making philosophical experi-
ments, Stubbe went to Jamaica, and intended to have pro-
ceeded to Mexico and Peru, pursuing his profession, but still
an adventurer. At length Stubbe returned home ; established
himself as a physician at Warwick, where, though he died
early, he left a name celebrated. t The fertility of his pen
appears in a great number of philosophical, political, and
medical publications. But all his great learning, the facility
of his genius, his poignant wit, his high professional character,
his lofty independence, his scorn of practising the little mys-
terious arts of life, availed nothing ; for while he was making
himself popular among his auditors, he was eagerly depre-
ciated by those who would not willingly allow naerit to a man
who owned no master, and who feared no rival.
Literary coteries were then held at coffee-houses -,% and
there presided the voluble Stubbe, with " a big and magiste-
rial voice, while his mind was equal to it," says the charac-
terising Wood ; but his attenuated frame seemed too delicate
* His reasons for conformity on these important objects are given with
his usual simplicity. *' I Lave at length removed all the umbrages I ever
lay under. 1 have joined myself to the Church of England, not only upon
account of its being publicly imposed (which in things indifferent is no
small consideration, as I learned from the Scottish transactions at Perth),
but because it is the least defining^ and consequently the most comprehen-
sive and fitting to be national.^'
f He died at Bath in 1676, where he had gone in attendance upon
several of his patients from the neighbourhood of Warwick, where he for
a long time practised as a physician. His old antagonist Glanvill was at
that time rector of the Abbey Church in which he was buried, and so be-
came the preacher of his funeral sermon. Wood says he *' said no great
matter of him." — Ed.
J Pope said to Spence, "It was Dryden who made Will's coffee-house
the great resort for the wits of his time. After his death Addison trans-
ferred it to Button's, who had been a servant of his." Will's coffee-house
was at the corner of Bow-street, Covent-garden, and Button's close by ia
Itussell-street. — Ed.
350 Quarrels of Authors,
to hold long so unbroken a spirit. It was an accident, how-
ever, which closed this life of toil and hurry and petulent
genius. Going to a patient at night, Stubbe was drowned in
a very shallow river, " his head (adds our cynic, who had
generously paid the tribute of his just admiration with his
strong peculiarity of style) being then intoxicated with bib-
bing, but more with talking and snuffing of powder."
Such was the adversary of the Royal Society ! It is quite
in character that, under the government of Cromwell, he
himself should have spread a taste for what was then called
" The New Philosophy " among our youth and n^entlemen,
with the view of rendering the clergy contemptible ; or, as he
says, " to make them appear egregious fools in matters of
common discourse." He had always a motive for his actions,
however opposite they were ; pretending that he was never
moved by caprice, but guided by principle. One of his adver-
saries, however, has reason to say, that judging him by his
" printed papers, he was a man of excellent contradictory
parts." After the Eestoration, he furnished as odd, but as
forcible a reason, for opposing the Roj^al Society. At that
time the nation, recent from republican ardours, was often
panic-struck by papistical conspiracies, and projects of arbi-
trary power ; and it was on this principle that he took part
against the Society. Influenced by Dr. Fell and others, he
suffered them to infuse these extravagant opinions into his
mind. No private ends appear to have influenced his change-
able conduct ; and in the present instance he was sacrificing
his personal feelings to his public principles ; for Stubbe was
then in the most friendly correspondence with the illustrious
Boyle, the father of the Royal Society, who admired the
ardour of Stubbe, till he found its inconvenience.*
* *' Some years afier the king's restoration he took pet against the
Royal Society, (for which before he had a great veneration,) and being en-
couraged by Dr. Jo. Fell, no admirer of that society, became in his writings
an inveterate enemy against it for several pretended reasons : among which
were, first, that the members thereof intended to bring a contempt upon
ancient and solid learning, upon Aristotle, to undermine the universities,
and reduce them to nothing, or at least to be very inconsiderable. Se-
condly, that at long running to destroy the established religion, and involve
the nation in popery, and I know not what, &c. So dexterous was his
pen, whether pro or con, that few or none could equal, answer, or come
near him. He was a person of most admirable parts, had a most pro-
digious memory, though his enemies would not acknowledge it, but said he
read indexes ; was the most noted Latiuist and Grecian of his age ; and
after he had been put upon it, was so great an enemy to the virtmd of his
The Royal Society, 351
Stubbe opened his formidable attacks, for they form a
series, by replying to the "Plus Ultra" of Glanvill, with a
title as quaint, " The Plus Ultra reduced to a Non-plus, in
animadversions on Mr. Glanvill and the Virtuosi." For a
pretence for this violent attack, he strained a passage in
Glanvill ; insisting that the honour of the whole faculty of
which he was a member was deeply concerned to refute
Glanvill's assertion, that " the ancient physicians could not
cure a cut finger." — This Glanvill denied he had ever affirmed
or thought ; * but war once resolved on, a pretext as slight as
the present serves the purpose ; and so that an odium be raised
against the enemy, the end is obtained before the injustice is
acknowledged. This is indeed the history of other wars than
those of words. The present was protracted with an hostility
unsubduing and unsubdued. At length the malicious in-
genuity, or the heated fancy, of Stubbe, hardly sketched a
political conspiracy, accusing the E,otal Society of having
adopted the monstrous projects of Campanella ; — an
anomalous genius, who was confined by the Inquisition the
greater part of his life, and who, among some political reveries,
projected the establishment of a universal empire, though he
was for shaking off the yoke of authority in the philosophical
world. He was for one government and one rehgion through-
time, I mean those of the Royal Society, that, as he saith, they alarmed him
with dangers and troubles even to the hazard of his life and fortunes." —
Wood.
* The aspersed passage in Glanvill is this : " The philosophers of elder
times, though their wits were excellent, yet the way they took was not
like to bring much advantage to knowledge, or any of the uses of human
life, being, for the most part, that of Notion and Dispute, which still runs
round in a labyrinth of talk, but advanceth nothing. These methods, in so
many centuries, never brought the toorld so much practical beneficial
knowledge as could help towards the cure of a cut finger/^ Pius Ultra,
p. 7. — Stubbe, with all the malice of a wit, drew his inference, and
turned the point unfairly against his adversary !
I shall here observe how much some have to answer, in a literary court
of conscience, when they unfairly depreciate the works of a contempo-
rary ; and how idly the literary historian performs his task, whenever he
adopts the character of a writer from another who is his adversary. This
may be particularly shown in the present instance.
MoRHOFP, in his Polyhistor Litteraria, censures the Plus Ultra of
Glanvill, conceiving that he had treated with contempt all ages and nations
but his own. The German bibliographer had never seen the book, but took
its character from Stubbe and Meric Casaubon. The design of the Pkts
Ultra, however, differs little from the other works of Glanvill, which
Morhoff had seen, and has highly commended.
352 Quarrels of Authors.
out Europe, but in other respects he desired to leave the
minds of men quite free. Campanella was one of the neW
lights of the age ; and his hardy, though wild genius much
more resembled our Stubbe, who denounced his extrava-
gancies, than any of the Eoyal Society, to whom he was so
artfully compared.
This tremendous attack appeared in Stubbe's " Campanella
Revived, or an Enquiry into the History of the Eoyal Society ;
w^hether the Virtuosi there do not pursue the projects of
Campanella, for reducing England into Popery ; relating the
quarrel betwixt H. S. and the R. S., «fcc. 1670."*
* The political reverie of Campanella was even suspected to cover very
opposite designs to those he seemed to be proposing to the world. He at-
tempted to turn men's minds from all inquiries into politics and religion, to
mere philosophical ones. He wished that the passions of mankind might
be so directed, as to spend their force in philosophical discussions, and in
improvements in science. He therefore insisted on a uniformity on those
great subjects which have so long agitated modern Europe ; for the an-
cients seem to have had no wars merely for religion, and perhaps none for
modes of government. One may discover an enlightened principle in the
project ; but the character of Campanella was a jumble of sense, subtlety,
and wildness. He probably masked his real intentions. He appears an
advocate for the firm establishment of the papal despotism ; yet he aims to
give an enlightened principle to regulate the actions of mankind. The in-
tentions of a visionary are difficult to define. If he were really an advo-
cate for despotism, what occasioned an imprisonment for the greater part of
his days ? Did he lay his project much deeper than the surface of things ?
Did Campanella imagine that, if men were allowed to philosophise with
the utmost freedom, the despotism of religion and politics would dissolve
away in the weakness of its quiescent state ?
The project is a chimera — but, according to the projector, the political
and religious freedom of England formed its greatest obstacle. Part of
his plan, therefore, includes the means of weakening the Insular heretics
by intestine divisions — a mode not seldom practised by the continental
powers of France and Spain.
The political project of this fervid genius was, that his ** Prince," the
Spanish king, should be the mightiest sovereign in Europe. For this, he
was first to prohibit all theological controversies from the Transalpine
schools, those of Germany, &c. "A controversy," he observes, ''always
shows a kind of victory, and may serve as an authority to a bad cause."
He would therefore admit of no commentaries on the Bible, to prevent all
diversity of opinion. He would have revived the ancient philosophical
sects, instead of the modern religious sects.
The Greek and the Hebrew languages were not to be taught ! for the
republican freedom of the ancient Jews and Grecians had often proved de-
structive of monarchy. Hobbes, in the bold scheme of his Leviathan^
seems to have been aware of this fatality. Campanella would substitute
for these ancient languages the study of the Arabic tongue ! The trou-
blesome Transalpine wits might then employ themselves in confuting the
The Royal Society, 353
Such was the dread which his reiterated attacks caused the
Royal Society, that they employed against him all the petty
persecutions of power and mtrigue. "Thirty legions," says
Stubbe, alluding to the famous reply of the philosopher, who
Turks, rather than in vexing the Catholics ; so closely did sagacity and
extravagance associate in the mind of this wild genius. But Mathema-
tical and Astronomical schools, and other institutions for the encourage-
ment of the mechanical arts, and particularly those to which the northern
genius is most apt, as navigation, &c., were to occupy the studies of the
people, divert them from exciting fresh troubles, and withdraw them from
theological factions. Campanella thus would make men great in science,
having first made them slaves in politics ; a philosophical people were to
be the subjects of despots — not an impossible event !
His plan, remarkable enough, of weakening the English, I give in his
words : — "No better way can possibly be found than by causing divisions
and dissensions among them, and by continually keeping up the same ;
■which will furnish the Spaniard and the French with advantageous op-
portunities. As for their religion, which is a moderated Calvinism, that
cannot be so easily extinguished and rooted out there, unless there were
some schools set up in Flanders, where the English have great commerce,
by means of which there may be scattered abroad the seeds of schism and
division. These people being of a nature which is still desirous of novel-
ties and change, they are easily wrought over to anything." These schools
were tried at Douay in Flanders, and at Valladolid in Spain, and other
places. They became nests of rebellion for the English Catholics ; or for
any one, who, being discontented with government, was easily converted to
any religion which aimed to overturn the British Constitution. The secret
history of the Roman Catholics in England remains yet to be told : they
indeed had their martyrs and their heroes ; but the x>ublic effects appear in
the frequent executions which occurred in the reigns of Elizabeth and
James.
Stubbe appears to have imagined that the Eotal Society was really
formed on the principle of Campanella ; to withdraw the people from in-
termeddling with politics and religion, by engaging them merely in philo-
sophical pursuits. — The reaction of the public mind is an object not always
sufficiently indicated by historians. The vile hypocrisy and mutual perse-
cutions of the numerous fanatics occasioned very relaxed and tolerant
principles of religion at the Restoration ; as, the democratic fury having
spent itself, too great an indulgence was now allowed to monarchy.
Stubbe was alarmed that, should Popery be established, the crown of
England would become feudatory to foreign power, and embroil the nation
in the restitution of all the abbey lands, of which, at the Reformation, the
Church had so zealously been plundered. He was still further alarmed
that the virtuosi would influence the education of our youth to these pur-
poses ; "an evil," says he, "which has been guarded against by our an-
cestors in founding free-schools, by uniformity of instruction cementing
men's minds." "We now smile at these terrors ; perhaps they were some-
times real. The absolute necessity of strict conformity to the prevalent
religion of Europe was avowed in that unrivalled scheme of despotism,
■which menaced to efface every trace of popular freedom, and the inde-
pendence of nations, under the dominion of Napoleon.
A A
354 Quarrels of Authors,
would not dispute witli a crowned head, " were to be called to
aid 3'ou against a young country physician, who had so long
discontinued studies of this nature," However, he announces
that he has finished three more works against the Royal
Society, and has a fourth nearly ready, if it be necessary to
prove that the rhetorical history of the Society by Sprat
must be bad, because " no eloquence can be complete if the
subject-matter be foolish !" His adversaries not only
threatened to write his life,* but they represented him to the
king as a libeller, who ought to be whipped at a cart's tail ; a
circumstance which Stubbe records with the indignation of a
Eoraan spirit.f They stopped his work several times, and by
some stratagem they hindered him from correcting the press ;
but nothing could impede the career of his fearless genius.
* To this threat of writing his life, we have already noticed the noble
apology he has drawn up for the versatility of his opinions. See p, 347.
At the moment of the Restoration it was unwise for any of the parties to
reproach another for their opinions or their actions. In a national revolu-
tion, most men are implicated in the general reproach ; and Stubbe said, on
this occasion, that "he had observed worse faces in the society than his
own." Waller, and Sprat, and Cowley had equally commemorated the
protectorship of Cromwell and the restoration of Charles, Our satirist
insidiously congratulates himself that "^e had never compared Oliver the
regicide to Moses, or his son to Joshua ;" nor that he had ever written any
Pindaric ode, "dedicated to the happy memory of the most renowned
Prince Oliver, Lord Protector :" nothing to recommend " the sacred urn"
of that blessed spirit to the veneration of posterity ; as if
* ' His fame, like men, the elder it doth grow,
Will of itself turn vjhiter too.
Without what needless art can do,"
These lines were, I think, taken from Sprat himself ! Stubbe adds, it
would be " imprudent in them to look beyond the act of indemnity and
oblivion, which was more necessary to the Royal Society than to me, who
joined with no party, &c," — Preface to " Legends no Histories.'''
t He has described this intercourse of his enemies at court with the
king, where, when this punishment was suggested, " a generous person-
age, altogether unknown to me, being present, bravely and frankly inter-
posed, saying, that ' whatever I was, I was a Roman ; that Englishmen
were not so precipitously to be condemned to so exemplary a punishment ;
that representing that book to be a libel against the king was too remote a
consequence to be admitted of in a nation free-born, and governed by laws,
and tender of ill precedents,' " It was a noble speech, in the relaxed
politics of the court of Charles II, He who made it deserved to have had
his name mt)re explicitly told : he is designated as "that excellent Eng-
lishman, the great ornament of this age, nation, and House of Commons ;
he whose single worth balanceth much of the debauchei'ies, follies, and
impertinences of the kingdom." — A Eeply unto the Letter written to Mr,
Henry Stubbe, Oxford, 1671, p. 20.
The Royal Society, 355
He treated with infinite ridicule their trivial or their mar-
vellous discoveries in his " Legends no Histories," and his
" Censure on some Passages of the History of the Royal
Society." But while he ridiculed, he could instruct them ;
often contributing new knowledge, which the Royal Society
had certainly been proud to have registered in their history.
In his determination of depreciating the novelties of his day,
he disputes even the honour of Harvey to the discovery of
the circulation of the blood : he attributes it to Akdreas
CiESALPiNUS, who not only discovered it, but had given it the
name of Circulatio Sanguinis*
Stubbe was not only himself a man of science, but a caustic
satirist, who blends much pleasantry with his bitterness. In
* Stubbe gives some curious information on this subject. Harvey pub-
lished his Treatise at Frankfort, 1628, but Csesalpinus's work bad ap-
peared in 1593. Harvey adopted the notion, and more fully and perspi-
cuously proved it. I shall give what Stubbe says. " Harvey, in his two
Answers to Riolan, nowhere asserts the invention so to himself, as to deny
that he had the intimation or notion from Csesalpinus ; and his silence I
take for a tacit confession. His ambition of glory made him vnlling to he
thought the author of a paradox he had so illustrated, and brought upon
the stage, where it lay unregarded^ and in all probability buried in obli-
vion ; yet such was his modesty, as not to vindicate it to himself by tell-
ing a lie." — Stubbe's Censure, &c., p. 112.
I give this literary anecdote, as it enters into the history of most dis-
coveries, of which the improvers, rather than the inventors, are usually
the most known to the world. Bayle, who wrote much later than Stubbe,
asserts the same, and has preserved the entire passage, art. Casalpinus.
It is said Harvey is more expressly indebted to a passage in Servetus,
which Wotton has given in the preface to his ' ' Reflections on Ancient and
Modern Learning," edition 1725. The notion was probably then afloat,
and each alike contributed to its development. Thus it was disputed with
Copernicus, whether his great discovery of a fixed sun, and the earth
"wheeling round that star, was his own ; others had certainly observed it ;
yet the invention was still Copernican : for that great genius alone cor-
rected, extended, and gave perfection to a hint, till it expanded to a
system. ■ -
So gradual have often been the great inventions of genius. What others
conjectured, dMdt. some discovered, Harvey demonstrated. The fate of
Harvey's discovery is a curious instance of that patience and fortitude
which genius must too often exert in respect to itself. Though Hai'vey
lived to his eightieth year, he hardly witnessed his great discovery esta-
blished before he died ; and it has been said, that he was the only one of
his contemporaries who lived to see it in some repute. No physician
adopted it ; and when it got into vogue, they then- disputed whether he
was the inventor ! Sir William Temple denied not only the discovery, but
the doctrine of the Circulation of the Blood. "Sense can hardly allow
it ; which," says he, '* in this dispute must be satisfied as well as reason,
before mankind will concur,"
A a2
856 Quarrels of Authors.
the first ardour of philosophical discovery, the Society, de-
lighted by the acquisition of new facts, which, however, rarely
proved to be important, and were often ludicrous in their
detail, appear to have too much neglected the arts of reason-
ing ; they did not even practise common discernment, or
what we might term philosophy in its more enlarged sense.*
Stubbe, with no respect for " a Society," though dignified by
the addition of " Royal," says, " a cabinet of virtuosi are but
pitiful reasoners. Ignorance is infectious ; and 'tis possible
for men to grow fools by contact. I will speak to the virtuosi
in the language of the Romish Saint Francis (who, in the wil-
derness, so humbly addressed his only friends,) ' Salvete,
fr aires asini ! Salvete, fr aires lupi /' " As for their Trans-
actions and their History, he thinks " they purpose to grow
famous, as the Turks do to gain Paradise, hy treasuring up
all the waste paper they meet with^ He rallies them on
some ridiculous attempts, such as " An Art of Flying ;" an art,
says Stubbe, in which they have not so much as effected the
most facile part of the attempt, which is to break their necks !
Sprat, in his dedication to the king, had said that " the
establishment of the Royal Society was an enterprise equal
to the most renowned actions of the best princes." One
would imagine that the notion of a monarch founding a
society for the cultivation of the sciences could hardly be
* Stubbe has an eloquent passage, which describes the philosophy of
fjcieuce. The new Experimental School had perhaps too wholly rejected
some virtues of the old one ; the cultivation of the human understandiug,
as well as the mere observation on the facts that they collected ; an error
which has not been entirely removed.
' ' That art of reasoning by which the prudent are discriminated from
fools, which methodiseth and facilitates our discourses, which informs us
of the validity of consequences and the probability of arguments, and mani-
fests the fallacies of impostors ; that art which gives life to solid eloquence,
and which renders Statesmen, Divines, Physicians, and Lawyers accom-
plished ; how is this cried down and vilified by the ignoramuses of these
days ! What contempt is there raised upon the disputative Ethics of Aris-
totle and the Stoics ; and those moral instructions, which have produced
the Alexanders and the Ptolemies, the Pompeys and the Ciceroes, are now
slighted in comparison of d ay -labouring ! Did we live at Sparta, where
the daily employments were the exercises of substantial virtue and gal-
lantry, and men, like setting dogs, were rather bred up unto, than taught
reason and worth, it were a more tolei-able proposal (though the different
policy of these times would not admit of it) ; but this working, so recom-
mended, is but the feeding of carp in the air, &c. As for the study of
Politics, and all critical learning, these are either pedantical, or tedious,
to those who have a shorter way of studying men.'''' — Preface to *^ Legend*
no Histories."
The Royal Society. 357
made objectionable ; but, in literary controversy, genius has
the power of wresting all things to its purpose by its own
peculiar force, and the art of placing every object in the light
it chooses, and can thus obtain our attention in spite of our
conviction. I will add the curious animadversion of Stubbe
on Sprat's compliment to the king: —
" Never Prince acquired the fame of great and good by
any knickknacks — but by actions of political wisdom, cou-
rage, justice," &c.
Stubbe shows how Dionysius and KTero had been depraved
by these meclianic philosophers — that
" An Aristotelian would never pardon himself if he com-
pared this heroical enterprise with the actions of our Black
Prince or Henry Y.; or with Henry VIII. in demolishing
abbeys and rejecting the papal authority ; or Queen Eliza-
beth's exploits against Spain ; or her restoring the Protestant
religion, putting the Bible into English, and supporting the
Protestants beyond sea. But the reason he (Sprat) gives
why the establishment of the Royal Society of experimen-
tators equals the most renowned actions of the best princes,
is such a pitiful one as Guzman de Alfarache never met with
in the whole extent of the Hospital of Fools — ' To increase
the power, by new arts, of conquered nations !' These con-
sequences are twisted like the cordage of Ocnus, the God of
Sloth, in hell, which are fit for nothing but to fodder asses
with. If our historian means by every little invention to ifi'
crease the powers of mankind, as an enterprise of such
renown, he is deceived ; this glory is not due to such as go
about with a dog and a hoop, nor to the practicers of leger-
demain, or upon the high or low rope ; not to every mounte-
bank and his man Andrew ; all which, with many other
mechanical and experimental philosophers, do in some sort
increase the powers of mankind, and differ no more from some
of the virtuosi, than a cat in a hole doth from a cat out of a
hole; betwixt which that inquisitive person Asdr^asdust
TossorFACAN found avery great resemblance. 'Tis not the in-
creasing of i\iQ powers of mankind by a pendulum watch, nor
spectacles whereby divers may see under water, nor the new
ingenuity of apple-roasters, nor every petty discovery or in-
strument, must be put in comparison, much less preferred,
before i\iQ protection and enlargement of empires r*
* ** Legends no Histories," p. 5.
358 Quarrels of Authors.
Had Stubbe's death not occurred, this warfare had probably
continued. He insisted on a complete victory. He had forced
the Royal Society to disclaim their own works, by an an-
nouncement that they were not answerable, as a body, for the
various contributions which they gave the world : an adver-
tisement which has been more than once found necessary to
be renewed. As for their historian Sprat, our intrepid Stubbe
very unexpectedly offered to manifest to the parliament that
this courtly adulator, by his book, was chargeable with high
treason ; if they believed tbat the Royal Society were really
engaged so deeply as he averred in the portentous Csesarean
Popery of Campanella. GlanviU, who had " insulted all
university learning," had been immolated at the pedestal of
Aristotle. " I have done enough," he adds, " since my anim-
adversions contain more than they all knew ; and that these
have shown that the virtuosi are very great impostors, or
men of little reading;" alluding to the various discoveries
which they promulgated as novelties, but which Stubbe
had asserted were known to the ancients and others of a
later period. This forms a perpetual accusation against the
inventors and discoverers, who may often exclaim, " Perish
those who have done our good works before us !" " The Dis-
coveries of the Ancients and Moderns" by Dutens, had this
book been then published, might have assisted our keen inves-
tigator ; but our combatant ever proudly met his adversaries
single-handed.
The " Philosophical Transactions" were afterwards accused
of another kind of high treason, against grammar and com-
mon sense. It was long before the collectors of facts prac-
tised the art of writing on them ; still later before they could
philosophise, as well as observe : Bacon and Boyle were at
first only imitated in their patient industry. When Sir
Hans Sloaise was the secretary of the Royal Society, he,
and most of his correspondents, wrote in the most confused
manner imaginable. A wit of a very original cast, the face-
tious Dr. King,* took advantage of their perplexed and often
* Dr. King was allied to the families of Clarendon and Eocliester ; lie
took a degree as Doctor of Civil Law, and soon got into great practice.
*' He afterwards went with the Earl of Pembioke, Lord-Lieutenant, to
Ireland, where he became Judge Advocate, Sole Commissioner of the Prizes,
Keeper of the Records, Vicar-General to the Lord Primate of Ireland ; was
countenanced by persons of tlie highest rank, and might have made a
fortune. But so far was he from heaping up riches, that he returned to
England with no other treasure than a few meriy poems and humoroua
The Royal Society. 359
unintelligible descriptions; of the meanness of their style,
which humbled even the great objects of nature; of their
credulity that heaped up marvels, and their vanity that
prided itself on petty discoveries, and invented a new species
of satire. Sloane, a name endeared to posterity, whose life
was that of an enthusiast of science, and who was the founder
of a national collection ; and his numerous friends, many of
whose names have descended with the regard due to the
votaries of knowledge, fell the victims. Wit is an unsparing
leveller.
The new species of literary burlesque which King seems to
have invented, consists in selecting the very expressions and
absurd passages from the original he ridiculed, and framing
out of tliem a droll dialogue or a grotesque narrative, he
adroitly inserted his own remarks, replete with the keenest
irony, or the driest sarcasm.* Our arch wag says, " The
bulls and blunders which Sloane and his friends so naturally
essays, and returned to his student's place in Christ Church." — Enc.
Brit. He was assisted by Bolingbroke ; but when his patronage failed,
Swift procured him the situation of editor to "Barber's Gazette." He
ultimately took to drinking; Lin tot the bookseller, told Pope, "Ire-
member Dr. King could write verses in a tavern three hours after he could
not speak." His last patron was Lord Clarendon, and he died in apart-
ments he had provided for him in London, Dec. 25, 1712, and was buried
in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey at the expense of his lordship. — Ed.
* Sloane describes Clark, the famous posture-master, '*Phil. Trans." No.
242, certainly with the wildest grammar, but with many curious parti-
culars ; the gentleman in one of Dr. King's Dialogues inquires the secre-
tary's opinion of the causes of this man's wonderful pliability of limbs ; a
question which Sloane had thus solved, with colloquial ease : it depended
upon " bringing the body to it, by using himself to it."
In giving an account of " a child born without a brain" — '* Had it lived
long enough," said King, "it would have made an excellent publisher of
Philosophical Transactions !"
Sloane presented the Royal Society with *'a figure of a Chinese, repre-
senting one of that nation using an ear-picker, and expressing great satis-
faction tlierein." — "Whatever pleasure," said that learned physicitm,
*'the Chinese may take in thus picking their ears, I am certain most
people in these parts, who have had their hearing impaired, have had such
misfortune first come to them by picking their ears too much." — He is so
curious^ says King, that the secretary took as much satisfaction in looking
upon the ear-picker, as the Chinese could do in picking their ears !
But "What drowning is" — that "Hanging is only apoplexy !" that
*' Men cannot swallow when they are dead !" that "No fish die of fevers !"
that "Hogs s — t soap, and cows s — t fire!" that the secretary had
** Shells, called Blackmoor' s-teeth, I suppose from their whiteness f and
the learned Ray's, that grave naturalist, incredible description of "a very
curious little instrument !" I leave to the reader and Dr. Kang.
360 Quarrels of Authors.
pour forth cannot be misrepresented, so careful I am in pro-
ducing them." King still moves the risible muscles of his
readers. "The Voyage to Cajamai," a travestie of Sloane's
valuable " History of Jamaica," is still a peculiar piece of
humour; and it has been rightly distinguished as "one
of the severest and merriest satires that was ever written in
prose."* The author might indeed have blushed at the
labour bestowed on these drolleries ; he might have dreaded
that humour so voluminous might grow tedious ; but King,
often with a Lucianic spirit, with flashes of Rabelais, and
not seldom with the causticity of his friend Swift, dissipated
life in literary idleness, with parodies and travesties on most
•of his contemporaries ; and he made these little things often
more exquisite at the cost of consuming on them a genius
capable of better. A parodist or a burlesquer is a wit who
is perpetually on the watch to catch up or to disguise an
author's words, to swell out his defects, and pick up his blun-
ders — to amuse the public ! King was a wit, who lived on
the highway of literature, appropriating, for his own purpose,
the property' of the most eminent passengers, by a dextrous
mode no other had hit on. What an important lesson the
labours of King offer to real genius ! Their temporary hu-
mour lost with their prototypes becomes like a paralytic
limb, which, refusing to do its office, impedes the action of
the vital members.
WoTTON, in summing up his " Reflections upon Ancient
and Modern Learning," was doubtful whether knowledge
would improve in the next age proportionably as it had done
in his own. " The humour of the age is visibly altered," he
says, " from what it had been thirty years ago. Though the
* Sir Hans Sloane was unhappily not insensible to these ludicrous
assaults, and in the preface to his "History of Jamaica," 1707, a work
so highly prized for its botanical researches, absolutely anticipated this
fatal facetiousness, for thus he delivers himself: — "Those who strive to
make ridiculous anything of this kind, and think themselves great wits,
but are very ignorant, and understand nothing of the argument, these, if one
were afraid of them, and consulted his own ease, might possibly hinder
the publication of any such work, the efforts to be expected from them,
making possibly some impression upon persons of equal dispositions ; but
considering that I have the approbation of others, whose judgment, know-
ledge, &c., I have great reason to value; and considering that these sorts
of men have been in all ages ready to do the like, not only to ordinary
persons and their equals, but even to abuse their prince and blaspheme
their Maker, I shall, as I have ever since I seriously considered this
matter, think of and treat them with the greatest contempt.'*
The Royal Society. 361
Royal Society has weathered the rude attacks of Stubbe," yet
"the sly hisinuations of the Men of JVit,'' with '^ the public
ridiculing of all who spend their time and fortunes in scientific
or curious researches, have so taken off the edge of those who
have opulent fortunes and a love to learning, that these
studies begin to be contracted amongst physicians and
mechanics." — He treats King with good-humour. "A man
is got but a very little way (in philosophy) that is concerned
as often as such a merry gentleman as Dr. King shall think
fit to make himself sport." *
* Dr. King's dispersed works have fortunately been collected by Mr.
Nichols, with ample illustrations, in three vols. 8vo, 1776. The "Useful
Transactions in Philosophy and other sorts of Learning," form a collection
of ludicrous dissertations of Antiquarianism, Natural Philosophy, Criticism,
&c., where his own peculiar humour combines with his curious reading.
[In this he burlesqued the proceedings of the Royal and Antiquarian
Societies with some degree of spirit and humour. By turning vulgar lines
into Greek, Latin, and Anglo-Saxon, a learned air is given to some papers
on childish subjects. One learned doctor communicates to another "an
Essay proving, by arguments philosophical, that millers, falsely so reputed,
are not thieves, with an interesting argument that taylors likewise are not
so." A Welsh schoolmaster sends some "natural observations" made in
Wales, in direct imitation of the "Philosophical Transactions" for 1707,
and with humorous love for genealogy, reckons that in his school, "since the
flood, there have been 466, and I am the 467th master: before the flood,
they living long, there were but two— Rice ap Evan Dhathe good, and Davie
ap Shones Gronnah the naught, in whose time the flood came." The first
paper of the collection is an evident jest on John Bagford and his gather-
ings for the history of printing, now preserved among the manuscripts of
the British Museum. It pm-ports to be " an Essay on the invention of
samplers, communicated by Mrs. Judith Bagford, with an account of
her collections for the same :" and written in burlesque of a paper in the
"Philosophical Transactions" for April, 1697. It is a most elaborate per-
formance, deducing with mock-seriousness the origin of samplers from the
ancient tales of Arachne, who "set forth the whole story of her wi'ongs
in needlework, and sent it to her sister ;" and our author adds, with
much humour, " it is very remarkable that the memory of this story does
at present continue, for there are no samplers, which proceed in any mea-
sure beyond the first rudiments, but have a tree and a nightingale sitting
on it." Such were the jests of the day against the Royal philosophers.]
He also invented satirical and humorous indexes, not the least facetious
parts of his volumes. King had made notes on more than 20,000 books
and MSS., and his Adversaria, of which a portion has been preserved,
is not inferior in curiosity to the literary journals of Gibbon, though it
wants the investigating spirit of the modern philosopher.
SIR JOHN HILL,
THE HOYAL SOCIETY, FIELDING, SMART, &c.
A Parallel between Orator Henley and Sir John Hill — his love of the
Science of Botany, with the fate of his '* Vegetable Systepi" — ridicules
scientific Collectors; his "Dissertation on Royal Societies," and his
"Keview of the Works of the Royal Society" — compliments himself
that he is not a Member — successful in his attacks on the Experi-
mentalists, but loses his spirit in encountering the Wits — "The
Inspector" — a paper war with Fielding — a literary stratagem — battles
with Smart and Woodward — Hill appeals to the Nation for the Office
of Keeper of the Sloane Collection — closes his life by turning Empiric
— Some Epigrams on Hill — his Miscellaneous Writiugs.
Ik the history of literature we discover some who have
opened their career with noble designs, and with no deficient
powers, yet unblest with stoic virtues, having missed, in their
honourable labours, those rewards they had anticipated, they
have exhibited a sudden transition of character, and have left
only a name proverbial for its disgrace.
Our own literature exhibits two extraordinary characters,
indelibl}^ marked by the same traditional odium. The wit
and acuteness of Orator Henley, and the science and vivacity
of the versatile Sir John Hill, must separate them from
those who plead the same motives for abjuring all moral
restraint, without having ever furnished the world with a
single instance that they were capable of forming nobler
views.
This orator and this knigTit would admit of a close parallel ;*
both as modest in their youth as afterwards remarkable for
their effrontery. Their youth witnessed the same devoted-
ness to study, with the same inventive and enterprising genius.
Hill projected and pursued a plan of botanical travels, to form
a collection of rare plants : the patronage he received was too
* The moral and literary character of Henley has been developed ia
"Calamities of Authors."
Sir John Hill. 363
limited, and he suffered the misfortune of having anticipated
the national taste for the science of botany by half a century.
Our young philosopher's valuable " Treatise on Gems," from
Theophrastus, procured for him the warm friendship of the
eminent members of the Eoyal Society. To this critical
period of the lives of Henley and of Hill, their resemblance is
striking ; nor is it less from the moment the surprising revo-
lution in their characters occurred.
Pressed by the wants of life, they lost its decencies.
Henley attempted to poise himself against the University;
Hill against the Eoyal Society. Rejected by these learned
bodies, both these Cains of literature, amid their luxuriant
ridicule of eminent men, still evince some claims to rank
among them. The one prostituted his genius in his
"Lectures;" the other, in his "Inspectors." Never two
authors were more constantly pelted with epigrams, or
buffeted in literary quarrels. They have met with the same
fate ; covered with the same odium. Yet Sir John Hill, this
despised man, after all the fertile absurdities of his literary
life, performed more for the improvement of the " Philosophi-
cal Transactions," and was the cause of diff"using a more
general taste for the science of botany, than any other con-
temporary. His real ability extorts that regard which his
misdirected ingenuity, instigated by vanity, and often by more
worthless motives, had lost for him in the world.*
* The twenty-six folios of his ''Vegetable System," with many others,
testify his love and his labour. It contains 1600 plates, representing
26,000 different figures of plants from nature only. This publication
ruined the author, whose widow (the sister of Lord Kanelagh) published
*' An-Address to the Public, by the Hon. Lady Hill, setting forth the con-
sequences of the late Sir John Hill's acquaintance with the Earl of Bute,"
1787. I should have noticed it in the "Calamities of Authors." It offers
a sad and mortifying lesson to the votary of science who aspires to a noble
enterprise. Lady Hill complains of the patron; but a patron, however
great, cannot always raise the public taste to the degree required to afford
the only true patronage which can animate and reward an author. Her
detail is impressive : —
"Sir John Hill had just wrote a book of great elegance — I think it was
called 'Exotic Botany' — which he wished to have presented to the king,
and therefore named it to Lord Bute. His lordship waived that, saying
that ' he had a greater object to propose ;' and shortly after laid before him
a plan of the most voluminous, magnificent, and costly work that ever
man attempted. I tremble when I name its title — because I think the
severe application which it required killed him ; and lam sure the expense
ruined his fortune — ' The Vegetable System.' This work was to consist of
twenty-six volumes folio, containing sixteen hundred copper-plates, the
364 Quarrels of Authors.
At the time that Hill was engaged in several large compila-
tions for the booksellers, his employers were desirous that the
honours of an F.R.S, should ornament his title-page. This
versatile genius, however, during these graver works, had sud-
denly emerged from his learned garret, and, in the shape of a
fashionable lounger, rolled in his chariot from the Bedford to
Ranelagh ; was visible at routs ; and sate at the theatre a
tremendous arbiter of taste, raising about him tumults and
divisions ;* and in his " Inspectors," a periodical paper which
he published in the London Daily Advertiser, retailed all
the great matters relating to himself, and all the little matters
he collected in his rounds relating to others. Among other
personalities, he indulged his satirical fluency on the scientific
collectors. The Antiquarian Society were twitted as medal-
scrapers and antediluvian knife-grinders ; conchologists were
turned into cockleshell merchants ; and the naturahsts were
made to record pompous histories of stickle-backs and cock-
chafers. Cautioned by Martin Folkes, President of the Royal
Society,t not to attempt his election, our enraged comic phUo-
engraving of each cost four guineas ; the paper was of the most expensive
kind ; the drawings by the first hands. The pi'inting was also a very
weighty concern ; and many other articles, with which I am unacquainted.
Lord Bute said that 'the expense had been considered, and that Sir John
Hill might rest assured his circumstances should not be injured.' Thus he
entered upon and finished his destruction. The sale bore no proportion to
the expense. After 'The Vegetable System' was completed, Lord Bute
proposed another volume to be added, which Sir John strenuously opposed ;
but his lordship repeating his desire, Sir John complied, lest his lordship
should find a pretext to cast aside repeated promises of ample provision for
himself and family. But this was the crisis of his fate — he died." Lady
Hill adds : — " He was a character on which evex-y virtue was impressed."
The domestic partiality of the widow cannot alter the truth of the narrative
of " The Vegetable System," and its twenty-six tomes.
* His apologist forms this excuse for one then affecting to be a student
and a rake : — " Though engaged in works which required the attention of
a whole life, he was so exact an economist of his time that he scarcely ever
missed a public amusement for many years ; and this, as he somewhere
observes, was of no small service to him ; as, without indulging in these
respects, he could not have undergone the fatigue and study inseparable
from the execution of his vast designs." — Short Account of the "Life,
Writings, and Character of the late Sir John Hill, M.D." Edinburgh:
1779.
t Hogarth has painted a portrait of Folkes, which is still hanging in the
rooms of the Royal Society. He was nominated vice-president by the great
Sir Isaac Newton, and succeeded him as president. He wrote a work on
the "English Silver Coinage," and died at the age of sixty-four, 1754.
— Ed.
Sir John Hill. 365
sopher, who had preferred his jests to his friends, now disco-
vered that he had lost three hundred at once. Hill could not
obtain three signatures to his recommendation. Such was
the real, but, as usual, not the ostensible, motive of his for-
midable attack on the Royal Society. He produced his
" Dissertation on Royal Societies, in a letter from a Sclavonian
nobleman to his friend," 1751 ; a humorous prose satire,
exhibiting a ludicrous description of a tumultuous meeting at
the Royal Society, contrasted with the decorum observed in
the French Academy; and moreover, he added a conversazione
in a coffee-house between some of the members.
Such was the declaration of war, in a first act of hostility ;
but the pitched-battle was fought in "A Review of the Works
of the Royal Society, in eight parts," 1751. This literary
satire is nothing less than a quarto volume, resembling, in its
form and manner, the Philosophical Transactions themselves;
printed as if for the convenience of members to enable them
to bind the "Review" with the work reviewed. Voluminous
pleasantry incurs the censure of that tedious trifling which
it designs to expose. In this literary facetia, however, no in-
considerable knowledge is interspersed with the ridicule.
Perhaps Hill might have recollected the successful attempts
of Stubbe on the Royal Society, who contributed that curious
knowledge which he pretended the Royal Society wanted;
and with this knowledge he attempted to combine the humour
of Dr. King.*
Hill's rejection from the Royal Society, to another man
would have been a puddle to step over ; but he tells a story,
and cleanly passes on, with impudent adroitness.f
* Hill planned his Review with good sense. He says : — '* If I am merry
in some places, it ought to be considered that the subjects are too ridiculous
for serious criticism. That the work, however, might not be without its
real use, an Error is nowhere exposed without establishing a Truth in its
place." He has incidentally thrown out much curious knowledge — such
as his plan for forming a Jlortus Siccus, &c. The Review itself may still
be considered both as curious and entertaining.
t In exposing their deficiencies, as well as their redundancies, Hill only
wishes, as he tells us, that the Society may by this means become ashamed
of what it has been, and that the worid may know that he is not a member
of it till it is an honour to a man to be so/ This was telling the world,
with some ingenuity, and with no little impudence, that the Royal Society
would not admit him as a member. He pretends to give a secret anecdote
to explain the cause of this rejection. Hill, in every critical conjuncture
of his affairs, and they were frequent ones, had always a story to tell, or
an evasion, which served its momentary purpose. When caned by an Irish
366 Quarrels of Authors,
Hill, however, though he used all the freedom of a satirist,
by exposing many ridiculous papers, taught the Royal Society
a more cautious selection. It could, however, obtain no for-
giveness from the parties it offended; and while the respectable
men whom Hill had the audacity to attack, Martin Folkes,
the friend and successor of Newton, and Henry Baker, the
naturalist, were above his censure, — his own reputation re-
mained in the hands of his enemies. While Hill was gaining
over the laughers on his side, that volatile populace soon dis-
covered that the fittest object to be laughed at was our
literary Proteus himself.
The most egregious egotism alone could have induced this
gentleman at Ranelagh, and his personal courage, rather than his stoicism,
was suspected, he published a story of Ms having once caned a person
■whom he called Mario ; on which a wag, considering Hill as a Prometheus,
wrote —
" To beat one man great Hill was fated.
What man ? — a man whom he created !"
We shall see the story he turned to his purpose, when pressed hard by
Fielding. In the present instance, in a letter to a foreign correspondent,
who had observed his name on the list of the Correspondents of the Royal
Society, Hill said — '* You are to know that / have the honour kot to he
a member of the Royal Society of London^ — This letter lay open on his
table when a member, upon his accustomed visit, came in, and in his absence
read it. "And we are not to wonder," says Hill, "that he who
could obtain intelligence in this manner could also divulge it. Hinc
nice lachrymce ! Hence all the animosities that have since disturbed this
philosophic world." While Hill insolently congratulates himself that he
is not a member of the .Royal Society, he. has most evidently shown that
he had no objection to be the member of any society which would enrol his
name among them. He obtained his medical degree from no honourable
source ; and another title, which he affected, he mysteriously contracted
into barbaric dissonance. Hill entitled himself —
Acad. Reg. Scient. Burd. t&c. Soc.
To which Smart, in the '*Hilliad," alludes —
'* While Jargon gave his titles on a bloch,
And stj^led him M.D. Acad. Budig. Soc."
His personal attacks on Martin Folkes, the president, are caustic, but
they may not be true ; and on Baker, celebrated for his microscopical
discoveries, are keen. He reproaches Folkes, in his severe dedication of
the work, in all the dignity of solemn invective. — " The manner in which
you represented me to a noble friend, while to myself you made me much
more than I deserved-; the ease with which you had excused yourself,
and the solemnity with which, in the face of Almighty God, you excused
yourself again ; when we remember that the whole was done within the
compass of a day ; these are surely virtues in a patron that I, of all men,
ought not to pass over in silence." Baker, in his early days, had unluckily
published a volume of lusory poems. Some imitations of Prior's loose tales
Sir John Hill. 367
versatile being, engaged in laborious works, to venture to give
the town the dail}^ paper of The Insj)ector,whic\\ he supported
for about two years. It was a light scandalous chronicle all
the week, with a seventh-day sermon. His utter contempt
for the genius of his contemporaries, and the bold conceit of
his own, often rendered the motley pages amusing. The In-
spector became, indeed, the instrument of his own martyrdom ;
but his impudence looked like magnanimity ; for he endured,
with undiminished spirit, the most biting satires, the most
wounding epigrams, and more palpable castigations.* His
Hill makes use of to illustrate Ms "Philosophical Transactions," All is
food for the malicious digestion of Wit !
His anecdote of Mr. Baker's Louse is a piece of secret scientific history
sufficiently ludicrous.
*' The Duke of Montague was famous for his love to the whole animal
creation, and for his being able to keep a very grave face when not in the
most serious earnest. Mr. Baker, a distinguished member of the Royal
Society, had one day entertained this nobleman and several other persons
with the sight of the peristaltic motion of the bowels in a louse, by the
microscope. When the observation was over, he was going to throw the
creature away ; but the Duke, with a face that made him believe he was
perfectly in earnest, told him it would be not only cruel, but ungrateful,
in return for the entertainment that creature had given them, to destroy
it. He ordered the boy to be brought in from whom it was procured, and
after praising the smallness and delicacy of Mi'. Baker's fingerSj persuaded
him carefully to replace the animal in its former territories, and to give the
boy a shilling not to disturb it for a fortnight."—" A Review of the Works
of the Royal Society," by John Hill, M.D., p. 5.
* These papers had appeared in the London Daily Advertiser, 1754.
At their close he gleaned the best, and has preserved them in two volumes.
But as Hill will never rank as a classic, the original nonsense will be con-
sidered as most proper for the purposes of a true collector. Woodward,
the comedian, in his lively attack on Hill, has given "a mock Inspector,"
an exquisite piece of literary ridicule, in which he has hit off the egotisms
and slovenly ease of the real ones. Never, like " The Inspector," flamed
such a provoking prodigy in the cloudy skies of Grub-street ; and Hill
seems studiously to have mortified his luckless rivals by a perpetual em-
broidery of his adventures in the "Walks at Mary bone," the "Rotunda
at Ranelagh," spangled over with "my domestics," and "my equipage."
[One of his adventures at Ranelagh was sufficiently unfortunate to obtain
for him the unenviable notoriety of a caricature print representing him
enduring a castigation at the Rotunda gate from an Irish gentleman named
Brown, with whose character he had made far too free in one of his " In-
spectors." Hill showed much pusillanimity in the affair, took to his bed,
and gave out that the whole thing was a conspiracy to murder him. This
occasioned the publication of another print, in which he is represented in
bed, surrounded by medical men, who treat him with very little respect.
One insists on his fee, because Hill has never been acknowledged as one of
themselves ; and another, to his plea of want of money, responds, "Sell
your sword, it is only an encumbrance."]
368 Quarrels of Authors.
vein of pleasantry ran more freel}'^ in his attacks on the Eojal
Society than in his other literary quarrels. When Hill had
not to banter ridiculous experimentalists, but to encounter
wits, his reluctant spirit soon bowed its head. Suddenly even
his pertness loses its vivacity ; he becomes drowsy with dul-
ness, and, conscious of the dubiousness of his own cause, he
skulks away terrified : he felt that the mask of quackery and
impudence which he usually wore was to be pulled off by the
hands now extended against him.
A humorous warfare of wit opened between Fielding, in his
Covent-Garden Journal, and Hill, in his Inspector. The
Inspector had made the famous lion's head, at the Bedford,
which the genius of Addison and Steele had once animated,
the receptacle of his wit ; and the wits asserted, of this now
inutile lignum, that it was reduced to a mere state of block-
Jieadism. Fielding occasionally gave a facetious narrative of
a paper war between the forces of Sir Alexander Drawcansir,
the literary hero of the Covent- Garden Journal, and the army
of Grub-street ; it formed an occasional literary satire. Hill's
lion, no longer Addison's or Steele's, is not described without
humour. Drawcansir's " troops are kept in awe by a strange
mixed monster, not much unlike the famous chimera of old.
For while some of our Reconnoiterers tell us that this monster
has the appearance of a lion, others assure us that his ears are
much longer than those of that generous beast."
Hill ventured to notice this attack on his "blockhead;'*
and, as was usual with him, had some secret history to season
his defence with.
"The author of 'Amelia,' whom I have only once seen, told
me, at that accidental meeting, he held the present set of
writers in the utmost contempt ; and that, in his character of
Sir Alexander Drawcansir, he should treat them in the most
unmerciful manner. He assured me he had always excepted
me ; and after honouring me with some encomiums, he pro-
ceeded to mention a conduct which would be, he said, useful
to both ; this was, the amusing our readers with a mock fight ;
giving blows that would not hurt, and sharing the advantage
in silence."*
* It is useful to remind tlie public that they are often played upon in
this manner by the artifices oi political writers. We have observed symp-
toms of this deception practised at present. It is an old trick of the craft,
and was greatly used at a time when the nation seemed maddened with
political factions. In a pamphlet of " A View of London and Westminster,
Sir John Hill. 369
Thus, by reversing the fact, Hill contrived to turn aside
the frequent stories against him by a momentary artifice,
arresting or dividing public opinion. The truth was, more
probably, as Fielding relates it, and the story, as we shall see,
then becomes quite a different affair. At all events, Hill in-
curred the censure of the traitor who violates a confidential
intercourse.
And if he lies not, must at least betray.
Pope.
Fielding lost no time in reply. To have brought down the
Inspector from his fastnesses into the open field, was what our
new General only wanted : a battle was sure to be a victory.
Our critical Drawcansir has performed his part, with his in-
different puns, but his natural facetiousness.
" It being reported to the General that a Mil must be
levelled, before the Bedford coffee-house could be taken, orders
were given ; but this was afterwards found to be a mistake ;
for this hill was only a little paltry dunghill, and had long
before been levelled with the dirt. The General was then
informed of a report which had been spread by his lowness,
the Prince of Billingsgate, in the Gi'ub-street army, that his
Excellency had proposed, by a secret treaty with that Prince,
to carry on the war only in appearance, and so to betray the
common cause; upon which his Excellency said with a smile :
— ' If the betrayer of a private treaty could ever deserve the
least credit, yet his Lowness here must proclaim himself
either a liar or a fool. None can doubt but that he is the
former, if he hath feigned this treaty ; and I think few would
scruple to call him the latter, if he had rejected it.' The
General then declared the fact stood thus : — ' His Lowness
came to my tent on an affair of his own. I treated, him,
though a commander in the enemy's camp, with civility, and
even kindness. I told him, with the utmost good-humour, I
should attack his Lion ; and that he might, if he pleased, in
the same manner defend him ; from which, said I, no great
loss can happen on either side — ' "
The Inspector slunk away, and never returned to the chal-
lenge.
or the Town-spy," 1725, I find this account : — "The seeming quarrel^
formerly, between Misi's Journal and the Flying Post was secretly con-
certed between themselves, in order to decoy the eyes of all the parties on
both their papers ; and the project succeeded beyond all expectation ; for
I have been told that the former narrowly missed getting an estate by
it.' —p. 32.
B B
870 Quarrels of Authors.
During his inspectorship, he invented a whimsical literary
stratagem, which ended in his receiving a castigation more
lasting than the honours performed on him at Ranelagh by
the cane of a warm Hibernian. Hill seems to have been
desirous of abusing certain friends whom he had praised in
the Inspectors ; so volatile, like the loves of coquettes, are
the literary friendships of the " Scribleri." As this could not
be done with any propriety there, he published the first
number of a new paper, entitled TJie Impertinent. Having
thus relieved his private feelings, he announced the cessation
of this new enterprise in his Inspectors, and congratulated
the public on the ill reception it had given to the Imperii'
nentj applauding them for their having shown by this that
" their indignation was superior to their curiosity." With
impudence all his own, he adds — " It will not be easy to say
too much in favour of the candour of the town, which has
despised a piece that cruelly and unjustly attacked Mr. Smart
the poet." What innocent soul could have imagined that
The Impertinent and The Inspector were the same indivi-
dual ? The style is a specimen of persiflage ; the thin
sparkling thought ; the pert vivacity, that looks like wit
without wit ; the glittering bubble, that rises in emptiness •
— even its author tells us, in The Inspector ^ it is " the most
pert, the most pretending," &c.*
* Isaac Reed, in his "Repository of Fugitive Pieces of Wit and Hu-
mour," vol. iv., in republishing "The Ililliad," has judiciously preserved
the offending "Impertinent" and the abjuring " Inspector." The style of
" The Impertinent" is volatile and poignant. His four classes of authors
•ire not without humour. " There are men who write because they have
wit ; there are those who write because they are hungry ; there are some
of the modern authors who have a constant fund of both these causes ; and
there are who will write, although they are not instigated either by the
one or by the other. The first are all spirit ; the second are all earth ;
the third disclose more life, or more vapidity, as the one or the other cause
prevails ; and for the last, having neither the one nor the other principle
for the cause, they show neither the one nor the other character in the
effect ; but begin, continue, and end, as if they had neither begun, con-
tinued, nor ended at all." The first class he instances by Fielding ; the
second by Smart. Of the third he says : — " The mingled wreath belongs
to Hill," that is himself; and the fourth he illustrates by the absurd Sir
William Browne.
* ' Those of the first rank are the most capricious and lazy of all animals.
The monkey genius would rarely exert itself, if even idleness innate did
not give way to the superior love of mischief. The ass (that is Smart),
which characters the second, is as laborious as he is empty ; he wears a
ridiculous* comicalness of asnect Cwhich was, indeed, the physiognomy of
Sir John Hill. 371
Smart, in return for our Janus-faced crifcic's treatment,
balanced the amount of debtor and creditor with a pungent
Dunciad TJie Hilliad, Hill, who had heard of the rod in
pickle, anticipated the blow, to break its strength ; and, ac-
cording to his adopted system, introduced himself and Smai-t,
with a story of his having recommended the bard to his book-
seller, " who took him into salary on my approbation. I
betrayed him into the profession, and having starved upon it,
he has a right to abuse me." This story was formally denied
by an advertisement from Newbery, the bookseller.
" The Hilliad " is a polished and pointed satire. The hero
is thus exhibited on earth, and in heaven.
On earth, "a tawny sibyl," with "an old striped curtain — "
And tatter'd tapestry o'er her shoulders hung —
Her loins with patchwork cincture were begirt,
That more than spoke diversity of dirt.
Twain were her teeth, and single was her eye —
Cold palsy shook her head
with " moon-struck madness," awards him all the wealth and
fame she could afford him for sixpence; and closes her orgasm
with the sage admonition —
The chequer'd world's before thee ; go, farewell !
Beware of Irishmen ; and learn to spell !
But in heaven, among the immortals, never was an unfor-
tunate hero of the vindicative Muses so reduced into nothing-
ness! Jove, disturbed at the noise of this thing of wit,
exclaims, tbat nature had never proved productive in vain
before, but now,
On mere privation she bestow' d a frame.
And dignified a nothing with a name ;
A wretch devoid of use, of sense, of grace,
The insolvent tenant of incumber' d space !
Pallas hits off the style of Hill, as
The neutral nonsense, neither false nor liae—
Should Jove himself, in calculation mad,
Still negatives to blank negations add ;
How could the barren ciphers ever breed ;
But nothing still from nothing would proceed.
Raise, or depress, or magnify, or blame.
Inanity will ever be the same.
the poor poet), that makes people smile when they see him at a distance.
His mouth opens, because he must be fed, while we laugh at the insensi-
bility aaid obstinacy that make him prick his lips with thistles."
bb2
372 Quarrels of Authors.
But Phoebub shows there may still be something produced
from inanity.
E'en blank privation has its use and end —
From emptiness, how sweetest music flows f
How absence, to possession adds a grace,
And modest vacancy, to all gives place.
So from Hillario, some effect may spring ;
E'en him — that slight penumbra of a thing f
The careless style of the fluent Inspectors, beside their
audacity, brought Hill into many scrapes. He called Wood-
ward, the celebrated harlequin, " the meanest of all charac-
ters." This Woodward resented in a pamphlet-battle, in
which Hill was beaten at all points.* But Hill, or the
Monthly Reviewer, who might be the same person, for that
journal writes with the tenderness of a brother of whatever
relates to our hero, pretends that the Inspector only meant,
that " the character of Harlequin (if a thing so unnatural and
ridiculous ought to be called a character) was the meanest on
the stage ! "t
* Woodward humorously attributes Hill's attack on him to his jealousy
of his successful performance of Harlequin, and opens some of the secret
history of Hill, by which it appears that early in life he trod the thea-
trical boards. He tells us of the extraordinary pains the prompter had
taken with Hill, in the part of Oroonoko : though, "if he had not quite
forgotten it, to very little purpose." He reminds Hill of a dramatic anec-
dote, which he no doubt had forgotten. It seems he once belonged to a
strolling company at May-fair, where, in the scene between Altamont and
Lothario, the polite audience of that place all chorused, and agreed with
him, when dying he exclaimed, "Oh, Altamont, thy genius is the
stronger." He then shows him off as the starved apothecary in Romeo
and Juliet, in one of his botanic peregrinations to Chelsea Garden ; from
■whence, it is said, he was expelled for "culling too many rare plants" —
" I do remember an apothecary, ,
Culling of simples ."
Hill, who was often so brisk in his attack on the wits, had no power of
retort ; so that he was always buffeting and always buffeted.
t He was also satirised in a poem termed " The Pasquinade," published
in 1752, in which the goddesses of Pertness and Dulness join to praise him
as their favourite reflex.
"Pertness saw her form distinctly shine
In none, immortal Hill ! so full as thine."
Dulness speaks of him thus rapturously : —
" See where my son, who gratefully repays
Whate'er I lavish'd on his younger days ;
Whom still my arm protects to brave the town
Secure from Fielding, Machiavel, or Brown ;
Sir John Hill 373
I will here notice a characteristic incident in Hill's literary
life, of which the boldness and the egotism is scarcely paral-
leled, even by Orator Henley. At the time the Sloane Col-
lection of Natural History was purchased, to form a part of
our grand national establishment, the British Museum, Hill
offered himself, by public advertisement, in one of his In-
spectors, as the properest person to be placed at its head. The
world will condemn him for his impudence. The most reason-
able objection against his mode of proceeding would be, that
the thing undid itself; and that the very appearance, by
public advertisement, was one motive why so confident an
offer should be rejected. Perhaps, after all, Hill only wanted
to advertise himself.
But suppose that Hill was the man he represents himself
to be, and he fairly challenges the test, his conduct only
appears eccentric, according to routine. Unpatronised and
unfriended men are depressed, among other calamities, with
their.quiescent modesty ; but there is a rare spirit in him who
dares to claim favours, which he thinks his right, in the most
public manner. I preserve, in the note, the most striking
passages of this extraordinary appeal.*
Whom rage nor sword e'er mortally shall hurt,
Chief of a hundred chiefs o'er all the pert !
Rescued an orphan babe from common sense,
I gave his mother's milk to Confidence ;
She with her own ambrosia bronz'd his face,
And changed his skin to monumental brass.
* Hill addresses the Lord Chancellor, Archbishop of Canterbury, and
the Speaker, on Sir Hans Sloane's Collection of Natural History, proposing
himself as a candidate for nomination in the principal office, by whatever
name that shall be called : — "I deliver myself with humility ; but con-
scious also that I possess the liberties of a British subject, I shall speak
with freedom." He says that the only means left for a Briton is to ad-
dress his sovereign and the public. * * That foreigners will resort to this
collection is oei-tain, for it is the most considerable in the world ; and that
our own people will often visit it is as sure, because it may be made the
means of much useful as well as curious knowledge. One and the other
will expect a person in that office who has sufficient knowledge : he must
be able to give account of every article, freely and fluently, not only in his
own, but in the Latin and French languages.
** This the world, and none in it better than your lordship, sees is not a
place that any one can execute : it requires knowledge in a peculiar and
uncommon kind of study — knowledge which very few possess ; and in
which, my lord, the bitterest of my enemies (and I have thousands, al-
though neither myself nor they know why) will not say I am deficient .
*' My lord, the eyes of all Europe ai-e upon this transaction. What title
374 Quan^els of Authors,
At length, after all these literary quarrels, Hill survived his
literary character. He had written himself down to so low a
degree, that whenever he had a work for publication, his era-
ploj'^ers stipulated, in their contracts, that the author should
conceal his name ; a circumstance not new among a certain
race of writers.* But the genius of Hill was not annihilated
I have to your lordship's favour, those books which I have published, and
with which (pardon the necessary boast) all Europe is acquainted, declare.
Many may dispute by interest with me ; but if there be one who would
prefer himself, by his abilities, I beg the matter may be brought to trial.
The collection is at hand ; and I request, my lord, such person and myself
may be examined by that test, together. It is an amazing store of know-
ledge ; and he has most, in this way, who shall show himself most ac-
quainted with it.
"What are my own abilities it very ill becomes me thus to boast ; but
did they not qualify me for the trust, my lord, I would not ask it. As to
those of any other, unless a man be conjured from the dead, I shall not
fear to say there is not any one whoever that is able so much as to call the
parts of the collection by their names.
*' I know I shall be accused of ostentation in giving to myself this pre-
ference ; and I am sorry for it : but those who have candour will know it
could not be avoided.
"Many excel, my lord, in other studies : it is my chance to have be-
stowed the labour of my life on this : those labours may be of some use to
others. This appears the only instance in which it is possible that they
should be rewarded ."
In a subsequent Inspector, he treated on the improvement of botany by
raising plants, and reading lectures on them at the British Museum, with
the living plants before the lecturer and his auditors. Poor Sir John ! he
was born half a century too early ! — He would, in this day, have made his
lectures fashionable ; and might have secured at the opera every night an
elegant audience for the next morning in the gardens of the MusSum.
* It would be difficult to form a list of his anonymous works or com-
pilations, among which many are curious. Tradition has preserved his
name as the writer of Mrs. Glasse's Cookery, and of several novels.
There is a very curious work, entitled ** Travels in the East," 2 vols. 8vo,
of which the author has been frequently and in vain inquired after. These
travels are attributed to a noble lord ; but it now appears that they are a
very entertaining narrative manufactured by Hill. Whiston, the book-
seller, had placed this work in his MS. catalogue of Hill's books.
There is still another production of considerable merit, entitled "Ob-
servations on the Greek and Roman Classics," 1753. A learned friend re-
collects, when young, that this critical work was said to be written by
Hill. It excels Blackwell and Fenton ; and aspires to the numerous com-
position of prose. The sentimental critic enters into the feelings of the
great authors whom he describes with spirit, delicacy of taste, and some-
times with beautiful illustration. It only wants a chastening hand to be-
come a manual for the young classical student, by which he might acquire
those vivid emotions, which many college tutors may not be capable of
communicating.
I suspect, too, he is the author of this work, from a passage which
Sir John Hill. 375
by being thrown down so violently on his mother earth ; like
Anthaeus, it rose still fresh ; and like Proteus, it assumed new
forms.* Lad}' Hill and the young Hills were claimants on
his industry far louder than the evanescent epigrams which
darted around him : these latter, however, were more numerous
than ever dogged an author in his road to literary celebrity.f
His science, his ingenuity, and his impudence once more
practised on the credulity of the public, with the innocent
quackery of attributing all medicinal virtues to British herbs.
Smart quotes, as a specimen of Hill's puffing himself, and of those smart
short periods which look like wit, without being witty. In a letter to
himself, as we are told. Hill writes : — " You have discovered many of the
beauties of the ancients — they are obliged to you ; we are obliged to you :
were they alive, they would thank you : we who are alive do thank you."
If Hill could discriminate the most hidden beauties of the ancients, the
tact must have been formed at his leisure — in his busy hours he never
copied them ; but when had he leisure ?
Two other works, of the most contrasted character, display the versa-
tility and dispositions of this singular genius, at different eras. When
"The Inspector" was rolling in his chariot about the town, appeared
" Letters from the Inspector to a Lady," 1752. It is a pamphlet, con-
taining the amorous correspondence of Hill with a reigning beauty, whom
he first saw at Ranelagh, On his first ardent professions he is contemp-
tuously rejected ; he perseveres in high passion, and is coldly encouraged ;
at length he triumphs ; and this proud and sullen beauty, in her turn,
presents a horrid picture of the passions. Hill then becomes the reverse of
what he was ; weary of her jealousy, sated with the intercourse, he stu-
diously avoids, and at length rejects her ; assigning for his final argument
his approaching marriage. The work may produce a moral effect, while it
exhibits a striking picture of all the misery of illicit connexions : but the
scenes are coloured with Ovidian warmth. The original letters were
shown at the bookseller's : Hill's were in his own handwriting, and the
lady's in a female hand. But whether Hill was the publisher, as an at-
tempt at notoriety — or the lady admired her own correspondence, which is
often exquisitely wrought, is not known.
Hill, in his sei'ious hours, published a large quarto volume, entitled
** Thoughts Concerning God and Nature," 1755. This work, the result of
his scientific knowledge and his moral reasoning, was never undertaken for
the purpose of profit. He printed it with the certainty of a considerable
loss, from its abstract topics, not obvious to general readers ; at a time,
too, when a guinea quarto was a very hazardous enterprise. He published
it purely from conscientious and religious motives ; a circumstance men-
tioned in that Apology of his Life which we have noticed. The more
closely the character of Hill is scrutinised, the more extraordinary appears
this man, so often justly contemned, and so often unjustly depreciated.
* Through the influence of Lord Bute he became connected with the
Royal Gardens at Kew ; and his lordship also assisted him in publishing
his botanical works. See note, p. 363.
+ It would occupy pages to transcribe epigrams on Hill. One of them
alludes to his philosophical as well as his literary character : —
376 Quarrels of Authors.
He made many walk out, who were too sedentary : they were
delighted to cure headaches by feverfew tea ; hectic fevers by
the daisy ; colics by the leaves of camomile, and agues by its
flowers. All these were accom])anied by plates of the plants,
with the Linnsean names.* This was preparatory to the
Essences of Sage, Balsams of Honey, and Tinctures of
Valerian. Simple persons imagined they were scientific
botanists in their walks, with Hill's plates in their hands.
But one of the newly-discovered virtues of British herbs was,
undoubtedly, that of placing the discoverer in a chariot.
In an Apology for the character of Sir John Hill, published
after his death, where he is painted with much beauty of
colouring, and elegance of form, the eruptions and excrescences
of his motley physiognomy, while they are indicated — for
they were too visible to be entirely omitted in anything pre-
tending to a resemblance — are melted down, and even touched
into a grace. The Apology is not unskilful, but the real pur-
pose appears in the last page ; where we are informed that
Lady Hill, fortunately for the world, possesses all his valuable
recipes and herbal remedies !
*' Hill puffs himself ; forbear to chide !
An insect vile and mean
Must first, he knows, be magnified
Before it can be seen."
Garrick's happy lines are well known on his farces : —
*' For physic and farces his equal there scarce is —
His farces are physic, his physic a farce is."
Another said —
" The worse that we wish thee, for all thy vile crimes,
Is to take" thy own physic, and read thy own rhymes. **
The rejoinder would reverse the wish —
" For, if he takes his physic firat>
He'll never read his rhymes."
* Hill says, in his pamphlet on the "Virtues of British Herbs'* : — **It
will be happy if, by the same means, the knowledge of plants also becomes
more general. The study of them is pleasant, and the exercise of it health-
ful. He who seeks the herb for its cure, will find it half effected by the
•walk ; and when he is acquainted with the useful kinds, he may be more
people's, besides his own, physician.'*
BOYLE AND BENTLEY.
A Faction of Wits ut Oxford the concealed movers of this Controversy — Sir
William Temple's opinions the ostensible cause ; Editions of classical
Authors by young Students at Oxford the probable one — Boyle's first
attack in the Preface to his "Phalaris" — Bentley, after a silence of three
years, betrays his feelings on the literary calumny of Boyle — Boyle
replies by the "Examination of Bentley's Dissertation" — Bentley re-
joins by enlarging it — the effects of a contradictory Narrative at a distant
time — Bentley's suspicions of the origin of the "Phalaris," and "The
Examination," proved by subsequent facts — Bentley's dignity when
stung at the ridicule of Dr. King — applies a classical pun, and nicknames
his facetious and caustic Adversary — King invents an extraordinary
Index to dissect the character of Bentley — specimens of the Controversy ;
Boyle's menace, anathema, and ludicrous humour — Bentley's sarcastic
reply not inferior to that of the Wits.
The splendid controversy between Botle and Bet^tley was
at times a strife of gladiators, and has been regretted as the
opprobrium of our literature ; but it should be perpetuated to
its honour ; for it may be considered, on one side at least, as
a noble contest of heroism.
The ostensible cause of the present quarrel was inconsider-
able ; the concealed motive lies deeper ; and .the party feelings
of the haughty Aristarchus of Cambridge, and a faction of
wits at Oxford, under the secret influence of Dean Aldrich,
provoked this fierce and glorious contest.
Wit, ridicule, and invective, by cabal and stratagem, obtained
a seeming triumph over a single individual, but who, like the
Farnesian Hercules, personified the force and resistance of in-
comparable strength. " The Bees of Christchurch," as this
conspiracy of wits has been called, so musical and so angry,
rushed in a dark swarm about him, but only left their fine
stings in the flesh they could not wound. He only put out
his hand in contempt, never in rage. The Christchurch
men, as if doubtful whether wit could prevail against learning,
had recourse to the maliciousness of personal satire. They
amused an idle public, who could even relish sense and Greek,
seasoned as they were with wit and satire, while Boyle was
378 Quarrels of Authors.
showing how Bentley wanted wit, and Bentley was proving
how Boyle wanted learning.
To detect the origin of the controversy, we must find the
seed-plot of Bentley's volume in Sir William Temple's '" Essay
upon Ancient and Modern Learning," which he inscribed to
his alma mater, the University of Cambridge. Sir William,
who had caught the contagion of the prevalent literary con-
troversy of the times, in which the finest geniuses in Europe
had entered the lists, imagined that the ancients possessed a
greater force of genius, with some peculiar advantages — that
the human mind was in a state of decay — and that our know-
ledge was nothing more than scattered fragments saved out of
the general shipwreck. He writes with a premeditated
design to dispute the improvements or undervalue the inven-
tions of his own age. Wotton, the friend of Bentley, replied by
his curious volume of " Reflections on Ancient and Modern
Learning." But Sir William, in his ardour, had thrown out
an unguarded opinion, which excited the hostile contempt of
Bentley. " The oldest books," he says, " we have, are still
in their kind the best : the two most ancient that I know of,
in prose, are ' ^sop's Fables ' and ' Phalaris's Epistles.' " —
The "Epistles," he insists, exhibit every excellence of "a
statesman, a soldier, a wit, and a scholar." That ancient
author, who Bentley afterwards asserted was only "some
dreaming pedant, with his elbow on his desk."
Bentley, bristled over with Greek, perhaps then considered
that to notice a vernacular and volatile writer ill assorted
with the critic's Fastus. But about this time Dean Aldrich
had set an example to the students of Christchurch of pub-
lishing editions of classical authors. Such juvenile editor-
ships served as an easy admission into the fashionable litera-
ture of Oxford. Alsop had published the "-^sop;" and Boyle,
among other "young gentlemen," easily obtained the favour
of the dean, " to desire him to undertake an edition of the
'Epistles of Phalaris.' " Such are the modest terms Boyle
employs in his reply to Bentley, after he had discovered the
unlucky choice he had made of an author.
For this edition of " Phalaris ' ' it was necessary to collate a
MS. in the king's library ; and Bentley, about this time, had
become the royal librarian. Boyle did not apply directly t(>
Bentley, but circuitously, by his bookseller, with whom the
doctor was not on terms. Some act of civility, or a Mercury
more "formose," to use one of his latinisms, was probably ,
Boyle and Bentley. 379
expected. The MS. was granted, but the collator was negli-
gent ; in six days Bentley reclaimed it, " four hours " had been
sufficient for the purpose of collation.
When Boyle's " Phalaris " appeared, he made this charge
in the preface, that having ordered the Epistles to be collated
with the MS. in the king's library, the collator was prevented
perfecting the collation by the singular humanity of the
library -keeper, who refused any further use of the MS. ; pro
singulari sua humanitate negavit : an expression that sharply
hit a man marked by the haughtiness of his manners.*
Bentley, on this insult, informed Boyle of what had passed.
He expected that Boyle would have civilly cancelled the page;
though he tells us he did not require this, because, "to have
insisted on the cancel, might have been forcing a gentleman
to too low a submission ;" — a stroke of delicacy which will
surprise some to discover in the strong character of Bentley.
But he was also too haughty to ask a favour, and too con-
.scious of his superiority to betray a feeling of injury. Boyle
replied, that the bookseller's account was quite different from
the doctor's, who had spoken slightingly of him. Bentley
said no more.
Three years had nearly elapsed, when Bentley, in a new
edition of his friend Wotton's book, published " A Disserta-
tion on the Epistles of the Ancients;" where, reprehending the
false criticism of Sir William Temple, he asserted that the
" Fables of iEsop " and the " Epistles of Phalaris " were alike
spurious. The blow was levelled at Christchurch, and all
"the bees" were brushed down in the warmth of their
summer-day.
It is remarkable that Bentley kept so long a silence;
indeed, he had considered the affair so trivial, that he had pre-
served no part of the correspondence with Boyle, whom no
doubt he slighted as the young editor of a spurious author.
But Boyle's edition came forth, as Bentley expresses it, "with
* Haughtiness was the marking feature of Bentley's literary character ;
and his Wolseyan style and air have been played on by the wits. Bentley
happened to express himself on the King's MS. of Phalaris in a manner
their witty malice turned against him. " 'Twas a surprise (he said) to
find that OUR MS. was not perused." — **OuR MS. (they proceed) that is,
his Majesty's and mine ! He speaks out now ; 'tis no longer the King's,
but OUR MS., i. e. Dr. Bentley's and the King's in common, Ego et Rex
mens — much too familiar for a library-keeper !" — It hfis been said that
Bentley used the same Wolseyan egotism on Pope's publications : — "This
man is always abusing me or the King /"'
380 Quarrels of Authors.
a sting in its mouth." This, at first, was like a cut finger —
he breathed on it, and would have forgotten it ; but the nerve
was touched, and the pain raged long after the stroke. Even
the great mind of Bentley began to shrink at the touch of
literary calumny, so different from the vulgar kind, in its
extent and its duration. He betrays the soreness he would
wish to conceal, when he complains that " the false story has
been spread all over England."
The statement of Bentley produced, in reply, the famous
book of Boyle's "Examination of Bentley's Dissertation." It
opens with an imposing narrative, highly polished, of the
whole transaction, with the extraordinary furniture of docu-
ments, which had never before entered into a literary contro-
versy — depositions — certificates — affidavits — and private
letters. Bentley now rejoined by his enlarged " Dissertation
on Phalaris," a volume of perpetual value to the lovers of
ancient literature, and the memorable preface of which, itself
a volume, exhibits another Narrative, entirely differing from
Boyle's. These produced new replies and new rejoinders.
The whole controversy became so perplexed, that it has
frightened away all who have attempted to adjust the par-
ticulars. With unanimous consent they give up the cause,
as one in which both parties studied only to contradict each
other. Such was the fate of a Narrative, which was made
out of the recollections of the parties, with all their passions
at work, after an interval of three years. In each, the
memory seemed only retentive of those passages which best
suited their own purpose, and which were precisely those the
other party was most likely to have forgotten. What was
forgotten, was denied ; what was admitted, was made to refer
to something else ; dialogues were given which appear never
to have been spoken ; and incidents described which are
declared never to have taken place ; and all this, perhaps,
without any purposed violation of truth. Such were the
dangers and misunderstandings which attended a Narrative
framed out of the broken or passionate recollections of the
parties on the watch to confound one another.*
* Bentley, in one place, having to give a positive contradiction to the
statement of the bookseller, rising in all his dignity and energy, exclaims,
'* What can be done in this case ? Here are two contrary affirmations ;
and the matter being done in private, neither of us have any witness. I
might plead, as iEmilius Scaurus did against one Vai-ius, of Sucro. Varius
Sucronensis ait, uEtnilius Scaurus neyat. Utri creditis Quirltes f p. 21.
Boyle and Bentley. 381
Bentley's Narrative is a most vigorous production : it
heaves with the workings of a master-spirit ; still reasoning
with such force, and still applying with such happiness the
stores of his copious literature, had it not heen for this hte-
rarj quarrel, the mere EngHsh reader had lost this single
opportunity of surveying that commanding intellect.
Boyle's edition of " Phalaris" was a work of parade, de-
signed to confer on a young man, who bore an eminent name,
some distinction in the literary world. But Bentley seems
to have been well-informed of the secret transactions at
Christchurch. In his first attack he mentions Boyle as '* the
young gentleman of great hopes, whose name is set to the
edition;" and asserts that the editor, no more than his own
"Phalaris," has written what was ascribed to him. He per-
sists in making a plurality of a pretended unity, by multi-
plying Boyle into a variety of little personages, of " new
editors," our " annotators," our " great geniuses."* Boyle,
— The story is told by Valerius Maximns, lib. iii. c. 7. Scaurus was
insolently accused by one Varius, a Sucronian, that he had taken bribes
from Mithridates : Scaurus addressed the Roman people . "He did not
think it just that a man of his age should defend himself against accusations,
and before those who were not born when he filled the offices of the republic,
nor witnessed the actions he had performed. Varius, the Sucronian, says
that Scaurus, corrupted by gold, would have betrayed the republic ; Scaurus
replies, It is not true. Whom will you believe, fellow-Komans ?" — This
appeal to the people produced all the effect imaginable, and the ridiculous
accuser was silenced.
Bentley points the same application, with even more self-consciousness of
his worth, in another part of his preface. It became necessary to praise
himself, to remove the odium Boyle and his friends had raised on him — it
was a difficulty overcome. " I will once more borrow the form of argument
that J^lmilius Scaurus used against Varius Sucronensis. Mr. Spanheim and
Mr. Graevius give a high character of Dr. B.'s learning : Mr. Boyle gives
the meanest that malice can furnish himself with. Utrl creditis, Quirites?
"Whether of the characters will the present age or posterity believe ?" — p. 82.
It was only a truly great mind which could bring itself so close to posterity.
* It was the fashion then to appear very unconcerned about one's literary
reputation ; but then to be so tenacious about it when once obtained as
not to suffer, with common patience, even the little finger of criticism to
touch it. Boyle, after defending what he calls his "honesty," adds,
' ' the rest only touches my learning. This will give me oio concern^
though it may put me to some little trouble. I shall enter upon this with
the indifference of a gamester who plays hut for a trifle." On this affected
indifference, Bentley keenly observes : — " This was entering on his work
a little ominously ; for a gamester who plays with indifference never plays
his game well. Besides that, by this odd comparison, he seems to give
warning, and is as good as his word, that he will put the dice upon his
readers as often as he can. But what is woi'se than all, this comparison
383 Quarrels of Authors.
touched at these reflections, declared " they were levelled at
a learned society, in which I had the happiness to he edu-
cated ; as if ' Phalaris' had been made up by contributions
from several hands." Pressed by Bentley to acknowledge
the assistance of Dr. John Freind, Boyle confers on him the
ambiguous title of " The Director of Studies." Bentley
links the Bees together — Dr. Freind and Dr. Alsop. " The
Director of Studies, who has lately set out Ovid's ' Metamor-
phoses,' with a paraphrase and notes, is of the same size for
learning with the late editor of the TEsopian Fables. Tliey
bring the nation into contempt abroad, and themselves into
it at home;" and adds to this magisterial stj'le, the morti-
fication of his criticism on Freind's Ovid, as on Alsop's
JEsop.
But Boyle assuming the honours of an edition of " Pha-
laris," was but a venial offence, compared with that com-
mitted by the celebrated volume published in its defence.
If Bentley's suspicions were not far from the truth, that
"the 'Phalaris' had been made up hy contrihutions'' they
approached still closer when they attacked " The Examina-
tion of his Dissertation." Such was the assistance which
Boyle received from all "the Bees," that scarcely a few ears
of that rich sheaf fall to his portion. His efforts hardly reach
to the mere narrative of his transactions with Bentley. All
the varied erudition, all the Attic graces, all the inexhaus-
tible wit, are claimed by others; so that Boyle was not
materially concerned either in his " Phalaris," or in the more
memorable work.*
puts one in mind of a general rumonr, that there's another set of gamesters
who play him in his dispute while themselves are safe behind the curtain."
— Bentley's Dissertation on Phalaris^ p. 2.
* Rumours and conjectures are the lot of contemporaries ; truth seems
reserved only for posterity ; and, like the fabled Minerva, she is born of
age at once. The secret history of this volume, which partially appeared,
has been more particularly opened in one of War burton's letters, who
received it from Pope, who had been "let into the secret." Boyle wrote
the Narrative, ** which, too, was corrected for him." Freind, who wrote
the entire Dissertation on ^sop in that volume, wrote also, with Atter-
bury, the body of the Criticisms ; King, the droll argument, proving that
Bentley was not the author of his own Dissertation, and the extraordinary
index which I shall shortly notice. In Atterbury's " Epistolary Correspon-
dence" is a letter, where, with equal anger and dignity, Atterbury avows
his having written ahout halfy and planned the whole of Boyle's attack
upon Bentley ! With these facts before us, can we read without surprise,
Boyle and Bentley. 383
The Christchurch party now formed a literary conspiracy
against the great critic ; and as treason is infectious when
the faction is strong, they were secretly engaging new asso-
ciates. Whenever any of the party pablished anything them-
if not without indignation, the passage I shall now quote from the book to
■which the name of Boyle is prefixed. In raising an artful charge against
Bentley, of appropriating to himself some MS. notes of Sir Edward Sher-
burn, Boyle, replying to the argument of Bentley, that " Phalaris" was the
work of some sophist, says : — " The sophists are everywhere pelted by Dr.
Bentley, for putting out what they wrote in other men's names ; but I did
not expect to hear so loudly of it from one that has so far outdone them ;
for / think His much worse to take the honour of another man's book to
one^s self, than to entitle one's own book to another man." — p. 16.
I am surprised Bentley did not turn the point of his antagonist's sword
on himself, for this flourish was a most unguarded one. But Bentley could
not then know so much of the book, " made up by contributions," as our-
selves.
Partial truths flew about in rumours at the time ; but the friends of a
young nobleman, and even his fellow-workmen, seemed concerned that his
glory should not be diminished by a ruinous division. Rymer, in his
"Essay concerning Curious and Critical Learning," judiciously surmised
its true origin. " I fancy this book was written (as most public compo-
sitions in that college are) by a select club. Every one seems to have
thrown in a repartee or so in his turn ; and the most ingenious Dr. Aldrich
(he does not deserve the epithet in its most friendly sense) no doubt at
their head, smoked and punned plentifully on this occasion." The arro-
gance of Aldrich exceeded even that of Bentley. Rymer tells further, that
Aldrich was notorious for thus employing his ** young inexperienced stu-
dents;" that he ^* betrayed Mr. Boyle into the controversy, and is still
involving others in the quarrel." Thus he points at the rival chieftains ;
one of whom never appeared in public, but was the great mover behind the
curtain. These lively wits, so deeply busied among the obscurest writers
of antiquity, so much against their will, making up a show of learning
against the formidable array of Bentley, exhilarated themselves in their
dusty labours by a perpetual stimulus of keen humour, playful wit, and
angry invective. No doubt they were often enraged at bearing the yoke
about their luxuriant manes, ploughing the darkest and heaviest soil of
antiquity. They had been reared —
*' Insultare solo, et gressus glomerare superbos."
"Georg." Lib. iii. 117. -
" To insult the ground, and proudly pace the plain."
Trapp.
Swift, in ** The Battle of the Books," who, under his patron. Sir William
Temple, was naturally in alliance with "the Bees," with ingenious ambi-
guity alludes to the glorious manufacture. "Boyle, clad in a suit of
armour, which had been given him by all the Gods." Still the truth was
only floating in rumours and surmises ; and the little that Boyle had done
was not yet known. Lord Orrery, his son, had a difficulty to overcome to
pass lightly over this allusion. The literary honour of the family was at
884 Quarrels of Authors.
selves, they bad sworn to have always " a fling at Bentley,"
and intrigued with their friends to do the same.
They procured Keil, the professor of astronomy, in so grave
a work as "The Theory of the Earth," to have a fling at
Bentley's boasted sagacity in conjectural criticism. Wotton,
in a dignified reproof, administered a spirited correction to
the party-spirit ; while his love of science induced him gene-
rously to commend Keil, and intimate the advantages the
world may derive from his studies, " as he grows older.'*
Even Garth and Pope struck in with the alliance, and con-
descended to pour out rhymes more lasting than even the
prose of " the Bees."
But of all the rabid wits who, fastening on their prey, neVer
drew their fangs from the noble animal, the facetious Dr.
King seems to have been the only one who excited Bentley's
anger. Persevering malice, in the teasing shape of caustic
banter, seems to have affected the spirit even of Bentley.
At one of those conferences which passed between Bentley
and the bookseller, King happened to be present ; and being
called on by Boyle to bear his part in the drama, he per-
formed it quite to the taste of " the Bees." He addressed a
letter to Dean Aldrich, in which he gave one particular :
and, to make up a sufficient dose, dropped some corrosives.
He closes his letter thus : — " That scorn and contempt which
I have naturally for pride and insolence, makes me remember
that which otherwise I might have forgotten." Nothing
touched Bentley more to the quick than reflections on " his
pride and insolence." Our defects seem to lose much of their
character, in reference to ourselves, by habit and natural dis-
position ; yet we have always a painful suspicion of their
existence ; and he who touches them with no tenderness is
never pardoned. The invective of King had all the bitterness
stake, and his filial piety was exemplary to a father, who had unfortu-
nately, in passion, deprived his lordship of the family library — a stroke
from which his sensibility never recovered, and which his enemies ungene-
rously pointed against him. Lord Orrery, with all the tenderness of a
son, and the caution of a politician, observes on '* the armour given by the
Gods" — "I shall not dispute about the gift of the armour. The Gods
never bestowed celestial armour except upon heroes, whose courage and
superior strength distinguished them from the rest of mankind." Most
ingeniously he would seem to convert into a classical fable what was de-
signed as a plain matter of fact !
It does credit to the discernment of Bentley, whose taste was not very
lively in English composition, that he pronounced Boyle was not the author
of the *' Examination," from the variety of styles in it. — p. 107.
Boyle and Bentley, 385
of truth. Bentley applied a Hue from Horace ; which showed
that both Horace and Bentley could pun in anger : —
Proscripti Eegis Rwpili pus atque venenum.* — Sat. i. 7.
The filth and venom of Eupilius King.
The particular incident which King imperfectly recollected,
made afterwards much noise among the wits, for giving them
a new notion of the nature of ancient MSS. King relates
that Dr. Bentley said — " If the MS. were collated, it would
be worth nothing for the future." Bentley, to mortify the
pertness of the bookseller, who would not send his publica-
tions to the Royal Library, had said that he ought to do so,
were it but to make amends for the damage the MS. would
sustain by his printing the various readings ; " for," added
Bentley, " after the various lections were once taken and
printed, the MS. would be like a squeezed orange, and little
worth for the future.''^ Thi^familiar comparison of a MS.
with a squeezed orange provoked the epigrammatists. Bent-
ley, in retorting on King, adds some curious facts concerning
the fate of MSS. after they have been printed ; but is aware,
he says, of what little relish or sense the Doctor has of MSS.,
who is better skilled in " the catalogue of ales, his Humty-
Dumty, Hugmatee, Three-threads, and the rest of that glo-
rious list, than in the catalogue of MSS." King, in his
banter on Dr. Lister's journey to Paris, had given a list of
these English beverages. It was well known that he was in
too constant an intercourse with them all. Bentley nick-
names King through the progress of his Controversy, for his
tavern-pleasures, Humty-Dumty, and accuses him of writing
more in a tavern than in a study. He little knew the injus-
tice of his charge against a student who had written notes on
22,000 books and MSS. ; but they were not Greek ones.
All this was not done with impunity. An irritated wit
only finds his adversary cutting out work for him. A second
letter, more abundant with the same pungent qualities, fell
on the head of Bentley. King says of the arch-critic — " He
thinks meanly, I find, of my reading ; yet for all that, I dare
say I have read more than any man in England besides him
* This short and pointed satire of Horace is merely a pleasant story
about a low wretch of the name of King ; and Brutus, under whose com-
mand he was, is entreated to get rid of him, from his hereditary hatred to
all kings. I suppose this pun must be considered legitimate, otherwise
Horace was an indifferent punster.
OC
386 Quarrels of Authors,
and me; for I have read his book all over."* Nor was this
all; " Humty-Dumty" published eleven "Dialogues of the
Dead," supposed to be written by a student at Padua, con-
cerning " one Bentivoglio, a very troublesome critic in the
world ;" where, under the character of " Signior Moderno,"
Wotton falls into his place. Whether these dialogues morti-
fied Bentley, I know not : they ought to have afforded him
very high amusement. But when a man is at once tickled
and pinched, the operation requires a gentler temper than
Bentley 's. " Humty-Dumty," indeed, had Bentley too often
before him. There was something like inveteracy in his wit;
but he who invented the remarkable index to Boyle's book,
must have closely studied Bentley's character. He has given
it with all its protuberant individuahty.f
Bentley, with his peculiar idiom, had censured " all the
* A keen repartee ! Yet King could read this mighty volume as **a
vain confused performance," but the learned Dqdwell declared to "the
Bees of Christchurch," who looked up to him, that " he had never learned
so much from any book of the size in his life." King was as unjust to
Bentley, as Bentley to King. Men of genius are more subject to '* unna-
tural civil war" than even the blockheads whom Pope sarcastically re-
proaches with it. The great critic's own notion of his volume seems
equally modest and just. ** To undervalue this dispute about ' Phalaris,'
because it does not suit one's own studies, is to quarrel with a circle be-
cause it is not a square. If the question be not of vulgar use, it was writ
therefore for a few ; for even the greatest performances, upon the most
important subjects, are no entertainment at all to the many of the world.''*
—p. 107.
+ This index, a very original morsel of literary pleasantry, is at once a
satirical character of the great critic, and what it professes to be. I pre-
serve a specimen among the curiosities I am collecting. It is entitled —
"A Short Account of Dr. Bentley, by way of Index.
** Dr. Bentley's true story proved false, by the testimonies of, &c., p. —
*' His civil language, p. —
*' His nice taste,
in wit, p. —
in style, p. —
in Greek, p. —
in Latin, p. —
in English, p. —
"His modesty and decency in contradicting great
men" — a very long list of authors, concluding
with ^ Everybody,' -p. —
"His familiar acquaintance with books he never
saw," p. —
" And lastly, "his profound skill in criticism— from
beginning to The End."
Which thus terminates the volume.
Boyle and Bentley, 387
stiffness and stateliness, and operoseness of style, quite alien
from the character of ' Phalaris,' a man of business and de-
spatch." Boyle keenly turns his own words on Bentley.
" Stiffness and stateliness, and operoseness of style, is indeed
quite alien from tlie character of a man of business ; and
being but a lihrary-heeper, it is not over-modestly done, to
oppose his judgment and taste to that of Sir William
Temple, who knows more of these things than Dr. Bentley does
of Hesychius and Suidas. Sir William Temple has spent a
good part of his life in transacting affiiirs of state : he has
written to kings, and they to him ; and this has qualified
him to judge how kings should write, much better than the
library-keener at St. James' s.^^ — This may serve as a specimen
of the Attic style of the controversy. Hard words some-
times passed. Boyle complains of some of the similes which
Bentley employs, more significant than elegant. For the
new readings of " Phalaris," " he likens me to a bungling
tinker mending old kettles." Correcting the faults of the
version, he says, "The first epistle cost me four pages in
scouring ;" and, " by the help of a Greek proverb, he calls
me downright ass." But while Boyle complains of these
sprinklings of ink, he himself contributes to Bentley's " Col-
lection of Asinine Proverbs," and " throws him in one out
of Aristophanes," of " an ass carrying mysteries :" " a pro-
verb," says Erasmus, (as 'the Bees' construe him,) "applied
to those who were preferred to some place they did not de-
serve, as when a dunce was made a library-keejper.'^
Some ambiguous threats are scattered in the volume, while
others are more intelligible. When Bentley, in his own de-
fence, had referred to the opinions which some learned
foreigners entertained of him — they attribute these to " the
foreigners, because they are foreigners — we, that have the
happiness of a nearer conversation with him, know him
better ; and we may perhaps take an opportunity of setting
these mistaken strangers right in their opinions." They
threaten him with his character, " in a tongue that will last
longer, and go further, than their own;" and, in the impe-
rious style of Festus, add : — " Since Dr. Bentley has ap-
pealed to foreign universities, to foreign universities he must
go." Yet this is light, compared with the odium they would
raise against him by the menace of the resentments of a
whole society of learned men.
" Single adversaries die and drop off; but societies are im*
cc2
388 Quarrels of Authors,
mortal : their resentments are sometimes delivered down from
hand to hand ; and when once they have begun with a man,
there is no knowing when they will leave him."
In reply to this Hterary anathema, Bentley was furnished,
hy*his familiarity with his favourite authors, with a fortunate
application of a term, derived from Phalaris himself. Cicero
had conveyed his idea of Caesar's cruelty by this term, which
he invented from the very name of the tyrant.*
" There is a certain temper of mind that Cicero calls
FJialarism ; a spirit like Phalaris's. One would be apt to
imagine that a portion of it had descended upon some of his
translators. The gentleman has given a broad hint more
than once in his book, that if I proceed further against Pha-
laris, I may draw, perhaps, a duel, or a stab upon myself;
a generous threat to a divine, who neither carries arms nor
principles fit for that sort of controversy. I expected such
usage from the spirit of Phalarism."
In this controversy, the amusing fanoy of "the Bees"
could not pass by Phalaris without contriving to make some
use of that brazen bull by which he tortured men alive. Not
satisfied in their motto, from the Earl of Eoscommon, with
wedging " the great critic, like Milo, in the timber he strove
to rend," they gave him a second death in their finis, by
throwing Bentley into Phalaris's bull, and flattering their
vain imaginations that they heard him " bellow."
"He has defied Phalaris, and used him very coarsely, under
the assurance, as he tells us, that ' he is out of his reach.'
Many of Phalaris's enemies thought the same thing, and
repented of their vain confidence afterwards in his lull. Dr.
Bentley is perhaps, by this time, or will be suddenly, satisfied
that he also has presumed a little too much upon his distance ;
but it will bfe too late to repent when he begins to bellow."t
Bentley, although the solid force of his mind was not
favourable to the lighter sports of wit, yet was not quite
destitute of those airy qualities ; nor does he seem insensible
to the literary merits of "that odd work," as he calls Boyle's
volume, which he conveys a very good notion of; — "If his
* Cicero ad Atticum, Lib. vii., Epist. xii.
f No doubt this idea was the origin of that satirical Capriccio, which
closed in a most fortunate pun — a literary caricature, where the doctor is
represented in the hands of Phalaris's attendants, who are putting him
into the tyrant's bull, while Bentley exclaims, "I had rather be roasted
\h3,n Boylcd.''
Boyle and Bentley. 389
book shall happen to be preserved anywhere as an useful
commonplace book for ridicule, banter, and all the topics ot
calumny." With equal di'^nity and sense he observes on the
ridicule so freely used by both parties — " I am content that
what is the greatest virtue of his book should be counted the
greatest fault of mine."
His reply to " Milo's fate," and the tortures he was sup-
posed to pass through when thrown into Phalaris's bull, is a
piece of sarcastic humour which will not suffer by comparison
with the volume more celebrated for its wit.
" The facetious examiner seems resolved to vie with Pha-
laris himself in the science of Phalarism ; for his revenge is
not satisfied with one single death of his adversary, but he
will kill me over and over again. He has slain me twice by
two several deaths ! one, in the first page of his book ; and
another, in the last. In the title-page I die the death of
Milo, the Crotonian : —
Remember Milo's end,
Wedged in that timber which he strove to rend.
" The application of which must be this : — That as Milo,
after his victories at six several Olympiads, was at last con-
quered and destroyed in wrestling with a tree, so I, after I
had attained to some small reputation in letters, am to be
quite baffled and run down by wooden antagonists. But in
the end of his book he has got me into Phalaris's bull, and
he has the pleasure of fancying that he hears me hegin to
hellow. Well, since it is certain that I am in the bull, I
have performed the part of a sufferer. For as the cries of
the tormented in old Phalaris's bull, being conveyed through
pipes lodged in the machine, were turned into music for the
Entertainment of the tyrant, so the complaints which my
torments express from me, being conveyed to Mr. Boyle by
this answer, are all dedicated to his pleasure and diversion.
But yet, methinks, when he was setting up to be Phalaris
junior, the very omen of it might have deterred him. As the
old tyrant himself at last bellowed in his own bull, his
imitators ought to consider that at long run their own
actions may chance to overtake them." — p. 43.
Wit, however, enjoyed the temporary triumph ; not but
that some, in that day, loudly protested against the award.*
* Sir Richard Blackmore, in his bold attempt at writing "A Satire
against Wit," in utter defiance of it, without any, however, conveys some
390 Quarrels of Authors,
"The Episode of Bentley and Wotton," in "The Battle of
the Books," is conceived with all the caustic imagination of
the first of our prose satirists. There Bentley's great quali-
ties are represented as " tall; without shape or comeliness ;
large, without strength or proportion." His various erudi-
tion, as "armour patched up of a thousand incoherent pieces ;"
his book, as " the sound " of that armour, " loud and dry, like
that made by the fall of a sheet of lead from the roof of some
steeple ;" his haughty intrepidity, as "a vizor of brass, tainted
by his breath, corrupted into copperas, nor wanted gall from
the same fountain ; so that, whenever provoked by anger or
labour, an atramentous quality of most malignant nature was
seen to distil from his lips." Wotton is " heavy-armed and
slow of foot, lagging behind." They perish together in one
ludicrous death. Boyle, in his celestial armour, by a stroke
of his weapon, transfixes both "the lovers," "as a cook
trusses a brace of woodcocks, with iron skewer piercing the
tender sides of both. Joined in their lives, joined in their
death, so closely joined, that Charon would mistake them
both for one, and waft them over Styx for half his fare."
Such is the candour of wit! The great qualities of an ad-
versary, as in Bentley, are distorted into disgraceful attitudes ;
while the suspicious virtues of a friend, as in Boyle, not passed
over in prudent silence, are ornamented with even spurious
panegyric.
Garth, catching the feeling of the time, sung —
And to a Bentley 'tis we owe a Boyle.
Posterity justly appreciates the volume of Bentley for its
stores of ancient literature ; and the author, for that peculiar
sagacity in emending a corrupt text, which formed his dis-
tinguishing characteristic as a classical critic ; and since his
book but for this literary quarrel had never appeared, reverses
;he names in the verse of the " Satirist."
opinions of the times. He there paints the great critic, " crowned with
applause," seated amidst " the spoOs of ruined wits :"
" Till his rude strokes had thresh'd the empty sheaf,
Methought there had been something else than chaff."
Boyle, not satisfied with the undeserved celebrity conceded to his volume,
ventured to write poetry, in which no one appears to have suspected the
aid of " The Bees"—
" See a fine scholar sunk by wit in Boyle !
After his foolish rhymes, both friends and foes
Conclude they know who did not write Ms prose. ''^
A Satire against Wit»
PARKER, AND MARVELL.
Marvell the founder of "a newly-refined art of jeering buffoonery" — Ms
knack of nicknaming his adversaries — Parker's Portrait — Parker sud-
denly changes his principles — his declamatory style —Marvell prints his
anonymous letter as a motto to "The Rehearsal Transprosed" — describes
him as an *' At-all" — Marvell's ludicrous description of the whole posse
of answers summoned together by Parker — Marvell's cautious allusion
to Milton — his solemn invective against Parker — anecdote of Marvell
and Parker — Parker retires after the second part of "The Rehearsal
Transprosed" — The Recreant, reduced to silence, distils his secret ven-
geance in a posthumous libel.
OiSE of the legitimate ends of satire, and one of the proud
triumphs of genius, is to unmask the false zealot ; to beat
back the haughty spirit that is treading down all ; and if it
cannot teach modesty, and raise a blush, at least to inflict
terror and silence. It is then that the satirist does honour
to the office of the executioner.
As one whose whip of steel can with a lash
Imprint the characters of shame so deep,
Even in the brazen forehead of proud Sin,
That not eternity shall wear it out.*
The quarrel between Paekeb and Maeyell is a striking
example of the efficient powers of genius, in first humbling,
and then annihilating, an unprincipled bravo, who had placed
himself at the head of a faction.
Marvell, the under-secretary and the bosom-friend of Milton,
whose fancy he has often caught in his verse, was one of the
greatest wits of the luxuriant age of Charles II. ; he was a
master in all the arts of ridicule ; and his inexhaustible spirit
only required some permanent subject to have rivalled the
causticity of Swift, whose style, in neatness and vivacity,
seems to have been modelled on his.f But Marvell placed
* Randolph's Muses' Loohing -glass. Act 1, Scene 4.
+ Swift certainly admired, if he did not imitate Marvell : for in his
** Tale of a Tub" he says, ** We still read Marvell's answer to Parker with
pleasure, though the book it answers be sunk long ago."
392 Quarrels of Authors,
the oblation of genius on a temporary altar, and the sacrifice
sunk with it ; he wrote to the times, and with the times his
writings have passed away ; yet something there is incorrup-
tible in wit, and wherever its salt has fallen, that part is still
preserved.
Such are the vigour and fertility of Marvell's writings, that
our old Chronicler of Literary History, Anthony Wood, con-
siders him as the founder of " the then newly-refined art
(though much in mode and fashion almost ever since) of
sportive and jeering buffoonery ;"* and the crabbed humorist
describes " this pen-combat as briskly managed on both sides ;
a jerking flirting way of writing entertaining the reader, by
seeing two such right cocks of the game so keenly engaging
with sharp and dangerous weapons." — Burnett calls Marvell
" the liveliest droll of the age, who writ in a burlesque strain,
but with so peculiar and entertaining a conduct, that from
the king to the tradesman, his books were read with great
pleasure." Charles II. was a more polished judge than these
uncouth critics; and, to the credit of his impartiality, — for that
* This is a curious remark of Wood's : How came raillery and satire to
be considered as " a newly- refined art ?" Has it not, at all periods, been
prevalent among every literary people ? The remark is, however, more
founded on truth than it appears, and arose from Wood's own feelings.
Wit and Raillery had been so strange to us during the gloomy period of the
fanatic Commonwealth, thai honest Anthony, whose prejudices did not run
in favour of Marvell, not only considers him as the " restorer of this newly-
refined art," but as one "hugely versed in it," and acknowledges all its
efficacy in the complete discomfiture of his haughty rival. Besides this, a
small booJc of controversy, such as Marvell's usually are, was another
novelty — the "aureoli libelli," as one fondly calls his precious books, were
in the wretched taste of the times, rhapsodies in folio. The reader has
doubtless heard of Garyll's endless "Commentary on Job," consisting of 2400
folio pages ! in small type. Of that monument of human perseverance,
which commenting on Job's patience, inspired what few works do to who-
ever read them, the exercise of the virtue it inculcated, the publisher, in his
advertisement in Clavel's Catalogue of Books, 1681, announces the two
folios in 600 sheets each ! these were a republication of the first edition, in
twelve volumes quarto ! he apologises "that it hath been so long a doing^
to the great vexation and loss of the proposer." He adds, "indeed, some
few lines, no more than what may be contained in a quarto page, are
expunged, they not relating to the Exposition, which nevertheless some,
by malicious prejudice, have so unjustly aggravated, as if the whole work
had been disordered." He apologises for curtailing a few lines from 2400
folio pages \ and he considered that these few lines were the only ones that
did not relate to the Exposition ! At such a time, the little books of Marvell
must have been considered as relishing morsels after such indigestible
surfeits.
Parker and MarvelL 893
witty monarch and his dissolute court were never spared hy
MarvelljWho remained inflexible to his seduction — he deemed
Marvell the best prose satirist of the age. But Marvell had
other qualities than the freest humour and the finest wit in
this " newly-refined art," which seems to have escaped these
grave critics — a vehemence of solemn reproof, and an elo-
quence of invective, that awes one with the spirit of the
modern Junius,* and may give some notion of that more
ancient satirist, whose writings are said to have so completely
answered their design, that, after perusal, their victim hanged
himself on the first tree ; and in the present case, though the
delinquent did not lay violent hands on himself, he did what,
for an author, may be considered as desperate a course,
" withdraw from the town, and cease writing for some
years."t
The celebrated work here to be noticed is Marvell's " Re-
hearsal Transprosed ; " a title facetiously adopted from Bayes
in "The Rehearsal Transposed" of the Duke of Bucking-
ham. It was written against the works and the person of
Dr. Samuel Parker, afterwards Bishop of Oxford, whom he
designates under the character of Bayes, to denote the inco-
herence and ridiculousness of his character. Marvell had a
pecuHar knack of calling names, — it consisted in appropria-
* The severity of his satire on Charles's court may be well understood by
the following lines : —
"A colony of French possess the court,
Pimps, priests, buflfoons, in privy-chamber sport ;
Such slimy monsters ne'er approached a throne
Since Pharaoh's days, nor so defil'd a crown ;
In sacred ear tyrannick arts they croak,
Pervert his mind, and good intentions choak."
"The Historical Poem," given in the poems on State affairs, is so per-
sonal in its attacks on the vices of Charles, that it is marvellous how its
author escaped punishment. " Hodge's Vision from the Monument" is
equally strong, while the "Dialogue between two Horses" (that of the
statue of Charles I. at Charing- cross, and Charles II., then in the city),
has these two strong lines of regret : —
** to see Deo Gratias writ on the throne,
And the king's wicked life say God there is none."
The satire ends with the question : —
" But canst thou devise when things will be mended?"
Which is thus answered : —
" When the reign of the line of the Stuarts is ended !" — Ed.
t So Burnet tells us.
394 Quarrels of Authors.
ting a ludicrous character in some popular comedy, and
dubbing his adversaries with it. In the same spirit he ridi-
culed Dr. Turner, of Cambridge, a brother-genius to Parker,
by nicknaming him "Mr. Smirk, the Divine in Mode," the
name of the Chaplain in Etherege's "Man of Mode," and thus,
by a stroke of the pen, conveyed an idea of " a neat, starched,
formal, and forward divine." This application of a fictitious
character to a real one, this christening a man with ridicule,
though of no difficult invention, is not a little hazardous to
inferior writers ; for it requires not less wit than Marvell'sto
bring out of the real character the ludicrous features which
mark the factitious prototype.
Parker himself must have his portrait, and if the likeness
be justly hit off, some may be reminded of a resemblance.
Mason applies the epithet of "Mitred Dullness " to him: but
although he was at length reduced to raihng and to menaces,
and finally mortified into silence, this epithet does not suit so
hardy and so active an adventurer.
The secret history of Parker may be collected in Marvell,*
and his more public one in our honest chronicler, Anthony
Wood. Parker was originally educated in strict sectarian
principles ; a starch Puritan, " fasting and praying with the
Presbyterian students weekly, and who, for their refection
feeding only on thin broth made of oatmeal and water, were
commonly called Gruellersy Among these, says Marvell,
" it was observed that he was wont to put more graves than
all the rest into his porridge, and was deemed one of the
p7'eciousest-\ young men in the University." It seems that
these mortified saints, both the brotherhood and the sister-
hood, held their chief meetings at the house of " Bess Hamp-
ton, an old and crooked maid that drove the trade of laundry,
who, being from her youth very much given to the godly
party, as they call themselves, had frequent meetings, es-
pecially for those that were her customers." Such is the
dry humour of honest Anthony, who paints like the Ostade
of literary history.
But the age of sectarism and thin gruel was losing all its
coldness in the sunshine of the Restoration ; and this " pre-
ciousest young man," from praying and caballing against
* See " The Rehearsal Transprosed, the second part," p. 76.
+ One of the canting terms used by the saints of those days, and not
obsolete in the dialect of those who still give themselves out to be saints in
the present.
Parker and Marvell, 395
episcopacy, suddenly acquainted the world, in one of his dedi-
cations, that Dr. llalph Bathurst had " rescued him from the
chains and fetters of an unhappy education," and, without
any intermediate apology, from a sullen sectarian turned a
flaming highflyer for the "supreme dominion" of the Church.*
It is the after-conduct of Parker that throws light on this
rapid change. On speculative points any man may be sud-
denly converted ; for these may depend on facts or arguments
which might never have occurred to him before. But when
we watch the weathercock chopping with the wind, so pliant
to move, and so stiff" when fixed — when we observe this " pre-
ciousest grueller" clothed in purple, and equally hardy in the
most opposite measures — become a favourite with James II.,
and a furious advocate for arbitrary power ; when we see him
railing at and menacing those, among whom he had com-
mitted as many extravagances as any of them ;t can we
* Marvell admirably describes Parker's journey to London at the Re-
storation, where "he spent a considerable time in creeping into all corners
and companies, horoscoping up and down concerning the duration of the
government." This term, so expressive of his political doubts, is from
*' Judicial Astrology," then a prevalent study. ** Not considering anything
as best, but as most lasting and most profitable ; and after having many
times cast a figure, he at last satisfied himself that the episcopal govern-
ment would endure as long as this king lived, and from thenceforwards
cast about to find the highway to preferment. To do this, he daily en-
larged not only his conversation but his conscience, and was made free of
some of the town vices ; imagining, like Muleasses, King of Tunis (for I take
witness that on all occasions I treat him rather above his quality than
otherwise), that by hiding himself among the onions he should escape being
traced by his perfumes." The nairative proceeds with a curious detail of
all his sycophantic attempts at seducing useful patrons, among whom was
the Archbishop of Canterbury. Then began "those pernicious books,"
says Marvell, "in which he first makes all that he will to be law, and
then whatsoever is law, to be divinity." Parker, in his "Ecclesiastical
Polity," came at length to promulgate such violent principles as these,
"He openly declares his submission to the government of a Nero and a
Caligula, rather than suffer a dissolution of it." He says, "it is abso-
lutely necessary to set up a more severe government over men's consciences
and religious persuasions than over their vices and immoralities ;" and that
" men's vices and debaucheries may be more safely indulged than their
consciences." Is it not difficult to imagine that this man had once been au
Independent, the advocate for every congregation being independent of a
bishop or a synod ?
+ Parker's father was a lawyer, and one of Oliver's most submissive
sub-committee men, who so long pillaged the nation and spilled its blood,
" not in the hot and military way (which diminishes always the offence),
but in the cooler blood and sedentary execution of an high court of jus-
tice." He wrote a very remarkable book (after he had been petitioned
396 Quarrels of Authors.
hesitate to decide that this hold, haughty, and ambitious man
was one of those who, having neither religion nor morality
for a casting weight, can easily fly off to opposite extremes ?
and whether a puritan or a bishop, we must place his zeal
to the same side of his religious ledger — that of the profits of
barter !
The quarrel between Parker and Marvell originated in a
preface,* written by Parker, in which he had poured down
his contempt and abuse on his old companions, the Non-
conformists. It was then Marvell clipped his wings with his
"Rehearsal Transprosed ;" his wit and humour were finely
contrasted with Parker's extravagances, set off in his de-
clamatory style; of which Marvell wittily describes "the
volume and circumference of the periods, which, though he
takes always to be his chiefest strength, yet, indeed, like too
great a line, weakens the defence, and requires too many men
to make it good." The tilt was now opened, and certain
masqued knights appeared in the course ; they attempted to
grasp the sharp and polished weapon of Marvell, to turn it
on himself. t But Marvell, with malicious ingenuity, sees
Parker in them all — they so much resembled their master !
"There were no less," saj'^s the wit, " than six scaramouches
together on the stage, all of them of the same gravity and
behaviour, the same tone, the same habit, that it was impos-
sible to discern which was the true author of the ' Ecclesiasti-
against for a misdemeanour) in defence of that usurped irregular state
called *' The Government of the People of England." It had "a most
hieroglyphical title" of several emblems : two hands joined, and beneath a
sheaf of arrows, stuffed about with half-a-dozen mottoes, "enough," says
Marvell, *' to have supplied the mantlings and achievement of this (godly)
family." An anecdote in this secret history of Parker is probably true.
*' He shortly afterwards did inveigh against his father's memory, and in
his mother's presence, before witnesses, for a couple of whining fanatics."
— Rehearsal Transprosed, second part, p. 75.
* This preface was prefixed to Bishop Bramhall's "Vindication of the
Bishops from the Presbyterian Charge of Popery."
+ As a specimen of what old Anthony calls "a jerking flirting way of
writing," I transcribe the titles of these answers which Marvell received.
As Marvell had jiicknamed Parker, Bayes, the quaint humour of one en-
titled his reply, "Rosemary and Bayes;" another, "The Transproser
Rehearsed, or the Fifth Act of Mr. Bayes' s Play;" another, "Gregory
Father Greybeard, with his Vizard off;" another formed "a Commonplace
Book out of the Rehearsal, digested under heads ;" and lastly, "Stoo him
Bayes, or some Animadversions on the Humour of writing Rehearsals." —
Biog. Brit. p. 3055.
This was the very Bartlemy-fair of wit !
Parker and MarvelL S97
cal Polity.' I believe he imitated the wisdom of some other
princes, who have sometimes been persuaded by their servants
to disguise several others in the regal garb, that the enemy
might not know in the battle whom to single." Parker, in
fact, replied to Marvell anonymously, by " A Reproof to the
Kehearsal Transprosed," with a mild exhortation to the
magistrate to crush with the secular arm the pestilent wit,
the servant of Cromwell, and the friend of Milton. But this
was not all ; something else, anonymous too, was despatched to
Marvell : it was an extraordinary letter, short enough to have
been an epigram, could Parker have written one ; but short as
it was, it was more in character, for it was only a threat of
assassination ! It concluded with these words : " If thou
darest to print any lie or libel against Dr. Parker, by the
Eternal God I will cut thy throat." Marvell replied to "the
Eeproof," which he calls a printed letter, by the second part
of " the Rehearsal Transprosed ;" and to the unprinted letter,
by publishing it on his own title-page.
Of two volumes of wit and broad humour, and of the most
galling invective, one part flows so much into another, that
the volatile spirit would be injured by an analytical process.
But Marvell is now only read by the curious lovers of our
literature, who find the strong, luxuriant, though not the
delicate, wit of the wittiest age, never obsolete : the reader
shall not, however, part from Marvell without some slight
transplantations from a soil whose rich vegetation breaks out
in every part.
Of the pleasantry and sarcasm, these may be considered as
specimens. Parker was both author and licenser of his own
work on " Ecclesiastical Polity ;" * and it appears he got the
licence for printing Mar veil's first Beliearsal recalled. The
Church appeared in danger when the doctor discovered he was
so furiously attacked. Marvell sarcastically rallies him on his
dual capacity : —
" He is such an At-all^ of so many capacities, that he would
excommunicate any man who should have presumed to inter-
meddle with any one of his provinces. Has he been an
author ? he is too the licenser. Has he been a father ? he
will stand too for godfather. Had he acted FyramuSj he
* The title will convey some notion of its intolerant principles: "A
Discourse of Ecclesiastical Polity, wherein the authority of the Civil Ma-
gistrate over the Consciences of Subjects, in matters of external Keligion,
398 Quarrels of Authors,
would have been Moonshine too, and the Hole in the Wall.
That first author of ' Ecclesiastical PoHty/ (such as his) Nero,
was of the same temper. He could not be contented with
the Roman empire, unless he were too his own precentor; and
lamented only the detriment that mankind must sustain at
his death, in losing so considerable a fiddler."
The satirist describes Parker's arrogance for those whom
Parker calls the vulgar, and whom he defies as " a rout of
wolves and tigers, apes and buffoons ;" yet his personal fears
are oddly contrasted with his self-importance : " If he chance
but to sneeze, he prays that the foundations of the earth be
not shaken. — Ever since he crept up to be but the iveather-
coch of a steeple, he trembles and cracks at every puff of wind
that blows about him, as if the Church of England were fall-
ing." Parker boasted, in certain philosophical " Tentamina,"
or essays of his, that he had confuted the atheists : Marvell
declares, " If he had reduced any atheist by his book, he can
only pretend to have converted them (as in the old Florentine
wars) by mere tiring them out, and perfect weariness." A
pleasant allusion to those mock fights of the Italian mercena-
ries, who, after parading all day, rarely unhorsed a single
cavalier.
Marvell blends with a ludicrous description of his answerers
great fanc}^ : —
" The whole Posse Archidiaconatus was raised to repress
me ; and great rising there was, and sending post every way
to pick out the ablest ecclesiastical droles to prepare an
answer. Never was such a hubbub made about a sorry book.
One flattered himself with being at least a surrogate ; another
was so modest as to set up with being but a paritor ; while
the most generous hoped only to be graciously smiled upon
at a good dinner; butthe more hungry starvelings generally
looked upon it as an immediate call to a benefice ; and he
that could but write an answer, whatsoever it were, took it
for the most dexterous, cheap, and legal way of simony. As
is usual on these occasions, there arose no small competition
and mutiny among the pretenders."
It seems all the body had not impudence enough, and had
too nice consciences, and could not afford an extraordinary
expense in wit for the occasion. It was then
" The author of the ' Ecclesiastical Polity * altered his
lodgings to a calumny-office, and kept open chamber for all
comers, that he might be supplied himself, or supply others,
Parker and Marvell. 399
as there was occasion. But the information came in so slen-
derly, that he was glad to make use of anything rather than
sit ut ; and there was at last nothing so slight, but it grew
material ; nothing so false, but he resolved it should go for
truth ; and what wanted in matter, he would make out with
invention and artifice. So that he and his remaining com-
rades seemed to have set up a glass-house, the model of which
he had observed from the height of his window in the neigh-
bourhood, and the art he had been initiated into ever since
from the manufacture (he will criticise because not orifacture)
of soap-hulhles, he improved bj degrees to the mystery of
making glass-drops, and thence, in running leaps, mounted by
these virtues to be Fellow of the Royal Society, Doctor of
Divinity, Parson, Prebend, and Archdeacon. The furnace was
so hot of itself, that there needed no coals, much less any
one to blow them. One burnt the weed, another calcined the
flint, a third melted down that mixture ; but he himself
fashioned all with his breath, and polished with his style, till,
out of a mere jelly of sand and ashes, he had furnished a
whole cupboard of things, so brittle and incoherent, that
the least touch would break them again in pieces, and so
transparent, that every man might see through them."
Parker had accused Marvell with having served Cromwell,
and being the friend of Milton, then living, at a moment
when such an accusation not only rendered a man odious, but
put his life in danger.* Marvell, who now perceived that
Milton, whom he never looked on but with the eyes of reve-
rential awe, was likely to be drawn into his quarrel, touches
on this subject with infinite delicacy and tenderness, but not
with diminished energy against his malignant adversary,
whom he shows to have been an impertinent intruder in
Milton's house, where indeed he had first known him. He
cautiously alludes to our English Homer by his initials : at
that moment the very name of Milton would have tainted
the page !
i "J. M. was, and is, a man of great learning and sharpness
of wit, as any man. It was his misfortune, living in a
* Milton had become acquainted with Marvell when travelling in Italy,
where he had gone to perfect his studies. He returned to England in
1653, and was connected with the Cromwellian party, through the intro-
duction of Milton, in 1657. The great poet was at that time secretary to
Cromwell, and he became his assistant-secretary. He afterwards repre-
sented his native town of Hull in Parliament. — Ed.
400 Quarrels of Authors.
tumultuous time, to be tossed on the wrong side ; and he writ,
flagrante hello, certain dangerous treatises. But some of his
books, upon which you take him at advantage, were of no
other nature than that one writ by your own father ; only
with this difference, that your father's, which I have by me,
was written with the same design, but with much less wit or
judgment, for which there was no remedy, unless you will
supply his judgment with his high Court of Justice. At his
Majesty's happy return, J. M. did partake, even as you your-
self did, for all your huffing, of his royal clemency, and has
ever since expiated himself in a retired silence. "Whether it
were my foresight, or my good fortune, I never contracted
any friendship or confidence with you ; but then it was you
frequented J. M. incessantly, and haunted his house day by
day. What discourses you there used, he is too generous to
remember. But for you to insult over his old age, to traduce
him by your scaramouches, and in your own person, as a
schoolmaster, who was born and hath lived more ingenuously
and liberally than yourself!"
Marvell, when he lays by his playful humour and fertile fancy
for more solemn remonstrances, assumes a loftier tone, and a
severity of invective,from which, indeed,Parker neverrecovered.
Accused by Parker of aiming to degrade the clerical cha-
racter, Marvell declares his veneration for that holy vocation,
and that he reflected even on the failings of the men, from
whom so much is expected, with indulgent reverence : —
"Their virtues are to be celebrated with all encourage-
ment ; and if their vices be not notoriously palpable, let the
eye, as it defends its organ, so conceal the object by conni-
vance." But there are cases when even to write satirically
against a clergyman may be not only excusable, but neces-
sary : — " The man who gets into the church by the belfry or
the window, ought never to be borne in the pulpit ; and so
the man who illustrates his own corrupt doctrines with as ill
a conversation, and adorns the lasciviousness of his life with
an equal petulancy of style and language." — In such a con-
currence of misdemeanors, what is to be done ? The example
and the consequence' so pernicious ! which could not be, " if
our great pastors but exercise the wisdom of common shep-
herds, by parting with one to stop the infection of the whole
flock, when his rottenness grows notorious. Or if our clergy
would but use the instinct of other creatures, and chastise the
blown deer out of their herd, such mischiefs might easily be
Parker and MarvelL 401
remedied. In this case it is that I think a clergyman is laid
open to the pen of any one that knows how to manage it ;
and that every person who has either wit, learning, or so-
briety, is licensed, if debauched, to curb him ; if erroneous,
to catechise him ; and if foul-mouthed and biting, to muzzle
him. Such an one would never have come into the church,
but to take sanctuary ; rather wheresoever men shall find the
footing of so wanton a satyr out of his own bounds, the neigh-
bourhood ought, notwithstanding all his pretended capering
divinity, to hunt him through the woods, with hounds and
horse, home to his harbour."
And he frames an ingenious apology for the freedom of his
humour, in this attack on the morals and person of his ad-
versary : —
" To write against him (says Marvell) is the odiousest task
that ever I undertook, and has looked to me all the while
like the cruelty of a living dissection ; which, however it may
tend to public instruction, and though I have picked out the
noxious creature to be anatomised, yet doth scarce excuse
the offensiveness of the scent and fouling of my fingers : there-
fore, I will here break off abruptly, leaving many a vein not
laid open, and many a passage not searched into. But if I
have undergone the drudgery of the most loathsome part
already (which is his personal character), I will not defraud
myself of what is more truly pleasant, the conflict with, if it
may be so called, his reason."
It was not only in these "pen-combats" that this Literary
Quarrel proceeded ; it seems also to have broken out in the
streets ; for a tale has been preserved of a rencontre, which
shows at once the brutal manners of Parker, and the exquisite
wit of Marvell. Parker meeting Marvell in the streets, the
bully attempted to shove him from the wall : but, even there,
Marvell's agility contrived to lay him sprawling in the ken-
nel ; and looking on him pleasantly, told him to " lie there
for a son of a whore !" Parker complained to the Bishop of
Rochester, who immediately sent for Marvell, to reprimand
him ; but he maintained that the doctor had so called himself,
in one of his recent publications ; and pointing to the preface,
where Parker declares " he is ' a true son of his mother, the
Church of England :' and if you read further on, my lord,
you find he says : ' The Church of England has spawned two
bastards, the Presbyterians and the Congregationists ;' ergo,
my lord, he expressly declares that he is the son of a whore T^
D D
402 Quarrels of Authors,
Although Parker retreated from any further attack, after
the second part of " The Eehearsal Transprosed," he in truth
only suppressed passions to which he was giving vent in
secrecy and silence. That, indeed, was not discovered till a post-
humous work of his appeared, in which one of the most
striking parts is a most disgusting caricature of his old anta-
gonist. Marvell was, indeed, a republican, the pupil of
Milton, and adored his master : but his morals and his man-
ners were Roman — he lived on the turnip of Curtius, and he
would have bled at Philippi. We do not sympathise with
the fierce republican spirit of those unhappy times that
scalped the head feebly protected by a mitre or a crown.
But the private virtues and the rich genius of such a man
are pure from the taint of party. We are now to see how far
private hatred can distort, in its hideous vengeance, the re-
semblance it affects to give after nature. Who could imagine
that Parker is describing Marvell in these words ? —
" Among these insolent revilers of great fame for ribaldry
was one Marvell. From his j^outh he lived in all manner of
wickedness ; and thus, with a singular petulancy from nature,
he performed the office of a satirist for the faction, not so
much from the quickness of his wit, as from the sourness of
his temper. A vagabond, ragged, hungry poetaster, beaten
at every tavern, where he daily received the rewards of his
impudence in kicks and blows.* By the interest of Milton,
to whom he was somewhat agreeable for his malignant wit,
he became the under-secretary to Cromwell's secretary."
And elsewhere he calls him " a drunken buffoon," and asserts
that " he made his conscience more cheap than he had for-
merly made his reputation ;" but the familiar anecdote of
Marvell's political honesty, when, wanting a dinner, he de-
clined *^he gold sent to him by the king, sufficiently replies
to th*r^alumniator. Parker, then in his retreat, seems not
to have been taught anything like modesty by his silence,
as Burnet conjectured ; who says, " That a face of brass must
grow red when it is burnt as his was." It was even then
that the recreant, in silence, was composing the libel, which
his cowardice dared not publish, but which his invincible
malice has sent down to posterity.
* Vanus, pannosus, et famelicus poetaster cenopolis quovis vapulans,
fuste et calce indies petulantiae poenas tulit — are the words in Parker's
**De Rebus sui Temporis Commentariorum," p. 276.
D'AVENA^NT
AND A CLUB OF WITS.
Calamities of Epic Poets— Character and Anecdotes of D'Avenant — at-
tempts a new vein of invention — the Critics marshalled against each
other on the * * Grondibert" — D'Avenant's sublime feelings of Literary Fame
— attacked by a Club of Wits in two books of Verses — the strange
misconception hitherto given respecting the Second Part — various speci-
mens of the Satires on Gondibert, the Poet, and his Panegyrist Hobbes —
the Poet's silence ; and his neglect of the unfinished Epic, while the
Philosoper keenly retorts on the Club, and will not allow of any autho-
rity in Wit.
The memoirs of epic poets, in as far as they relate to the
history of their own epics, would be the most calamitous of
all the suitors of the Muses, whether their works have
reached us, or scarcely the names of the poets. An epic,
which has sometimes been the labour of a life, is the game of
the wits and the critics. One ridicules what is written ; the
other censures for what has not been written : — and it has
happened, in some eminent instances, that the rudest assail-
ants of him who " builds the lofty rhyme," have been his
ungenerous contemporaries. Men, whose names are now en-
deared to us, and who have left their KTHMA E2 AEI, which
Hobbes so energetically translates " a possession for ever-
lasting," have bequeathed an inheritance to posterity, of
which they have never been in the receipt of the revenue.
" The first fruits" of genius have been too often gathejced to
place upon its tomb. Can we believe that Milton did not
endure mortification from the neglect of "evil days," as cer-
tainly as Tasso was goaded to madness by the systematic
frigidity of his critics ? He who is now before us had a mind
not less exalted than Milton or Tasso ; but was so effectually
ridiculed, that he has only sent us down the fragment of a
great work.
One of the curiosities in the history of our poetry, is the
Gondibert of D' Avenant ; and the fortunes and the fate of
this epic are as extraordinary as the poem itself. Never has
dd2
404 Quarrels of Authors,
an author deserved more copious memoirs than the fertility
of this man's genius claims. His life would have exhibited
a moving picture of genius in action and in contemplation.
With all the infirmities of lively passions, he had all the
redeeming virtues of magnanimity and generous affections ;
but with the dignity and the powers of a great genius, falling
among an age of wits, he was covered by ridicule. B'Ave-
nant was a man who had viewed human life in all its shapes,
and had himself taken them. A poet and a wit, the creator
of the English stage with the music of Italy and the scenery
of France ; a soldier, an emigrant, a courtier, and a pohtician:
— he was, too, a state-prisoner, awaiting death with his
immortal poem in his hand ;* and at all times a philosopher !
That hardiness of enterprise which had conducted him
through life, brought the same novelty, and conferred on
him the same vigour in literature.
D'Avenant attempted to open a new vein of invention in
* D'Avenant commenced his poem during his exile at Paris. The pre-
face is dated from the Louvre ; the postscript from Cowes Castle, in the
Isle of Wight, where he was then confined, expecting his immediate exe-
cution. The poem, in the first edition, 1651, is therefore abruptly con-
cluded. There is something very affecting and great in his style on this
occasion. "I am here arrived at the middle of the third book. But it is
high time to strike sail and cast anchor, though I have run but half my
course, when at the helm I am threatened with death ; who, though he
can visit us but once, seems troublesome ; and even in the innocent may
beget such a gravity, as diverts the music of verse. Even in a worthy
design, I shall ask leave to desist, when I am interrupted by so great an
experiment as dying ; — and 'tis an experiment to the most experienced ;
for no man (though his mortifications may be much greater than mine) can
say lie has already died." — D'Avenant is said to have written a letter to
Hobbes about this time, giving some account of his progress in the third
book. " But why (said he) should I trouble you or myself with these
thoughts, when I am pretty certain I shall be hanged next week ?" — A
stroke of the gaiety of temper of a very thoughtful mind ; for D'Avenant,
with all his wit and fancy, has made the profound est reflections on humaa
life.
The reader may be interested to know, that after D'Avenant's removal
from Cowes to the Tower, to be tried, his life was saved by the gratitude
of two aldermen of York, whom he had obliged. It is delightful to be-
lieve the story told by Bishop Newton, that D'Avenant owed his life to
Milton ; Wood, indeed, attributes our poet's escape to both ; at the Re-
storation D'Avenant interposed, and saved Milton. Poets, after all,
envious as they are to a brother, are the most generously -tempered of
men : they libel, but they never hang ; they will indeed throw out a sar-
casm on the man whom they saved from being hanged. *' Please your
Majesty," said Sir John Denham, ** do not hang George Withers — that it
may not be said I am the worst poet alive."
D^Avenant and a Club of Wits, 405
narrative poetry ; which not to call epic, he termed heroic ;
and which we who have more completely emancipated our- 1
selves from the arbitrary mandates of Aristotle and Bossu,)
have since styled romantic. Scott, Southey, and Byron have
taught us this freer scope of invention, but characterised by
a depth of passion which is not found in D' Avenant. In his age,
the title which he selected to describe the class of his poetical
narrative, was a miserable source of petty criticism. It was
decreed that every poem should resemble another poem, on
the plan of the ancient epic. This was the golden age of x
" the poet-apes," till they found that it was easier to produce^
epic writers than epic readers.
But our poet, whose manly genius had rejected one great
absurdity, had the folly to adopt another. The first reformers
are always more heated with zeal than enlightened by
sagacity. The four-and-twenty chapters of an epic, he per-
ceived, were but fantastical divisions, and probably, originally,
but accidental ; yet he proposed another form as chimerical u
he imagined that by having only five he was constructing!
his poem on the dramatic plan of five acts. He might with
equal propriety have copied the Spanish comedy which I once
read, in twenty-five acts, and in no slender folio. " Sea-marks
(says D' Avenant, alluding to the works of antiquity) are
chiefly useful to coasters, and serve not those who have the
ambition of discoverers, that love to sail in untried seas;"
and yet he was attempting to turn an epic poem into a mon-
strous drama, from the servile habits he had contracted from
his intercourse with the theatre ! This error of the poet lias,
however, no material influence on the " Gondibert," as it has
come down to us ; for, discouraged and ridiculed, our
adventurer never finished his voyage of discovery. He v/ho
had so nobly vindicated the freedom of the British Muse from
the meanness of imitation, and clearly defined what such a
narrative as he intended should be, " a perfect glass of nature,
which gives us a familiar and easy view of ourselves," did not
yet perceive that there is no reason why a poetical narrative]
should be cast into any particular form, or be longer or shorter]
than the interest it excites will allow.
More than a centur}'- and a half have elapsed since the first
publication of " Gondibert," and its merits are still a subject of
controversy ; and indubitable proof of some inherent excel-
lence not willingly forgotten. The critics are marshalled on
each side, one against the other, wliile between these formidable
406 Quarrels of Authors,
['.
lines stands the poet, with a few scattered readers ;* but what
is more surprising in the history of the " Gondibert," the poet
is a great poet, the work imperishable !
The " Gondibert " has poetical defects fatal for its popularity ;
the theme was not happily chosen ; the quatrain has been
discovered by capricious ears to be unpleasing, though its
A
* It Aifould form a very curious piece of comparative criticism, were the
opinions and the arguments of all the critics — those of the time and of the
present day — thrown into the smelting-pot. The massiness of some opi-
nions of great authority would be reduced to a thread of wire ; and even
■what is accepted as standard ore might shrink into *' a gilt sixpence."
On one side, the cond emn ers of D'Avenant would be Rymer, Black w all,
Gra nger, knox, Murd, and iiayl ey ; and the advocates would be iloEb es,
Wa ller, Cowley, Dr. Alkm, iieadiev, '^ JtCymer opened his Aristotelian
texf-book! He discovers that the poet's first lines do not give any light '
into his design (it is probable D'Avenant would have found it hard to have
told it to Mr. Rymer) ; that it has neither proposition nor invocation —
(Rymer might have filled these up himself) ; so that "he chooses to enter
into the top of the house, because the mortals of mean and satisfied minds
go in at the door ;" and then "he has no hero or action so illustrious that
the name of the poem prepared the reader for its reception." D'Avenant
had rejected the marvellous from his poem — that is, the machinery of the
epic : he had resolved to compose a tale of human beings for men. "This
was," says Blackwall, another of the classical flock, "like lopping off a
man's limb, and then putting him upon running races." Our formal critics
are quite lively in their dulness on our " adventurer." But poets, in the
crisis of a poetical revolution, are more legitimate judges than all such
critics. Waller and Cowley applaud D'Avenant for this very omission of
the epical machinery in this new vein of invention : —
" Here no bold tales of gods or monsters swell,
But human passions such as with us dwell ;
Man is thy theme, his virtue or his rage,
Drawn to the life in each elaborate page. "
Waller.
** Methinks heroic poesy, till now.
Like some fantastic fairy -land did show,
And all bat man, in mans best work had place.**
Cowley.
Hurd's discussion on "Gondibert," in his " Commentaries," is the most
important piece of criticism ; subtle, ingenious, and exquisitely analytical.
But he holds oat the fetter of authority, and he decides as a judge who
expounds laws ; not the best decision, when new laws are required to
abrogate obsolete ones. And what laws invented by man can be immu-
table ? D'Avenant was thus tried by the laws of a country, that of
Greece or Rome, of which, it is said, he was not even a denizen.
It is remarkable that all the critics who condemn D'Avenant could not
but be struck by his excellences, and are very particular in expressing
their admiration of his genius. I mean all the critics who have read the
poem : some assuredly have criticised with little trouble.
D'Avenant and a Club of Wits. 407
solemnity was felt by Dryden.* The style is sometimes
harsh and abrupt, though often exquisite ; and the fable is
deficient in that rapid interest which the story -loving readers
of all times seem most to regard. All these are diseases
which would have long since proved mortal in a poem less
vital ; but our poet was a commanding genius, who redeemed
his bold errors by his energetic originality. The luxuriancy
of his fancy, the novelty of his imagery, the grandeur of his
views of human life ; his delight in the new sciences of his
age; — these are some of his poetical virtues. But, above all,
we dwell on the impressive solemnity of his philosophical
reflections, and his condensed epigrammatic thoughts. The
work is often more ethical than poetical ; yet, while we feel
ourselves becoming wiser at every page, in the fulness of our
minds we still perceive that our emotions have been seldom
stirred by passion. The poem falls from our hands ! yet is
there none of which we wish to retain so many single verses.
D'Avenant is a poetic al Bochefoucault ; the sententious force of
his maxi ms o n all human a tfairs co uld ^nly have been com posed
by one yyho had~Tived in^a constant intercourse with ma n-
kind^f ~
* It is written in the long four-lined stanzas, which Dryden adopted for .
his Annus Mirabilis j nearly 2000 of such stanzas are severe trials for the A
critical reader. — Ed.
t I select some of these lines as examples. Of Care, who only " seals
her eyes in cloisters," he says,
** She visits cities, but she dwells in thrones."
Of learned Curiosity, eager, but not to be hurried — the student is
" Hasty to know, though not by haste beguiled."
He calls a library, with sublime energy,
** The monument of vanish'd minds."
Never has a politician conveyed with such force a most important precept :
'* The laws.
Men from themselves, but not from power, secure."
Of the Court he says,
" There prosperous power sleeps long, though suitors wake."
** Be bold, for number cancels bashfulness ;
Extremes, from which a King would blushing shrink^
Unblushing senates act as no excess."
And these lines, taken as they occur :
" Truth's a discovery made by travelling minds.*^
*' Honour's the moral conscience of the great." sJ
** They grow so certain as to need no hope." X
** Praise is devotion fit for mighty minds." '
I conclude with one complete stanza, of the same cast of reflection.
408 Quarrels of Authors.
A deliglitful invention in this poem is "the House of
Astragon," a philosophical residence. Every great poet is
affected by the revolutions of his age. The new experimental
philosophy had revived the project of Lord Bacon's learned
retirement, in his philosophical romance of the Atalantis;
knd subsequently in a time of civil repose after civil war,
jVIilton, Cowley, and Evelyn attempted to devote an abode to
science itself. These tumults of the imagination subsided in
the establishment of the Royal Society. D'Avenant antici-
pated this institution. On an estate consecrated to philosophy
stands a retired building on which is inscribed," Great Na-
ture's Office," inhabited by sages, who are styled "Nature's Re-
gisters," busily recording whatever is brought to them by "a
throng of Intelligencers," who make "patient observations"
in the field, the garden, the river, on every plant, and " every
fish, and fowl, and beast." Near at hand is "Nature's
Nursery," a botanical garden. We have also " a Cabinet of
Death," " the Monument of Bodies," an anatomical collection,
which leads to " the Monument of vanished Minds," as the
poet finely describes the library. Is it not striking to find,
says Dr. Aikin, so exact a model of the school of Linnceus ?
Thi-s was a poem to delight a philosopher ; and Hobbes, in
I a curious epistle prefixed to the work, has strongly marked its
\ distinct beauties. " Grondibert " not only came forth with the
I elaborate panegyric of Hobbes, but was also accompanied by
I the high commendatory poems of Waller and Cowley ; a cause
'which will sufficiently account for the provocations it inflamed
among the poetical crew ; and besides these accompaniments,
there is a preface of great length, stamped with all the force
and originality of the poet's own mind ; and a postscript, as
i^ublime from the feelings which dictated it as from the time
and place of its composition.
In these, this great genius pours himself out with all that
" glory of which his large soul appears to have been full," as
Hurd has nobly expressed it.* Such a conscious dignity of
may be inscribed in the library of the student, in the studio of the artist,
in every place where excellence can only be obtained by knowledge.
** Rich are the diligent, who can command
Time, nature's stock ! and, could his hour-glass fall,
Would, as for seed of stars, stoop for the sand,
And by incessant labour gather all !"
* Can one read such passages as these without catching some of the sym-
pathies of a great geuius that knows itself ?
" He who writes an heroic poem leaves an estate entailed, and he gives
D^Avenant and a Club of Wits. 409
character struck the petulant wits with a provoking sense of V
their own littleness.
A club of wits caballed and produced a collection of short
poems sarcas tically entitled " Certam Verses written by several
of the A utHoFsT^ riends, t o be reprint ^^ in th^ Sppmid Edition
of ' Gro ndiber t,' " 1653. Two years after appeared a brothen
volume, entitled " The Incomparable Poem of Gondibert vin-l
dicated from the Wit-Combats of Four Esquires ; Clinias,!
Dametas, Sancho and Jack Pudding ;"* with these mottoes:/
Korsft Kai aoiSog aoid<p.
Vatum quoque gratia, rara est.
Anglice,
One wit-brotlier
Envies another.
a greater gift to posterity than to the present age ; for a public benefit is
best measured in the number of receivers ; and our contemporaries are but
few when reckoned with those who shall succeed.
*' If thou art a malicious reader, thou wilt remember my preface boldly
confessed, that a main motive to the undertaking was a desire of fame ; and
thou mayest likewise say, I may very possibly not live to enjoy it. Truly,
I have some years ago considered that Fame, like Time, only gets a reve-
rence by long running ; and that, like a river, 'tis narrowest where 'tis
bred, and broadest afar off.
*' If thou, reader, art one of those who have been warmed with poetic
fire, I reverence thee as my judge ; and whilst others tax me with vanity,
I appeal to thy conscience whether it be more than such a necessary assur-
ance as thou hast made to thyself in like undertakings ? For when I ob-
serve that writers have many enemies, such inward assurance, methinks,
resembles that forward confidence in men of arms, which makes them pro-
ceed in great enterprise ; since the right examination of abilities begins with
inquiring whether we doubt ourselves."
Such a composition is injured by mutilation. He here also alludes to
his military character : " Nor could I sib idle and sigh with such as mourn
to hear the drum ; for if the age be not quiet enough to be taught virtue
a pleasant way, the next may be at leisure ; nor could I (like men that have
civilly slept till they are old in dark cities) think war a novelty." Shak-
speare could not have expressed his feelings, in his own style, more elo-
quently touching than D'Avenant.
* It is said there were four writers. Th e Olinias and D ?|Tpp.tfl.a wftrft
probably Sir John Dcnham and .To. Donne ; Sir Allan Broderick flnd Will
Croft s, who is mentioned bv the clubs as one of the ir fellows, appear to be th e
Sancho a nd Jack _Pudding. "Will Crofts was a favourite with Charles II : he
had beena skilfulagent, as appears in Clarendon. [In the accounts of moneys
disbursed for secret services in the reign of Charles II., published by the
Camden Society, his name appears for 2001., but that of his wife repeatedly
figures for large sums, " as of free guift." In this way she receives 7001.
with great regularity for a series of years, until the death of Charles II.]
Ho- gell has a poem *' On some who, blf^ r^^J^g t heir brains together, plott ed
how to bespatter one of the Muses' choicest sons, Sir William D'Avenant. '*
410 Quarrels of Authors.
Of these rare tracts, we are told by A nthony Wood and all
subsequent literary historians, too often mere transcribers of
title-pages, that the second was written by our author him-
self. Would not one imagine that it was a real vindication,
or at least a retort-courteous on these obliging friends. The
irony of the whole volume has escaped their discovery. The
second tract is a continuation of the satire : a mock defence,
w^here the sarcasm and the pretended remonstrance are some-
times keener than the open attack. If, indeed, D'Avenant
were the author of a continuation of a satire on himself, it is
an act of felo de se no poet ever committed ; a self-flagella-
tion by an iron whip, where blood is drawn at every stroke,
the most penitent bard never inflicted on himself Would
D'Avenant have bantered his proud labour, by calling it " in-
i comparable ?" And were it true, that he felt the strokes of
I their witty malignity so lightly, would he not have secured his
triumph by finishing that "Gondibert," "the monument of his
mind ?" It is too evident that this committee of wits hui't
the quiet of a great mind.
As for this series of literary satires, it might have been
expected, that since the wits clubbed, this committee ought to
have been more effective in their operations. Many of their
papers were, no doubt, more blotted with their wine than their
ink. Their variety of attack is playful, sarcastic, and malicious.
They were then such exuberant wits, that they could make even
ribaldry and grossness witty. My business with these wicked
trifles is only as they concerned the feelings of the great poet,
whom they too evidently hurt, as well as the great philosopher
who condescended to notice these wits, with wit more digni-
fied than their own.
Unfortunately for our "jeered Will," as in their usual court-
style thej call him, he had met with "a fooUsh mischance,"
well known among the collectors of our British portraits.
There was a feature in his face, or rather no feature at all, that
served as a perpetual provocative : there was no precedent of
such a thing, says Suckling, in "The Sessi ons o f the Poets " —
In all their records, in verse or in prose,
There was none of a Laureat who wanted a nose.
Besides, he was now doomed-
Nor could old
Defend him fr
The preface of "Grondibert," the critical epistle of Hobbes,
Nor could old Hobhes
Defend him from dry bobbs.
lyAvenant and a Club of Wits, 411
and the poems of the two greatest poets in England, were first
to be got rid of. The attack is brisk and airy.
UPON THE PREFACE.
Room for the best of poets heroic,
If you'll believe two wits and a Stoic.
Down go the Iliads, down go the ^neidos:
All must give place to the Gondiherteidos.
For to Homer and Virgil he has a just pique.
Because one's writ in Latin, the other in Greek j
Besides an old grudge (our critics they say so)
With Ovid, because his sirname was Naso.
If fiction the fame of a poet thus raises,
What poets are you that have writ his praises ?
But we justly quarrel at this our defeat;
You give us a stomach, he gives us no meat.
A preface to no book, a porch to no house ;
Here is the mountain, but where is the mouse ?
This stroke, in the mock defence, is thus warded off, with a
shght confession of the existence of " the mouse.'*
Why do you bite, you men of fangs
(That is, of teeth that forward hangs),
And charge my dear Ephestion
With want of meat ? you want digestion.
We poets use. not so to do,
To find men meat and stomach too.
You have the book, you have the house,
And mum, good Jack, and catch the mouse.
Among the personal foibles of D'Avenant appears a desire
to disguise his humble origin ; and to give it an air of lineal
descent, he probably did not write his name as his father had
done. It is said he affected, at the cost of his mother's
honour, to insinuate that he was the son of Shakspeare, who
used to bait at his father's inn.* These humorists first reduce
D'Avenant to " Old Daph."
• The story was current in D'Avenant's time, and it is certain he
encouraged the believers in its truth. Anthony Wood speaks of the lady
as *' a very beautiful woman, of a good wit and conversation, in which she
was imitated by none of her children but by this William." He also notes
Shakspeare's custom to lodge at the Crown Inn, Oxford, kept by her hus-
band, ** in his journies between Warwickshire and London." Aubrey tells
the same tale, adding that D'Avenant *' would sometimes, when he was
pleasant over a glass of wine with his most intimate friends, e. g. Sam.
Butler (author of " Hudibras," &c.,) say, that it seemed to him that he writ
with the very same spirit that Shakspeare did, and was contented enough/
to be thought his son ;" he adds that '* his mother had a very light report."/
It was Pope who told Oldys the jesting story he had obtained from Betterton,)
of little Will running from school to meet Shakspeare, in one of his visita
412 Quarrels of Authors,
Dentam, come help me to laugh,
At old Daph,
Whose fancies are higher than chaff.
Daph swells afterwards into " Daphne ;" a change of sex
inflicted on the poet for making one of his heroines a man ;
and this new alliance to Apollo becomes a source of perpetual
allusion to the bays —
Cheer up, small wits, now you shall crowned be, —
Daphne himself is turn'd into a tree.
One of the club inquires about the situation of Avenant —
where now it lies.
Whether in Lombard,* or the skies.
Because, as seven cities disputed for the birth of Homer, so
after ages will not want towns claiming to be Avenant —
Some say by Avenant no place is meant,
And that our Lombard is without descent ;
And as, by Bilk^ men mean there's nothing there,
So come from Avenant, means from no vjhere.
Thus Will, intending JJA venant to grace.
Has made a notch in's name like that in's face.
D'Avenant had been knighted for his good conduct at the
siege of Gloucester, and was to be tried by the Parliament,
but procured his release without trial. This produces the fol-
lowing sarcastic epigram : —
UPON FIGHTING WILL.
The King knights Will for fighting on his side ;
Yet when Will comes for fighting to be tried,
There is not one in all the armies can
Say they e'er felt, or saw, this fighting man.
Strange, that the Knight should not be known i' th' field ;
A face well charged, though nothing in his shield.
Sure fighting Will like basilisk did ride
Among the troops, and all that savj Will died ;
Else how could Will, for fighting, be a Knight,
And none alive that ever saw Will fight ?
Of the malignancy of their wit, we must preserve one
specimen. They probably harassed our poet with anonymous
to Oxford, and being asked where he was running, by an old townsman,
replied, to *' see my godfather Shakspeare." " There's a good boy," said
the old gentleman, *' but have a care that you don't take God's name in
vain." — Ed.
* The scene where the story of "Gondibert" is placed, which the wits
sometimes pronounced Lumber and Lumhery,
lyAvenant and a Club of Wits. 413
despatches from the Club : for there appears another poem on
D'Avenant's anger on such an occasion : —
A LKTTER SENT TO THE GOOD KNIGHT.
Thou hadst not been thus long neglected,
But we, thy four best friends, expected,
Ere this time, thou hadst stood corrected.
But since that planet governs still,
That rules thy tedious fustain quill
'Gainst nature and the Muses' will ;
When, by thy friends' advice and care,
'Twas hoped, in time, thou wouldst despair
To give ten pounds to write it fair ;
Lest thou to all the world would show it,
We thought it fit to let thee know it :
Thou art a damn'd insipid poet !
These literary satires contain a number of other " pasquils,'*
burlesquing the characters, the incidents, and the stanza, of
the GoNDiBERT : some not the least witty are the most
gross, and must not be quoted ; thus the wits of that day
were poetical suicides, who have shortened their lives by their
folly.
D'Avenant, like more than one epic poet, did not tune to
his ear the names of his personages. They have added, to
show that his writings are adapted to an easy musical singer,
the names of his heroes and heroines, in these verses : —
Hurgonil, Astolpho, Borgia, Goltha, Tibalt,
Astragon, Hermogild, Ulfinor, Orgo, Thula.
And " epithets that will serve for any substantives, either in
this part or the next."
Such are the labours of the idlers of genius, envious of the
nobler industry of genius itself! — How the great author's
spirit was nourished by the restoratives of his other friends,
after the bitter decoctions prescribed by these " Four," I fear
we may judge by the unfinished state in which " Gondibert "
has come down to us. D'Avenant seems, however, to have
guarded his dignity by his silence ; but Hobbes took an op-
portunity of delivering an exquisite opinion on this Club of
Wits, with perfect philosophical indifference. It is in a letter"
to the Hon. Edward Howard, who requested to have his
sentiments on another heroic poem of his own, " The British
Princes."
" My judgment in poetry hath, you know, been once already /
censured, by very good wits, for commending " Gondibert ;"[
but yet they have not, I think, disabled my testimony. For, I
41 4 Quarrels of Authors.
\what autJiority is there in wit ? A jester may have it; a man
in drink may have it, and be fluent over-night, and wise and
dry in the morning. What is it ? or who can tell whether it
be better to have it, or be without it, especially if it be a
pointed wit ? I will take my liberty to praise what I like,
as well as they do to reprehend what they do not like.'*
The stately "Grondibert " was not likely to recover favour in
he court of Charles the Second, where man was never re-
garded in his true greatness, but to be ridiculed ; a court
where the awful presence of Clarendon became so irksome,
that the worthless monarch exiled him ; a court where nothing
was listened to but wit at the cost of sense, the injury of
truth, and the violation of decency ; where a poem of magni-
tude with new claims was a very business for those volatile
arbiters of taste ; an epic poem that had been travestied and
epigrammed, was a national concern with them, which, next
to some new state-plot, that occurred oftener than a new
epic, might engage the monarch and his privy council. These
were not the men to be touched by the compressed reflections
and the ideal virtues personified in this poem. In the court
of the laughing voluptuary the manners as well as the morals
of these satellites of pleasure were so little heroic, that those
of the highest rank, both in birth and wit, never mentioned
each other but with the vulgar familiarity of nicknames, or
the coarse appellatives of Dick, Will, and Jack ! Such was
the era when the serious " Gondibert " was produced, and such
were the judges who seem to have decided its fate.
THE
PAPER-WARS OF THE CIVIL WARS.
The "Mercuries" and "Diumals," archives of political fictions — "The
Diurnals," in the pay of the Parliament, described by Butler and
Cleveland — Sir John Birkenhead excels in sarcasm, with specimens
of his " Mercurius Aulicus" — how he corrects his own lies — Specimens
of the Newspapers on the side of the Commonwealth.
AMOiifQ- these battles of logomachy, in which so much ink
has been spilt, and so many pens have lost their edge — at a
very solemn period in our history, when all around was dis-
tress and sorrow, stood forwards the facetious ancestors of that
numerous progeny who still flourish among us, and who, with-
out a suspicion of their descent, still bear the features of their
progenitors, and inherit so many of the family humours.
These were the Mekcueies and Ditjenals — the newspapers
of our Civil Wars.
The distinguished heroes of these Paper- Wars, Sir John
Birkenhead, March mont Needham, and Sir Roger L'Estrange,
I have elsewhere portrayed.* We have had of late correct
lists of these works ; but no one seems as yet to have given
any clear notion of their spirit and their manner.
The London Journals in the service of the Ps^rliament were
usually the Diurnals. These politicians practised an artifice
which cannot be placed among "the lost inventions." As
these were hawked about the metropolis to spur curiosity,
often languid from over-exercise, or to wheedle an idle spec-
tator into a reader, every paper bore on its front the inviting
heads of its intelligence. Men placed in the same circum-
stances will act in the same manner, without any notion of
imitation ; and the passions of mankind are now addressed by
the same means which our ancestors employed, by those who
do not suspect they are copying them.
These Diurnals have been blasted by the lightnings of
* " Curiosities of Literature," vol. i. p. 158 (last edition).
416 Quarrels of Authors,
Butler and Cleveland. Hudibras is made happy at the idea
that he may be
Register'd by fame eternal,
In deathless pages of Diurnal.
But Cleveland has left us two remarkable effusions of his
satiric and vindictive powers, in his curious character of " A
Diurnal Maker," and " A London Diurnal." He writes in
the peculiar vein of the wit of those times, with an originality
of images, whose combinations excite surprise, and whose
abundance fatigues our weaker delicacy.
" A Diurnal-Maker is the Sub- Almoner of History ; Queen
Mab's Kegister ; one whom, by the same figure that a North-
country pedler is a merchantman, you may style an author.
The silly countryman who, seeing an ape in a scarlet coat,
blessed his young worship, and gave his landlord joy of the
hopes of his house, did not slander his compliment with worse
application than he that names this shred an historian. To
call him an Historian is to knight a Mandrake ; 'tis to view
him through a perspective, and, by that gross hyperbole, to
give the reputation of an engineer to a maker of mousetraps.
"When these weekly fragments shall pass for history, let the
poor man's box be entitled the Exchequer, and the alms-
basket a Magazine. Methinks the Turke should license
Diurnals, because he prohibits learning and books." He
characterises the Diurnal as " a puny chronicle, scarce pin-
feathered with the wings of time ; it is a history in sippets ;
the English Iliads in a nutshell ; the Apocryphal Parliament's
Book of Maccabees in single sheets."
But Cleveland tells us that these Diurnals differ frotti a
Ilercurius Aulicus (the paper of his party), — "as the Devil
and his Exorcist, or as a black witch doth from a white one,
whose office is to unravel her enchantments."
The Mercurius Aulicus was chiefly conducted by Sir John
Birkenhead, at Oxford, "communicating the intelligence
and affairs of the court to the rest of the kingdom." Sir
John was a great wag, and excelled in sarcasm and invective ;
his facility is equal to repartee, and his spirit often reaches to
wit : a great forger of tales, who probably considered that a
romance was a better thing than a newspaper. * The royal
* There is a small poem, published in 1643, entitled " The Great
Assizes holden in Parnassus," in the manner of a later work, " The Ses-
sions of the Poets, " in which all the Diurnals and Mercuries are arraigned
The Paper 'Wars of the Civil Wars, 417
party were so delighted with his witty buffoonery, that Sir
John was recommended to be Professor of Moral Philosophy
at Oxford. Did political lying seem to be a kind of moral
philosophy to the feelings of a party ? The originality of
Birkenhead's happy manner consists in his adroit use of sar-
casm : he strikes it off by means of a parenthesis. I shall
give, as a specimen, one of his summaries of what the Parlia-
mentary Journals had been detailing during the week.
" The Londoners in print this week have been pretty
copious. They sa}'- that a troop of the Marquess of New-
castle's horse have submitted to the Lord Fairfax. (They
were part of the German horse which came over in the
Danish fleet.)* That the Lord Wilmot hath teen dead five
weeks ^ hut the Cavaliers concealed his death. (Remember
this !) That Sir John Urrey\ is dead and buried at Oxford.
(He died the same day with the Lord Wilmot.) That the
and tried. An impartial satire on them all ; and by its good sense and
heavy versification, is so much in the manner of George Wither, that
some have conjectured it to be that singular author's. Its parity gives it a
kind of value. Of such verses as Wither' s, who has been of late extolled too
highly, the chief merit is their sense and truth ; which, if he were not
tedious, might be an excellence in prose. Antiquaries, when they find a
poet adapted for their purposes, conjecture that he is an excellent one.
This prosing satirist, strange to say, in some pastoral poetry, has opened
the right vein.
Aulicus is well characterized : —
" hee, for wicked ends.
Had the Castalian spring defiled with gall,
And changed by Witchcraft most satyricaU,
The bayes of Helicon and myrtles mild,
To pricking hawthornes and to hollies wild.
with slanders false,
With forged fictitious calumnies and tales —
He added fewel to the direful flame
Of civil discord ; and domestic blowes,
By the incentives of malicious prose.
For whereas he should have composed his inke
Of liquors that make flames expire, and shrink
Into their cinders -
— He laboured hard for to bring in
The exploded doctrines of the Florentine,
And taught that to dissemble and to lie
Were vital parts of human policie."
♦ Alluding to a ridiculous rumour, that the King was to receive foreign
troops by a Danish fleet.
f Col. Urrey, alias Hurrey, deserted the Parliament, and went over to
the King ; afterwards deserted the King, and discovered to the Parliament
all he knew of the King's forces. — See Clarendon.
E £
418 Quarrels of Authors,
Cavaliers, hefore they have done, will Hfeeet all men into
misery. (This quibble hath been six times printed, and
nobody would take notice of it ; now let's hear of it no
more !) That all the Cavaliers which Sir William Waller
took prisoners {besides 500) tooke the National Covenant.
(Yes, all he took (besides 500) tooke the Covenant.) That
2000 Irish Behels landed in Wales. (You called them English
Protestants till you cheated them of their money.) That Sir
William Brereton left 14iO good able men in Hawarden Castle.
('Tis the better for Sir Michael Earnley, who hath taken the
Castle.) That the Queen hath a great deafnesse. (Thou
hast a great blister on thy tongue.) That the Cavaliers
burned all the suburbs of Chester, that Sir William Brereton
might find no shelter to besiedge it. (There was no hayrick,
and Sir William cares for no other shelter.)* The Scottish
Dove says (there are Doves in Scotland!) that Hawarden
Castle had but forty men in it when the Cavaliers took it.
(Another told you there were 140 lusty stout fellows in it ;
for shame, gentlemen ! conferre Notes !) That Colonel Nor-
ton at Bumsey took 200 prisoners. (I saw them counted :
they were just two millions.) ThentheDozje hath this sweet pas-
sage : O Aulicus, thou profane wretch, that darest scandalize
God's saints, darest thou call that loyal subject Master Pym a
* This Sir William Brereton, or, as Clarendon writes the name, Bruer-
ton, was the famous Cheshire knight, whom Cleveland characterizes as
one of those heroes whose courage lies in their teeth. *' Was Brereton,"
says the loyal satirist, "to fight with his teeth, as he in all other things
resembles the beast, he would have odds of any man at this weapon. He's
a terrible slaughterman at a Thanksgiving dinner. Had he been cannibal
enough to have eaten those he vanquished, his gut would have made him
valiant." And in ** Loyal Songs" his valiaat appetite is noticed :
"But, oh ! take heed lest he do eat
The Rump all at one dinner !"
And Aulicus, we see, accuses him of concealing his bravery in a hayrick.
It is always curious and useful to confer the writers of intemperate times
one with another. Lord Clarendon, whose great mind was incapable of
descending to scurrility, gives a very different character to this pot-valiant
and hayrick runaway; for he says, " It cannot be denied but Sir William
Brereton, and the other gentlemen of that party, albeit their educa-
tions and course of life had been very different from their present engage-
ments, and for the most part very unpromising in matters of war, and
therefore were too much contemned enemies, executed their commands
with notable sobriety and indefatigable industry (virtues not so well prac-
tised in the King's quarters), insomuch as the best soldiers who encoun-
tered with them had no cause to despise them." — Clarendon, vol. ii.
p. 147.
The Paper 'Wars of the Civil Wars, 419
traitor? (Yes, pretty Pigeon,^ he was charged with six
articles by his Majesty's Atturney Generall.) Next he says,
that Master Pym died like Moses upon the Ifount. (He did
not die upon the mount, but should have done.) Then he
says Master Pym died in a good old age, like Jacob in Egypt.
(Not like Jacob, yet just as those died in Egypt in the days
of Pharaoh.")t
As Sir John was frequently the propagator of false intelli-
gence, it was necessary at times to seem scrupulous, and to
correct some shght errors. He does this very adroitly, with-
out diminishing his invectives.
" We must correct a mistake or two in our two last weeks.
We advertised you of certain money speeches made by Master
John Sedgwick : on better information, it was not John, but
Obadiah, Presbyter of Bread-street, who in the pulpit in hot
weather used to unbutton his doublet, which John, who
wanteth a thumbe, forbears to practise. And when we told
you last week of a committee of Lawyers appointed to put
their new Seale in execution, we named, among others, Master
George Peard.J I confess this was no small errour to reckon
* "The Scotch Dove" seems never to have recovered from this meta-
morphosis, but ever after, among the newsmen, was known to be only a
Widgeon. His character is not very high in ** The Great Assizes."
** The innocent Scotch Dove did then advance,
Full sober in his wit and countenance :
And, though his book contain'd not mickle scence,
Yet his endictment shew'd no great offence.
Great wits to perils great, themselves expose
Oft-times ; but the Scotch Dove was none of those.
In many words he little matter drest,
And did laconick brevity detest.
But while his readers did expect some Newes,
They found a Sermon — "
The Scotch Dove desires to meet the classical Aulicus in the duel of the
pen : —
" to turn me loose,
A Scottish Dove against a Roman Goose."
"The Scotch Dove" is condemned ** to cross the seas, or to repasse the
Tweede." They all envy him his " easy mulct," but he wofuUy exclaims
at the hard sentence,
"For if they knew that home as well as he,
They'd rather die than there imprison'd be !'*
+ This stroke alludes to a rumour of the times, noticed also by Clarendon,
that Pym died of the morbus pediculosus.
t "Peard, a bold lawyer of little note." — Clarendon.
E E 2
420 Quarrels of Authors.
Master Peard among the Lawyers, because lie now lies sicke,
and so farre from being their new Lord Keeper, that he now
despairs to become their Boor Keeper, which office he per-
formed heretofore. But since Master Peard has become
desperately sick ; and so his vote, his law, and haire have all
forsook him, his corporation of Barnstable have been in per-
fect health and loyalty. The town of Barnstable having
submitted to the King, this will no doubt be a special cordial
for their languishing Burgess. And yet the man may grow
hearty again when he hears of the late defeat given to his
Majesty's forces in Lincolnshire."
This paper was immediately answered by Marchmont
Needham, in his " Mercurius Britannicus," who cannot
boast the playful and sarcastic bitterness of Sir John ; yet is
not the dullest of his tribe. He opens his reply thus :
" Aulicus will needs venture his soule upon the other half-
sheet ; and this week he lies, as completely as ever he did in
two full sheets ; full of as many scandals and fictions,
full of as much stupidity and ignorance, full of as many
tedious untruths as ever. And because he would recrute
the reputation of his wit, he falls into the company of
our Diurnals very furiously, and there lays about him in the
midst of our weekly pamphlets ; and he casts in the few
squibs, and the little wildfire he hath, dashing out his con-
ceits ; and he takes it ill that the poore scribblers should
tell a story for their living ; and after a whole week spent at
Oxford, in inke and paper, to as little purpose as Maurice
spent his shot and powder at Plimouth, he gets up, about
Saturday, into a jingle or two, for he cannot reach to a full
jest ; and I am informed that the three-quarter conceits in the
last leafe of his Diurnall cost him fourteen pence in aqua vitce^
Sir John never condescends formally to reply to Needham,
for which he gives this singular reason : — " As for this
libeller, we are still resolved to take no notice till we find
him able to spell his own name, which to this hour Bbitan^-
Nicus never did."
In the next number of Needham, who had always written
it Brittanicus, the correction was silently adopted. There
was no crying down the etymology of an Oxford malignant.
I give a short narrative of the political temper of the times,
n their unparalleled gazettes.
At the first breaking out of the parliament's separation
from the royal party, when the public mind, full of conster-
The Paper-Wars of the Civil Wars. 421
nation in that new anarchy, shook with the infirmity of
childish terrors, the most extravagant reports were as eagerly
caught up as the most probable, and served much better the
purposes of their inventors. They had daily discoveries of
new conspiracies, which appeared in a pretended correspon-
dence written from Spain, France, Italy, or Denmark : they
had their amusing literature, mixed with their grave politics ;
and a dialogue between " a Dutch mariner and an English
ostler," could alarm the nation as much as the last letter
from their "private correspondent." That the wildest rumours
were acceptable appears from their contemporary Fuller.
Armies were talked of, concealed under ground by the king,
to cut the throats of all the Protestants in a night. He as-
sures us that one of the most prevailing dangers among the
Londoners was " a design laid for a mine of powder under
the Thames, to cause the river to drown the city." This
desperate expedient, it seems, was discovered just in time to
prevent its execution ; and the people were devout enough to
have a public thanksgiving, and watched with a little more
care that the Thames might not be blown up. However,
the plot was really not so much at the bottom of the Thames
as at the bottom of their purses. Whenever they wanted
100,000/. they raised a plot, they terrified the people, they
appointed a thanksgiving-day, and while their ministers ad-
dressed to God himself all the news of the week, and even
reproached him for the rumours against their cause, all ended,
as is usual at such times, with the gulled multitude contri-
buting more heavily to the adventurers who ruled them than
the legal authorities had exacted in their greatest wants.
"TheDiurnals" had propagated thirty -nine of these "Treasons,
or new Taxes," according to one of the members of the House
of Commons, who had watched their patriotic designs.
These " Diurnals" sometimes used such language as the
following, from The Weekly Accompt, January, 1643 : —
" This day afforded no newes at all, but onely what was
heavenly and spiritual ;^^ and he gives an account of the
public fast, and of the grave divine Master Henderson's ser-
mon, with his texts in the morning ; and in the afternoon,
another of Master Strickland, with his texts — and of their
spiritual effect over the whole parliament !*
* These divines were as ready with the sword as the pen ; thus, we
are told in " The Impartial Scout" for July, 1650 — " The ministers
ftre now as active in the military discipline as formerly they were in the
422 Quarrels of Authors,
Such news as the following was sometimes very agree-
able : —
" From Oxford it is informed, that on Sunday last was
fortnight in the evening, Prince Rupert, accompanied with
some lords, and other cavaliers, danced through the streets
openly, with music hefore them, to one of the colleges ; where,
after they had stayed about. half an houre, they returned back
again, dancing with the same music ; and immediately there
followed a pach of women, or curtizans, as it may be sup-
posed, for they were hooded, and could not be knowne ; and
this the party who related affirmed he saw with his own
eyes."
On this the Diurnal-maker pours out severe anathemas —
and one with a note, that " dancing and drahhing are insepa-
rable companions, and follow one another close at the heels."
He assures his readers, that the malignants, or royalists, only
fight like sensual beasts, to maintain their dancing and drab-
bing ! — Such was the revolutionary tone here, and such the
arts of faction everj^where. The matter was rather peculiar
to our country, but the principle was the same as practised
in France. Men of opposite characters, when acting for the
same concealed end, must necessarily form parallels.
gospel profession. Parson Ennis, Parson Brown, and about thirty other
ministers having received commissions to be majors and captains, who now
hold forth the Bible in one hand, and the sword in the other, telling the
soldiery that they need not fear what man can do against them — that GFod
is on their side — and that He hath prepared an engine in heaven to break
and blast the designs of all covenant-breakers." — Ei>.
POLITICAL CRITICISM
LITERARY COMPOSITIONS.
Anthony Wood and Locke — Milton and Spkat — Burnet and his History
— Prior and Addison — Swift and Steele — Wagstafpe and Steele —
Steele and Addison — Hooke and Middleton — Gtilbert Wakefield —
Marvel and Milton — Clarendon and Mat.
VoLTAiEE, in his letters on our nation, has hit off a marked
feature in our national physiognomy. "So violent did I find
parties in London, that I was assured by several that the
Duke of Maelboeough was a coward, and Mr. Pope a
fool."
A foreigner indeed could hardly expect that in collecting
the characters of English authors by English authors (a labour
which has long afforded me pleasure often interrupted by in-
dignation) — in a word, that a class of literary history should
turn out a collection of personal quarrels. Would not this
modern Baillet, in his wQwJugemens des Sgavans, so ingeniously
inquisitive but so infinitely confused, require to be initiated
into the mysteries of that spirit of party peculiar to our free
country !
All that boiling rancour which sputters against the
thoughts, the style, the taste, the moral character of an
author, is often nothing more than practising what, to give
it a name, we may call Folitical Criticism in Literature ;
where an author's literary character is attacked solely from
the accidental circumstance of his differing in opinion from
his critics on subjects unconnected with the topics he
treats of.
Could Anthony Wood, had he not been influenced by this
political criticism, have sent down Locke to us as " a man
of a turbulent spirit, clamorous, and never contented, prating
and troublesome?"* But Locke was the antagonist of
i'lLMEE, that advocate of arbitrary power; and Locke is
* A forcible description of Locke may be found in the curious " Life of
Wood," written by himself. I shall give the passage where Wood acknow-
424 Quarrels of Authors.
described "as bred under a fanatical tutor," and when in
Holland, as one of those who under the Earl of Shaftesbury
" stuck close to him when discarded, and carried on the trade
of faction beyond and within the seas several years after."
In the great original genius, born, like Bacon and Newton,
to create a new era in the history of the human mind, this
political literary critic, who was not always deficient in his
perceptions of genius, could only discover " a trader in fac-
tion," though in his honesty he acknowledges him to be "a
noted writer."
A more illustrious instance of party-spirit operating against
works of genius is presented to us in the awful character of
Milton. From eai-liest youth to latest age endowed with
all the characteristics of genius ; fervent with all the inspira-
tions of study ; in all changes still the same great literary
character as Velleius Paterculus writes of one of his heroes —
" Aliquando fortuna, semper animo maximus :" while in his
own day, foreigners, who usually anticipate posterity, were
inquiring after Milton, it is known how utterly disregarded
he lived at home. The divine author of the " Paradise Lost"
was always connected with the man for whom a reward was
offered in the London Gazette. But in their triumph, the
lovers of monarchy missed their greater glory, in not sepa-
rating for ever the republican Secretary of State from the
rival of Homer.
That the genius of Milton pined away in solitude, and that
all the consolations of fame were denied him during his life,
from this political criticism on his works, is generally known ;
but not perhaps that this spirit propagated itself far beyond
the poet's tomb. I give a remarkable instance. Bishop
Sprat, who surely was capable of feeling the poetry of Milton,
yet from political antipathy retained such an abhorrence of
his name, that when the writer of the Latin Inscription on
the poet John Philips, in describing his versification, applied
to it the term Miltono, Sprat ordered it to be erased, as
ledges Ms after celebrity, at the very moment the bigotry of his feelings is
attempting to degrade him.
Wood belonged to a club with Locke and others, for the purpose of hear-
ing chemical lectures. "John Locke of Christchurch was afterwards a
noted writer. This John Locke was a man of a turbulent spirit, clamorous,
and never contented. The club wrote and took notes from the mouth of
their master, who sat at the upper end of a table, but the said John Locke
scorned to do it ; so that while every man besides of the club were writing,
the would be prating and troublesome."
Political Criticism on Literary Composition. 425
polluting a monument raised in a church.* A mere critical
opinion on versification was thus sacrificed to political feeling :
— a stream indeed which in its course has hardly yet worked
itself clear. It could only have been the strong political feel-
ing of Warton which could have induced him to censure the
prose of Milton with such asperity, while he closed his criti-
cal eyes on its resplendent passages, which certainly he wanted
not the taste to feel, — for he caught in his own pages, occa-
sionally, some of the reflected warmth. This feeling took full
possession of the mind of Johnson, who, with all the rage of
political criticism on subjects of literature, has condemned the
finest works of Milton, and in one of his terrible paroxysms
has demonstrated that the Samson Agonistes is " a tragedy
which ignorance has admired and bigotry applauded." Had
not Johnson's religious feelings fortunately interposed between
Milton and his "Paradise," we should have wanted the pre-
sent noble effusion of his criticism ; any other Epic by Milton
* This anecdote deserves preservation. I have drawn it from the MSS.
of Bishop Kennet.
" In the Epitaph on John Philips occurs this line on his metre, that
* TJni in hoc laudis gen ere Miltono secundas,
Primoque pene par.'
These lines were ordered to be razed out of the monument by Dr. Sprat,
Bishop of Koch ester. The word Miltono being, as he said, not fit to be in
a Christian church ; but they have since been restored by Dr. Atterbury,
who succeeded him as Bishop of Rochester, and who wrote the epitaph
jointly with Dr. Freind." — Lansdowne MSS., No. 908, p. 162.
The anecdote has appeared, but without any authority. Dr. Stmmons,
in his *' Life of Milton," observing on what he calls Dr, Johnson's '* bio-
graphical libel on Milton," that Dr. Johnson has mentioned this fact,
seems to suspect its authenticity; for, if true, "it would cover the
respectable name of Sprat with eternal dishonour." Of its truth the
above gives sufficient authority ; but at all events the prejudices of Sprat
must be pardoned, while I am showing that minds far greater than his
have shared in the same unhappy feeling. Dr. Symmons himself bears no
light stain for his slanderous criticism on the genius of Thomas Warton,
from the motive we are discussing ; though Warton, as my text shows,
was too a sinner ! I recollect in my youth a more extraordinary instance
than any other which relates to Milton. A woman of no education, who
had retired from the business of life, became a very extraordinary reader ;
accident had thrown into her way a large library composed of authors who
wrote in the reigns of the two Charleses. She turned out one of the nmlig-
nant party, and an abhorrer of the Commonwealth's men. Her opinion of
Cromwell and Milton may be given. She told me it was no wonder that
the rebel who had been secretary to the usurper should have been able to
have drawn so finished a character of Satan, and that the Pandsemonium,
with all the oratorical devils, was only such as he had himself viewed at
Oliver's council-board.
426 Quarrels of Authors.
had probably sunk beneath his vigorous sophistry, and his
tasteless sarcasm. Lauder's attack on Milton was hardily
projected, on a prospect of encouragement, from this political
criticism on the literary character of Milton ; and he succeeded
as long as he could preserve the decency of the delusion.
The S]3irit of Party has touched with its plague-spot the
character of Burnet ; it has mildewed the page of a powerful
mind, and tainted by its suspicions, its rumours, and its cen-
sures, his probity as a man. Can we forbear listening to all
the vociferations which faction has thrown out ? Do we not
fear to trust ourselves amid the multiplicity of his facts ?
And when we are familiarised with the variety of his historical
portraits, are we not startled when it is suggested that " they
are tinged with his own passions and his own weaknesses ?"
Burnet has indeed made " his humble appeal to the great God
of Truth " that he has given it as fully as he could find it ;
and he has expressed his abhorrence of " a lie in history," so
much greater a sin than a lie in common discourse, from its
lasting and universal nature. Yet these hallowing protesta-
tions have not saved him ! A cloud of witnesses, from
different motives, have risen up to attaint his veracity and
his candour ; while all the Tory wits have ridiculed his style,
impatiently inaccurate, and uncouthly negligent, and would
sink his vigour and ardour, while they expose the meanness
and poverty of his genius. Thus the literary and the moral
character of no ordinary author have fallen a victim to party-
feeling.*
* I throw into this note several curious notices respecting Bxjbnet, and
chiefly from contemporaries.
Burnet has been accused, after a warm discussion, of returning home in
a passion, and then writing the character of a person. But as his feelings
were warm, it is probable he might have often practised the reverse. An
anecdote of the times is preserved in '* The Memoirs of Grub-street," vol.
ii. p. 291. " A noble peer now living declares he stood with a very ill
grace in the history, till he had an opportunity put into his hands of
obliging the bishop, by granting a favour at court, upon which the bishop
told a friend, within an hear, that he was mistaken in such a lord, and
must go and alter his whole character ; and so he happens to have a pretty
good one." In this place I also find this curious extract from the MS.
" Memoirs of the M of H ." " Such a day Dr. B 1 told me
King William was an obstinate, conceited man, that would take no advice ;
and on this day King William told me that Dr. B 1 was a troublesome,
impertinent man, whose company he could not endure." These anecdotes
are very probable, and lead one to reflect. Some political tergiversation
has been laid to his charge ; Swift accused him of having once been an
advocate for passive obedience and absolute power. He has been re-
Political Criticism on Literary Composition. 427
But this victim to political criticism on literature was hira-
sel*f criminal, and has wr^^aked his own party feelings on the
JPapist Dry den, and the Toty Prior ; Dry den he calls, in the
proached with the deepest ingratitude, for the purpose of gratifying his
darling passion of popularity, in his conduct respecting the Duke of Lau-
derdale, his former patron. If the following piece of secret history he
true, he showed too much of a compliant humour, at the cost of his honour.
I find it in Bishop Kennet's MSS. " Dr. Burnet having over night given
in some important depositions against the Earl of Lauderdale to the House
of Commons, was, before morning, by the intercession of the D , made
king's chaplain and preacher at the Rolls ; so he was bribed to hold the
peace." — Lansdowne MSS., 990. This was quite a politician's short way to
preferment ! An honest man cannot leap up the ascent, however he may try
to climb. There was something morally wrong in this transaction, because
Burnet notices it, and acknowledges — " I was much blamed for what I had
done." The story is by no means refuted by the naive apology.
Burnet's character has been vigorously attacked, with all the nerve of
satire, in " Faction Displayed," attributed to Shippen, whom Pope cele-
brates —
" And pour myself as plain
As honest Shippen or as old Montaigne."
Shippen was a Tory. In ** Faction Displayed," Burnet is represented with
his Cabal (so some party nicknames the other), on the accession of Queen
Anne, plotting the disturbance of her government. "Black Aris's fierce-
ness," that is Burnet, is thus described : —
*' A Scotch, seditious, unbelieving priest,
The brawny chaplain of the calves' -head feast,
"Who first his patron, then his prince betray'd,
And does that church he's sworn to guard, invade,
Warm with rebellious rage, he thus began," &c.
One hardly suspects the hermit Parnell capable of writing rather harsh
verses, yet stinging satire ; they are not in his works ;" but he wrote the
following lines on a report of a fire breaking out in Burnet's library, which
had like to have answered the purpose some wished — of condemning the
author and his works to the flames —
** He talks, and writes, that Popery will return,
And we, and he, and all his works will burn ;
And as of late he meant to bless the age
"With flagrant prefaces of party rage,
O'ercome with passion and the subject's weight,
Lolling he nodded in his elbow-seat ;
Down fell the candle ! Grease and zeal conspire,
Heat meets with heat, and pamphlets burn their sire ;
Here crawls a preface on its half-burn'd maggots.
And there an introduction brings its fagots ;
Then roars the prophet of the northern nation,
Scorch'd by a flaming speech on moderation."
Thomas Warton smiles at Burnet for the horrors of Popery which per-
petually haunted him, in his "Life of Sir T. Pope," p. 53. But if we
428 Quarrels of Authors.
most unguarded language, " a monster of immodesty and im-
purity of all sorts." There had been a literary quarrel
between Dryden and Burnet respecting a translation of
Varillas' " History of Heresies ;" Burnet had ruined the credit
of the papistical author while Dryden was busied on the
translation ; and as Burnet says, " he has wreaked his malice
on me for spoiling his three months' labour." In return, he
kindly informs Dryden, alluding to his poem of " The Hind
and the Panther," "that he is the author of the worst poem
the age has produced;" and that as for "his morals, it is
scarce possible to grow a worse man than he was" — a personal
style not to be permitted in any controversy, but to bring
this passion on the hallowed ground of history, was not
"casting away his shoe" in the presence of the divinity of
truth.* It could only have been the spirit of party which
substitute the term arbitrary power for popery, no Briton will join in the
abuse Burnet has received on this account, A man of Burnet's fervid
temper, whose foible was sti'ong vanity and a passion for popularity, would
often rush headlong into improprieties of conduct and language ; his enemies
have taken ample advantage of his errors ; but many virtues his friends
have recorded ; and the elaborate and spirited character which the Marquis
of Halifax has drawn of Burnet may soothe his manes, and secure its repose
amid all these disturbances around his tomb. This fine character is pre-
served in the ** Biographia Britannica." Burnet is not the only instance of
the motives of a man being honourable, while his actions are frequently the
reverse, from his impetuous nature. He has been reproached for a want
of that truth which he solemnly protests he scrupulously adhered to ; yet,
of many circumstances which were at the time condemned as "lies," when
Time drew aside the mighty veil. Truth was discovered beneath. Tovey,
with his usual good humour, in his " Anglia Judaica," p. 277, notices
*' that pleasant copious imagination which will for ever rank our English
Bwtnet with the Grecian Heliodorus." Eoger North, in his ** Examen,"
p. 413, calls him "a busy Scotch parson." Lord Orford sneei'S at his
hasty epithets, and the colloquial carelessness of his style, in his " Historic
Doubts," where, in a note, he mentions "owe Burnet" tells a ridiculous
story, mimicking Burnet's chit-chat, and concludes surprisingly with, " So
the Prince of Orange mounted the throne."
After .reading this note, how would that learned foreigner proceed, who
I have supposed might be projecting the "Judgments of the Learned" on
our English authors ? Were he to condemn Burnet as an historian void of
all honour and authority, he would not want for docunjents. It would
require a few minutes to explain to the foreigner the nature of political
criticism.
* Dryden was very coarsely satirised in the political poems of his own
day; and among the rest, in "The Session of the Poets," — a general
onslaught directed against the writers of the time, which furnishes us
with many examples of unjust criticism on these literary men, entirely
originating in political feeling. One example may suffice :
Political Criticism on Literary Composition. 429
induced Burnet, in his History, to mention with contempt
and pretended ignorance so fine a genius as " one Prior, who
had been Jersey's secretary." It was the same party-feehng
in the Tory Prior, in his elegant " Alma," where he has inter-
woven so graceful a wreath for Pope, that could sneer at the
fine soliloquy of the Roman Cato of the Whig Addison ;
I hope you would not have me die
Like simple Cato in the play.
For anything that he can say.
It was the same spirit which would not allow that Garth
was the author of his celebrated poem —
Garth did not write his own Dispensary^
as Pope ironically alludes to the story of the times : — a con-
temporary wit has recorded this literary injury, by repeating
it.* And Swift, who once exclaimed to Pope, " The deuce
take party !" was himself the greatest sinner of them all. He,
once the familiar friend of Steele till party divided them, not
only emptied his shaft of quivers against his literary charac-
ter, but raised the horrid yell of the war-whoop in his in-
human exultation over the unhappy close of the desultory life
of a man of genius. Bitterly has he written —
From perils of a hundred jails,
Withdrew to starve, and die in Wales.
When Steele published "The Crisis," Swift attacked the
author in so exquisite a piece of grave irony, that I am
tempted to transcribe his inimitable parallels of a triumvirate
composed of the writer of the Flying Post, Dunton the
literary projector, and poor Steele : the one, the Iscariot of
hackney scribes ; the other a crack-brained scribbling book-
seller, who boasted he had a thousand projects, fancied he had
*' Then in came Denham, that limping old bard,
Whose fame on the Sophy and Cooper' s-hill stands,
And brought many stationers, who swore very hard
That nothing sold better except 'twere his lands.
But Apollo advised him to write something more,
To clear a suspicion which possessed the Court,
That Cooper" s-hill, so much bragg'd on before,
Was writ by a vicar, who had forty pounds foi''t."
* Dr. Wagstaffe, in his " Character of Steele," alludes to the rumour
which Pope has sent down to posterity in a single verse : "I should have
thought Mr. Steele might have the example of his friend before his eyes,
who had the reputation of being the author of The Dispensary, till, by
two or three unlucky after-claps, he proved himself incapable of writing it."
— Waqstaffe's Misc. Works, p. 136.
480 Quarrels of Authors,
methodised six hundred, and was ruined by the fifty he exe-
cuted. The following is a specimen of that powerful irony in
which Swift excelled all other writers ; that fine Cervantic
humour, that provoking coolness which Swift preserves while
he is panegyrising the objects of his utter contempt.
" Among the present writers on the Whig side, I can recol-
lect but three of any great distinction, which are the Flying
Fast, Mr. Dunton, and the Author of " The Crisis." The first
of these seems to have been much sunk in reputation since the
sudden retreat of the only true, genuine, original author, Mr,
Kidpath, who is celebrated by the Dutch Gazetteer as one of
the hest pens in England. Mr. Dunton hath been longer and
more conversant in books than any of the three, as well as
more voluminous in his productions : however, having em-
ployed his studies in so great a variety of other subjects, he
hath, I think, but lately turned his genius to politics. His
famous tract entitled "Neck or Nothing" must be allowed to
be the shrewdest piece, and written with the most spirit of
any which hath appeared from that side since the change of
the ministry. It is indeed a most cutting satire upon the
Lord Treasurer and Lord Bolingbroke ; and I wonder none of
our friends ever undertook to answer it. I confess I was at
first of the same opinion with several good judges, who from
the style and manner suppose it to have issued from the sharp
pen of the Earl of Nottingham ; and I am still apt to think
it might receive his lordship's last hand. The third and
principal of this triumvirate is the author of " The Crisis,"
who, although he must yield to the Flying Post in knowledge
of the world and skill in politics, and to Mr. Dunton in keen-
ness of satire and variety of reading, hath yet other qualities
enough to denominate him a writer of a superior class to
either, provided he would a little regard the propriety and
disposition of his words, consult the grammatical part, and
get some information on the subject he intends to handle."*
* I know not how to ascertain the degree of political skill which Steele
reached in his new career — he was at least a spirited Whig, but the ministry
was then under the malignant influence of the concealed adherents to the
Stuarts, particularly of Eolingbroke, and such as Atterbury, whose secret
history is now much better known than in their own day. The terrors of the
Whigs were not unfounded. Steele in the House disappointed his friends ;
from his popular Essays, it was expected he would have been a fluent orator ;
this was no more the case with him than Addison. On this De Foe said
he had better have continued the Spectator than the Tatler. — Lansdowwe's
MSS. 1097.
Political Criticism on Literary Composition. 431
So far this fine ironical satire may be inspected as a model ;
the polished weapon he strikes with so gracefully, is allowed
by all the laws of war ; but the political criticism on the
literary character, the party feeling which degrades a man of
genius, is the drop of poison on its point.
Steele had declared in the " Crisis " that he had always
maintained an inviolable respect for the clergy. Swift (who
perhaps was aimed at in this instance, and whose character,
since the publication of "The Tale of a Tub," lay under a
suspicion of an opposite tendency) turns on Steele with all
the vigour of his wit, and all the causticity of retort : —
" By this he would insinuate that those papers among the
Tatlers and Spectators, where the whole order is abused, were
not his own. I will appeal to all who know the flatness of
his style, and the barrenness of his invention, whether he doth
not grossly prevaricate? Was he ever able to walk with-
out his leading-strings, or swim without bladders, without
being discovered by his hobbling or his sinking .^"
Such was the attack of Swift, which was pursued in the
JExaminer, and afterwards taken up by another writer. This
is one of the evils resulting from the wantonness of genius : it
gives a contagious example to the minor race ; its touch opens
a new vein of invention, which the poorer wits soon break
into ; the loose sketch of a feature or two from its rapid hand
is sujSicient to become a minute portrait, where not a hair is
spared by the caricaturist. This happened to Steele, whose
hterary was to be sacrificed to his political character ; and this
superstructure was confessedly raised on the malicious hints
we have been noticing. That the Examiner was the seed-plot
of " The Character of Eichard St — le, Esq.," appears by its
opening — " It will be no injury, I am persuaded, to the
JExaminer to borrow him a little (Steele), upon promise of
returning him safe, as children do their playthings, when their
mirth is over, and they have done with them."
The author of the " Character of Richard St — le. Esq ,"
was Dr. Wagstaff'e, one of those careless wits* who lived to
* Wagstaffe's "Miscellaneous Works," 1726, have been collected into
a volume. They contain satirical pieces of humour, accompanied by some
Hogarthian prints. His *' Comment upon the History of Tom Thumb,"
ridicules Addison's on the old ballad of " Chevy Chase," who had declared
*' it was full of the majestic simplicity which we admire in the greatest of
the ancient poets," and quoted passages which he paralleled with several in
the ^neid. Wagstaffe tells us he has found " in the library of a school-
boy, among other undiscovered valuable authors, one more proper to adorn
432 Quarrels of Authors.
repent a crazy life of wit, fancy, and hope, and an easy, indo-
lent one, whose genial hours force up friends like hot-house
plants, that bloom and flower in the spot where they are
raised, but will not endure the change of place and season —
this wit caught the tone of Swift, and because, as his editor
tells us, " he had some friends in the ministry, and thought
he could not take a better way to oblige them than by show-
ing his dislike to a gentleman who had so much endeavoured
to oppose them," he sat down to write a libel with all the
best humour imaginable ; for, adds this editor, " he was so far
from having any personal pique or enmity against Mr. Steele,
that at the time of his writing he did not so much as know
him, even by sight." This principle of "having some
friends in the ministry," and not " any knowledge " of the
character to be attacked, has proved a great source of inven*
tion to our political adventurers ; — thus Dr. Wagstaffe was
fully enabled to send down to us a character where the moral
and literary qualities of a genius, to whom this country owes
so much as the father of periodical papers, are immolated to
his political purpose. This severe character passed through
several editions. However the careless Steele might be willing
to place the elaborate libel to the account of party writings,
if he did not feel disturbed at reproaches and accusations,
which are confidently urged, and at critical animadversions, to
which the negligence of his style sometimes laid him too
open, his insensibility would have betrayed a depravity in his
morals and taste which never entered into his character.*
the shelves of Bodley or the Vatican than to be confined to the obscurity of
a private study." This little Homer is the chanter of Tom Thumb. He
performs his office of ** a true commentator," proving the congenial spirit
of the poet of Thumb with that of the poet of jEneas. Addison got himself
ridiculed for that fine natural taste, which felt all the witchery of our
ballad-Enniuses, whose beauties, had Virgil lived with Addison, he would
have inlaid into his mosaic. The bigotry of classical taste, which is not
always accompanied by a natural one, and rests securely on prescribed
opinions and traditional excellence, long contemned our vernacular genius,
spurning at the minstrelsy of the nation ; Johnson's ridicule of "Percy's Ee-
liques" had its hour, but the more poetical mind of Scott bas brought us
back to home feelings, to domestic manners, and eternal nature.
* I shall content myself with referring to ' ' The Character of Richard
St — le. Esq,," in Dr. Wagstaffe's Miscellaneous "Works, 1726. Considering
that he had no personal knowledge of his victim, one may be well surprised
at his entering so deeply into his private history ; but of such a character
as Steele, the private history is usually too public — a mass of scandal for
the select curious. Poor Steele, we are told, was ' * arrested for the main-
tenance of his bastards, and afterwards printed a proposal that the public
Political Criticism on Literary Composition, 433
Steele was doomed even to lose the friendship of Addison
amid political discords ; but on that occasion Steele showed that
his taste for literature could not be injured by political ani-
mosity. It was at the close of Addison's life, and on occa-
sion of the Peerage Bill, Steele published " The Plebeian," a
cry against enlarging the aristocracy. Addison replied with
" The Old Whig ," Steele rejoined without alluding to the
person of his opponent. But " The Old Whig " could not
restrain his political feelings, and contemptuously described
"little Dicky, whose trade it was to write pamphlets."
should take care of them ;" got into the House " not to be arrested ;" —
*' his set speeches there, which he designs to get exterrvpore to speak in the
House." For his literary character we are told that "Steele was a jay
who borrowed a feather from the peacock, another from the bullfinch, and
another from the magpye ; so that DicTc is made up of borrowed colours ;
he borrowed his humour from Estcourt, criticism of Addison, his poetry of
Pope, and his politics of Ridpath ; so that his qualifications as a man of
genius, like Mr. T s, as a member of Parliament, lie in thirteen
parishes." Such are the pillows made up for genius to rest its head on !
Wagstaffe has sometimes delicate humour ; Steele, who often wrote in
haste, necessarily wrote incorrectly. Steele had this sentence : "And all,.
as one man, will join in a common indignation against all who would per-
plex our obedience :" on which our pleasant critic remarks — " Whatever
contradiction there is, as some suppose, in all joining against all, our
author has good authority for what he says ; and it may be proved, in spite
of Euclid or Sir Isaac, that everything consists of two alls, that these alls
are capable of being divided and subdivided into as many alls as you please,
and so ad infinitum. The following lines may serve for an illustration : —
* Three children sliding on the ice
Upon a summer's day ;
As it fell out, they all fell in ;
The rest they ran away.'
** Though this polite author does not directly say there are two alls, yet
he implies as much ; for I would ask any reasonable man what can be
understood by the rest they ran away, but the other all we have been
speaking of ? The world may see that I can exhibit the beauties, as well
as quarrel with the faults, of his composition, but I hope he will not value
himself on his hasty productions.''''
Poor Steele, with the best humour, bore these perpetual attacks, not,
however, without an occasional groan, just enough to record his feelings.
In one of his wild, yet well-meant projects, of the invention of " a Fish-pool,
or Vessel for Importing Fish Alive," 1718, he complains of calumnies and
impertinent observations on him, and seems to lay some to the account of
his knighthood : — "While he was pursuing what he believed might conduce
to the common good, he gave the syllables Richard Steele to the publick,
to be \ised and treated as tliey should think fit ; he must go on in the same
indifference, and allow the Town their usual liberty with his name, which
I find they think they have much more room to sport with than formerly,
as it is lengthened with the monosyllable Sib."
r E
434 Quarrels of Authors,
Steele replied with his usual warmth ; but indignant at the
charge of " vassalage," he says, " 1 will end this paper, by
firing every free breast with that noble exhortation of the
tragedian —
Remember, my friends ! the laws, the rights,
The generous plan of power deliver'd down
From age to age, &c.
Thus delicately he detects the anonymous author, and thus
energetically commends, while he reproves him !
Hooke (a Cathohc), after he had written his "Roman
History," published " Observations on Vertot, Middleton, &c.,
on the Roman Senate," in which he particularly treated Dr.
Middleton with a disrespect for which the subject gave no
occasion : this was attributed to the Doctor's offensive letter
from Rome. Spelman, in replying to this concealed motive
of the Catholic, reprehends him with equal humour and bitter-
ness for his desire of roasting a Protestant parson.
Our taste, rather than our passions, is here concerned ; but
the moral sense still more so. The malice of faction has long
produced this literary calamity ; yet great minds have not
always degraded themselves ; not always resisted the impulse
of their finer feelings, by hardening them into insensibility, or
goading them in the fury of a misplaced revenge. How
delightful it is to observe Marvell, the Presbyterian and
Republican wit, with that generous temper that instantly dis-
covers the alliance of genius, warmly applauding the great
work of Butler, which covered his own party with odium and
ridicule. " He is one of an excellent wit," says Marvell, " and
whoever dislikes the choice of his subject, cannot but com-
mend the performance."*
Clarendon's profound genius could not expand into the same
liberal feelings. He highly commends May for his learning,
his wit and language, and for his Supplement to Lucan, which
he considered as " one of the best epic poems in the Enghsh
language ;" but this great spirit sadly winces in the soreness
of his feelings when he alludes to May's " History of the
Parliament;" then we discover that this late " ingenious per-
son " performed his part " so meanly, that he seems to have
lost his wit when he left his honesty." Behold the political
criticism in literature ! However we may incline to respect
the feelings of Clarendon, this will not save his judgment nor
* "Rehearsal Transprosed," p. 45.
Political Criticism on Literary Composition, 435
his candour. We read May now, as well as Clarendon ; nor
is the work of May that of a man who " had lost his wits,"
nor is it " meanly performed." Warburton, a keen critic of
the writers of that unhappy and that glorious age for both
parties, has pronounced this " History " to be " a just com-
position, according to the rules of history ; written with much
judgment, penetration, manliness, and spirit, and with a can-
dour that will greatly increase your esteem, when you under-
stand that he wrote by order of his masters the Parliament.'*
Thus have authors and their works endured the violations
of party feelings ; a calamity in our national literature which
has produced much false and unjust criticism.* The better
spirit of the present times will maintain a safer and a more
honourable principle, — the true objects of Literature, the
cultivation of the intellectual faculties, stand entirely un-
connected with Politics and Religtot^, let this be the
imprescriptible right of an author. In our free country
unhappily they have not been separated — they run together,
and in the ocean of human opinions, the salt and bitterness of
these mightier waves have infected the clear waters from the
springs of the Muses. I once read of a certain river that ran
tlu'ough the sea without mixing with it, preserving its crys-
talline purity and all its sweetness during its course ; so that
it tasted the same at the Line as at the Poles. This stream
indeed is only to be found in the geography of an old
romance ; literature should be this magical stream !
* The late Gilbert Wakefield is an instance where the political and theo-
logical opinions of a recluse student tainted his pure literary works. Con-
demned as an enraged Jacobin by those who were Unitarians in politics, and
rejected because he was a Unitarian in religioa by the orthodox, poor Wake-
field's literary labours were usually reduced to the value of waste-paper.
We smile, but half in sorrow, in reading a letter, where he says, "I medi-
tate a beginning, during the winter, of my criticisms on all the ancient
Greek and Latin authors, hy small piecemeals, on the cheapest possible
paper, and at the least possible expense of printing. As I can never do
more than barely indemnify myself, I shall print only 250 copies." He
half-ruined himself by his splendid edition of Lucretius, which could never
obtain even common patronage from the opulent friends of classical litera-
ture. Since his death it has been reprinted, and is no doubt now a market-
able article for the bookseller ; so that if some authors are not successful
for themselves, it is a comfort to think how useful, in a variety of shapes,
they are made so to others. Even Gilbert's "contracted scheme of publi-
cation" he was compelled to abandon ! Yet the classic erudition of Wake-
field was confessed, and is still remembered. No one will doubt that we
have lost a valuable addition to our critical stores by this literaiy persecu-
tion, were it only in the present instance ; but examples are too numerous I
rF2
HOBBES, AND HIS QUARRELS;
INCLUDING
AN ILLUSTRATION OF HIS CHARACTER.
Why Hobbes disguised liis sentiments — why his philosophy degraded him —
of the sect of the Hobbists — his Leviathan ; its principles adapted to
existing circumstances — the author's difficulties on its first appearance —
the system originated in his fears, and was a contrivance to secure the
peace of the nation — its duplicity and studied ambiguity illustrated by
many facts — the advocate of the national religion — accused of atheism —
Hobbe's religion — his temper too often tried — attacked by opposite par-
ties — Bishop Fell's ungenerous conduct — makes Hobbes regret that
juries do not consider the quarrels of authors of any moment — the
mysterious panic which accompanied him through life — its probable
cause — he pretends to recant his opinions — he is speculatively bold, and
practically timorous — an extravagant specimen of the anti-social philo-
sophy — the SELFISM of Hobbes — his high sense of his works, in regard
to foreigners and posterity — his montrous egotism — his devotion to his
literary pursuits — the despotic principle of the Leviathan of an inno-
cent tendency — the fate of systems of opinions.
The history of the philosopher of Malmesbury exhibits a
large picture of literary controversy, where we may observe
how a persecuting spirit in the times drives the greatest men
to take refuge in the meanest arts of subterfuge. Compelled
to disguise their sentiments, they will not, however, sup-
press them ; and hence all their ambiguous proceedings, all
that ridicule and irony, and even recantation, with which in-
genious minds, when forced to their employ, have never failed
to try the patience, or the sagacity, of intolerance.*
* Shaftesbury has thrown out, on this head, some important truths :—
* ' If men are forbid to speak their minds seHously, they will do it ironi'
cally. If they find it dangerous to do so, they will then redouble their
disguise, involve themselves into mysteriousness, and talk so as hardly to be
understood. The persecuting spirit has raised the bantering one. The
higher the slavery, the more exquisite the buffoonery." — Vol. i. p. 71.
The subject of our pi-esent inquiry is a very remarkable instance of "in-
volving himself into mysteriousness." To this cause we owe the strong
raillery of Marvell ; the cloudy *' Oracles of Reason" of Blount ; and the
formidable, though gross burlesque, of Hickeringill, tlie rector of All-
Hobbes. 437
The character of Hobbes will, however, serve a higher
moral design. The force of his intellect, the originality of
his views, and the keenest sagacity of observation, place him
in the first order of minds ; but he has mortified, and then
degraded man into a mere selfish animal. From a cause we
shall discover, he never looked on human nature but in terror
or in contempt. The inevitable consequence of that mode of
thinking, or that system of philosophy, is to make the philo-
sopher the abject creature he has himself imagined ; and it is
then he libels the species from his own individual experience.*
Saints, in Colchester. ** Of him (says the editor of his collected works,
1716), the greatest writers of our times trembled at his pen ; and as great
a genius as Sir Roger L'Estrange's was, it submitted to his superior way
of reasoning''' — that is, to a most extraordinary burlesque spirit in po-
litics and religion. But even he who made others tremble felt the terrors
he inflicted ; for he complains that ** some who have thought his pen too
sharp and smart, those who have been galled, sore men where the skin's
oflp, have long lain to catch for somewhat to accuse me — upon such touchy
subjects, a man had need have the dexterity to split a hair, to handle them
pertinently, usefully, and yet safely and warily.'''' — Such men, however,
cannot avoid their fate : they will be persecuted, however they succeed in
"splitting a hair ;" and it is then they have recourse to the most absurd
subterfuges, to which our Hobbes was compelled. Thus also it happened to
Woolstou, who wrote in a ludicrous way "Blasphemies" against the
miracles of Christ ; calling them " tales and rodomontados." He rested
his defence on this subterfuge, that "it was meant to place the Christian
religion on a better footing," &c. But the Court answered, that "if the
author of a treasonable libel should write at the conclusion, God save the
king / it would not excuse him."
* The moral axiom of Solon "Know thyself" {Nosce teipsum), ap-
plied by the ancient sage as a corrective for our own pride and vanity,
Hobbes contracts into a narrow principle, when, in his introduction to
"The Leviathan," he would infer that, by this self- inspection, we are
enabled to determine on the thoughts and passions of other men ; and thus
he would make the taste, the feelings, the experience of the individual
decide for all mankind. This simple error has produced all the dogmas of
cynicism ; for the cynic is one whose insulated feelings, being all of the
selfish kind, can imagine no other stirrer of even our best affections, and
strains even our loftiest virtues into pitiful motives. Two noble authors,
men of the most dignified feelings, have protested against this principle.
Lord Shaftesbury keenly touches the characters of Hobbes and Rochester : —
" Sudden courage, says our modern philosopher (Hobbes), is anger. If so,
courage, considered as constant, and belonging to a character, must, in his
account, be defined constant anger, or anger constantly recurring. All
men, says a witty poet (Rochester), would be cowards, if they durst : that
the poet and the philosopher both were cowards, may be yielded, perhaps,
without dispute ! they may have spoken the best of their knowledge." —
Shaftesbury, vol. i. p.' 119.
With an heroic spirit, that virtuous statesman. Lord Clarendon, rejects
the degrading notion of Hobbes. When he looked into his own breast, he
438 Quarrels of Authors.
More generous tempers, men endowed with warmer imagina-
tions, awake to sympathies of a higher nature, will indig-
nantly reject the system, which has reduced the unlucky
system-maker himself to such a pitiable condition.
Hobbes was one of those original thinkers who create a
new era in the philosophical history of their nation, and per-
petuate their name by leaving it to a sect.*
found that courage was a real virtue, "which had induced him, had it beea
necessary, to have shed his blood as a patriot. But death, in the judgment
of Hobbes, was the most terrible event, and to be avoided by any means.
Lord Clarendon draws a parallel between a "man of courage" and one of
the disciples of Hobbes, "brought to die together, by a judgment they
cannot avoid." "How comes it to pass, that one of these under|roes
death, with no other concernment than as if he were going any other
journey ; and the other with such confusion and trembling, that he is even
without life before he dies ; if it were true that all men fear alike upon
the like occasion ?*' — Survey of the Leviathan, p. 14.
* They were distinguished as Hobhists, and the opinions as Hohhianism.
Their chief happened to be born on a Good Friday ; and in the metrical
history of his own life he seems to have considered it as a remarkable
event. An atom had its weight in the scales by which his mighty egotism
weighed itself. He thus marks the day of his birth, innocently enough : —
*' Natus erat noster Servator Homo-Deus annos
Mille et quingentos, octo quoque undecies."
But the Hohbists declared more openly (as Wood tells us), that "as our
Saviour Christ went out of the world on that day to save the men of the
world, so another saviour came into the world on that day to save them !"
That the sect spread abroad, as well as at home, is told us by Lord Cla-
rendon, in the preface to his "Survey of the Leviathan." The qualities
of the author, as well as the book, were well adapted for proselytism ;
for Clarendon, who was intimately acquainted with him, notices his con-
fidence in conversation — his never allowing himself to be contradicted — his
bold inferences — the novelty of his expressions — and his probity, and a life
free from scandal. "The humour and inclination of the time to all kind
of paradoxes," was indulged by a pleasant clear style, an appearance of
order and method, hai'dy paradoxes, and accommodating principles to exist-
ing circumstances.
Who were the sect composed of? The monstrous court of Charles IL —
the grossest materialists ! The secret history of that court could scarcely
find a Suetonius among us. But our author was frequently in the hands of
those who could never have comprehended what they pretended to admire ;
this appears by a publication of the times, intituled, " Twelve Ingenious
Characters, &c." 1686, where, in that of a town-fop, who, "for genteel
breeding, posts to town, by his mother's indulgence, three or four wild
companions, half-a-dozen bottles of Burgundy, two leaves of Leviathan,''''
and some few other obvious matters, shortly make this young philosopher
nearly lose his moral and physical existence. " He will not confess him-
self an Atheist, yet he boasts aloud that he holds his gospel from the
Apostle of Malmesiuryt though it is more than probable he never read, at
Hobbes. 439
The eloquent and thinking Madame de Stael has asserted
that "Hobbes was an Atheist and a Slave.'^ Yet I still
think that Hobbes believed, and proved, the necessary exis-
tence of a Deity, and that he loved freedom, as every sage
desires it. It is now time to offer an apology for one of those
great men who are the contemporaries of all ages, and, by fer-
vent inquiry, to dissipate that traditional cloud which hangs
over one of "those monuments of the mind" which G-enius
has built with imperishable materials.
The author of the far-famed " Leviathan" is considered as
a vehement advocate for absolute monarchy. This singular
production may, however, be equally adapted for a republic ;
and the monstrous principle may be so innocent in its nature,
as even to enter into our own constitution, which presumes to
be neither.*
least understood, ten leaves of that unlucky author.'''' If such were his
wretched disciples, Hobbes was indeed "an unlucky author," for their
morals and habits were quite opposite to those of their master. Eaohard,
in the preface to his Second Dialogue, 1673, exhibits a very Lucianic ar-
rangement of his disciples — Hobbes' "Pit, Box, and Gallery Friends."
The Pit-friends were sturdy practicants who, when they hear that ' * Ill-
nature, Debauchery, and Irreligion were Mathematics and Demonstration,
clap and shout, and swear by all that comes from Malmesbury." The
Gallery are "a sort of small, soft, little, pretty, fine gentlemen, who
having some little wit, some little modesty, some little remain of conscience
and country religion, could not hector it as the former, but quickly learnt
to chirp and giggle when t'other clapt and shouted." But "the Don-
admirers, diXiA Box-friends oiMx. Hobbes are men of gravity and reputation,
who will scarce simper in favour of the philosopher, but can make shift to
nod and nod again." Even amid this wild satire we find a piece of truth
in a dark comer ; for the satirist confesses that " his Gallery-friends, who
were such resolved practicants in Hohbianism (by which the satirist means
all kinds of licentiousness) would most certainly have been so, had there
never been any such man as Mr. Hobbes in the world." Why then place
to the account of the philosopher those gross immoralities which he never
sanctioned ? The life of Hobbes is without a stain ! He had other friends
besides these " Box, Pit, and Gallery" gentry — the learned of Europe, and
many of the great and good men of his own country.
* Hobbes, in defending Thucydides, whom he has so admirably trans-
lated, from the charge of some obscurity in his design, observes that
"Marcellinus saith he was obscure, on purpose that the common people
might not understand him ; and not unlikely, for a wise man should so
write (though in words understood by all men), that wise men only should
be able to commend him." Thus early in life Hobbes had determined on a
pnnciple which produced all his studied ambiguity, involved him in so
much controversy, and, in some respects, preserved him in an inglorious
security.
440 Quarrels of Authors,
As "The Leviathan" produced the numerous controversies
of Hobbes, a history of this great moral curiosity enters into
our subject.
Hobbes, living in times of anarchy, perceived the necessity
of re-establishing authority with more than its usual force.
But how were the divided opinions of men to melt together,
and where in the State was to be placed absolute power ? for a
remedy of less force he could not discover for that disordered
state of society which he witnessed. Was the sovereign or the
people to be invested with that mighty power which was to
keep every other quiescent ? — a topic which had been discussed
for ages, and still must be, as the humours of men incline —
was, I believe, a matter perfectly indifferent to our philosopher,
provided that whatever might be the government, absolute
power could somewhere be lodged in it, to force men to act
in strict conformity. He discovers his perplexity in the dedi-
cation of his work. " In a way beset with those that con-
tend on one side for too great liberty, on the other side for
too much authority, 'tis hard to pass between the points of
both unwounded." It happened that our cynical Hobbes had
no respect for his species ; terrified at anarchy, he seems to
have lost all fear when he flew to absolute power^a sove-
reign remedy unworthy of a great spirit, though convenient
for a timid one like his own. Hobbes considered men merely
as animals of prey, living in a state of perpetual hostility, and
his solitary principle of action was self-preservation at any
price.
He conjured up a political phantom, a favourite and fanciful
notion, that haunted him through life. He imagined that
the many might be more easily managed by making them up
into an artificial One, and calling this wonderful political
Unity the CoonmonwealtJi, or the Civil Power, or the Sove'
reign, or by whatever name was found most pleasing; he per-
sonified it by the image of " Leviathan." *
* Hobbes explains the image in his Introduction. He does not disguise
his opinion that Men may be converted into Automatons ; and if he were
not very ingenious we might lose our patience. He was so delighted with
this whimsical fancy of his "artificial man," that he carried it on to
government itself, and employed the engraver to impress the monstrous
personification on our minds, even clearer than by his reasonings. The
curious design forms the frontispiece of " The Leviathan." He borrowed
the name from that sea-monster, that mightiest of powers, which Job has
told is not to be compared with any on earth. The sea-monster is here,
however, changed into a colossal man, entirely made up of little men from
Hohbes. 441
At first sight the ideal monster might pass for an innocent
conceit ; and there appears even consummate wisdom in
erecting a colossal power for our common security; but
Hobbes assumed that Authority was to be supported to its
extreme pitch. Force with him appeared to constitute right,
and unconditional suhmission i\\Qi\he(i2im.Q a duty: these were
consequences quite natural to one who at his first step de-
graded man by comparing him to a watch, and who would
not have him go but with the same nicety of motion, wound
up by a great key.
To be secure, by the system of Hobbes, we must at least
lose the glory of our existence as intellectual beings. Pie
would persuade us into the dead quietness of a commonwealth
of puppets, while he was consigning into the grasp of his
"Leviathan," or sovereign power, the wire that was to com-
municate a mockery of vital motion — a principle of action '
without freedom. The system was equally desirable to the a ^
Protector Cromwell as to the regal Charles. A conspiracy oU
against mankind could not alarm their governors : it is not ^
therefore surprising that the usurper offered Hobbes the office
of Secretary of State ; and that he was afterwards pensioned :
by the monarch.
A philosophical system, moral or political, is often nothing '
more than a temporary expedient to turn aside the madness
of the times by substituting what offers an appearance of
relief ; nor is it a little influenced by the immediate conve-
nience of the philosopher himself; his personal character
enters a good deal into the system. The object of Hobbes in
all the classes of society, bearing in the right hand the sword, and in the
left the crosier. The compartments are full of political allegories. An
expression of Lord Clarendon's in the preface to his ** Survey of the Levi-
athan," shows our philosopher's infatuation to this "idol of the Den," as
Lord Bacon might have called the intellectual illusion of the philosopher.
Hobbes, when at Paris, showed a proof-sheet or two of his work to Cla-
rendon, who, he soon discovered, could not approve of the hardy tenets.
** He frequently came to me," says his lordship, "and told me his book
{which he would call Leviathan) was then printing in England. He
said, that he knew when I read his book I would not like it, and men-
tioned some of his conclusions : upon which I asked him, why he would
publish such doctrine ; to which, after a discourse, between jest and
earnest, he said, The truth is, I have a mind to go home /" Some philo-
sophical systems have, probably, been raised "between jest and earnest ;"
yet here was a text-book for the despot, as it is usually accepted, delibe-
rately given to the world, for no other purpose than that the philosopher
was desirous of changing his lodgings at Paris for his old apartments in
London 1
442 Quarrels of Authors.
his " Leviathan" was alwa^j^s ambiguous, because it was, in
truth, one of these systems of expediency, conveniently adapted
to what has been termed of late "existing circumstances." His
sole aim was to keep all things in peace, by creating one
mightiest power in the State, to suppress instantly all other
powers that might rise in insurrection. In his times, the
establishment of despotism was the onl}'^ political restraint he
could discover of sufficient force to chain man down, amid
the turbulence of society; but this concealed end he is per-
petually shifting and disguising ; for the truth is, no man
loved slavery less.*
* The duplicity of tlie system is strikingly revealed by Burnet, who
tells of Hobbes, that *' he put all the law in the will of the prince or the
people; for he writ his book at first in favour of absolute monarchy, but
turned it afterwards to gratify the republican party. These were his true
principles, though he had disguised them for deceiving unwary readers."
It is certain Hobbes became a suspected person among the royalists. They
were startled at the open extravagance of some of his political paradoxes ;
such as his notion of the necessity of extirpating all the Greek and Latin
authors, "by reading of which men from their childhood have gotten a
habit of licentious controuling the actions of their sovereigns." — p. 111.
But the doctrines of liberty were not found only among the Greeks and
Romans ; the Hebrews were stern republicans ; and liberty seems to have
had a nobler birth in the North among our German ancestors, than per-
haps in any other part of the globe. It is certain that the Puritans, who
warmed over the Bible more than the classic historians, had their heads
full of Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea ; the hanging of the five
kings of Joshua ; and the fat king of the Moabites, who in his summer-
room received a present, and then a dagger, from the left-handed Jewish
Jacobin. Hobbes curiously compares " The tyrannophobia, or fear of being
strongly governed," to the hydrophobia. "When a monarchy is once bitten
to the quick by those democratical writers, and, by their poison, men seem
to be converted into dogs," his remedy is, "a strong monarch," or "the
exercise of entire sovereignty," p. 171 ; and that the authority he would
establish should be immutable, he hardily asserts that "the ruling power
cannot be punished for mal-administration. " Yet in this elaborate system
of despotism are interspersed some strong republican axioms, as The safety
of the people is the supreme law, — The public good to be preferred to that
of the individual : — and that God made the one for the many^ and not the
many for the one. The effect the Leviathan produced on the royal party
was quite unexpected by the author. His hardy principles were considered
as a satire on arbitrary power, and Hobbes himself as a concealed favourer
of democracy. This has happened more than once with such vehement advo-
cates. Our philosopher must have been thunderstruck at the insinuation,
for he had presented the royal exile, as Clarendon in his "Survey" informs
us, with a magnificent copy of " The Leviathan," written on vellum ; this
beautiful specimen of caligraphy may still be seen, as we learn from the GeU'
tleman'' s Magazine ior Junusiry, 1813, where the curiosity is fully described.
The suspiciou of Hobbes's principles was so strong, that it produced hi
Hobbes. 443
The system of Hobbes could not be limited to politics : he
knew that the safety of the people's morals required an
Established Rsligion. The alHance between Church and State
had been so violently shaken, that it was necessary to cement
them once more. As our philosopher had been terrified in
his politics by the view of its contending factions, so, in reli-
gion, he experienced the same terror at the hereditary rancours
of its multiplied sects. He could devise no other means than
to attack the mysteries and dogmas of theologians, those
after-inventions and corruptions of Christianity, by which the
artifices of their chiefs had so long split them into perpetual
sudden dismissal from the presence of Charles II. when at Paris. The
king, indeed, said he believed Hobbes intended him no hurt ; and Hobbes
said of the king, "that his majesty understood his writings better than
his accusers. " However, happy was Hobbes to escape from France, where
the officers were in pursuit of him, amid snowy roads and nipping blasts.
The lines in his metrical life open a dismal winter scene for an old man on
a stumbling horse : —
"Frigus erat, nix alta, senex ego, ventus acerbus,
Vexat equus sternax, et salebrosa via — "
A curious spectacle ! to observe, under a despotic government, its vehe-
ment advocate in flight !
The ambiguity of "The Leviathan" seemed still more striking, when Hobbes
came, at length, to place the right of government merely in what he terms
"the Seat of Power," — a wonderful principle of expediency; for this was
equally commodious to the republicans and to the royalists. Ey this prin-
ciple, the republicans maintained the right of Cromwell, since his authority
was established, while it absolved the royalists from their burdensome
allegiance; for, according to "The Leviathan," Charles was. the English
monarch only when in a condition to force obedience ; and, to calm tender
consciences, the philosopher further fixed on that precise point of time,
" when a subject may obey an unjust conqueror." After the Restoration,
it was subtilely urged by the Hobbists, that this very principle had greatly
served the royal cause ; for it afforded a plea for the emigrants to return,
by compounding for their estates, and joining with those royalists who had
remained at home in an open submission to the established government ;
and thus they were enabled to concert their measures in common, for rein-
stating the old monarchy. Had the Restoi-ation never taken place, Hobbes
would have equally insisted on the soundness of his doctrine ; he would
have asserted the title of Richard Cromwell to the Protectorate, if Richard
had had the means to support it, as zealously as he afterwards did that of
Charles II. to the throne, when the king had firmly re-established it. The
philosophy of Hobbes, therefore, is not dangerous in any government ; its
sole aim is to preserve it from intestine divisions ; but for this purpose, he
was for reducing men to mere machines. With such little respect he
treated the species, and with such tenderness the individual !
I will give Hobbes's own justification, after the Restoration of Charles II.,
when accused by the great mathematician. Dr. Wallis, a republican under
Cromwell, of having written his work in defence of Oliver's government.
444 Quarrels of Authors.
factions:* he therefore asserted that the religion of the
people ought to exist, in strict conformity to the will of the
State, t
When Hobhes wrote against mysteries, the mere polemics
sent forth a cry of his impiety ; the philosopher was branded
with Atheism ; — one of those artful calumnies, of which, after
Hobbes does not deny that " he placed the right of government whereso-
ever should be the strength." Most subtilely he argues, how this very
principle "was designed in behalf of the faithful subjects of the king,"
after they had done their utmost to defend his rights and person. The
government of Cromwell being established, these found themselves without
the protection of a government of their own, and therefore might lawfully
promise obedience to their victor for the saving of their lives and fortunes ;
and more, they ought even to protect that authority in war by which they
were themselves protected in peace. But this plea, which he so ably urged
in favour of the royalists, will not, however, justify those who, like Wallis,
voluntarily submitted to Cromwell, because they were always the enemies
of the king ; so that this submission to Oliver is allowed only to the
royalists — a most admirable political paradox ! The whole of the argument
is managed with infinite dexterity, and is thus unexpectedly turned against
his accusers themselves. The principle of "self-preservation" is carried
on through the entire system of Hobbes. — Considerations upon the ReputU'
tion, Loyalty, d'c, of Mr. Hobbes.
* The passage in Hobbes to which I allude is in "The Leviathan,"
c. 32. He there says, sarcastically, "It is with the mysteries of religion
as with wholesome pills for the sick, which, swallowed whole, have the
virtue to cure ; but, chewed, are for the most part cast up again without
effect. Hobbes is often a wit : he was much pleased with this thought,
for he had it in his De Give; which, in the English translation, bears the
title of "Philosophical Rudiments Concerning Government and Society,"
1651. Thei-e he calls "the wholesome pills," "bitter." He translated
the De Give himself; a circumstance which was not known till the recent
appearance of Aubrey's papers.
+ Warburton has most acutely distinguished between the intention of
Hobbes and that of some of his successors. The bishop does not consider
Hobbes as an enemy to religion, not even to the Christian ; and even doubts
whether he has attacked it in " The Leviathan." At all events, he has
"taken dii-ect contrary measures from those of Bayle, Collins, Tindal,
Bolingbroke, and all that school. "They maliciously endeavoured to show
the Gospel was unreasonable ; Hobbes, as reasonable as his admirable wit
could represent it: they contended for the most unbounded toleration,
Hobbes for the most rigorous conformity." See the "Alliance between
Church and State," book i. c. v. It is curious to observe the noble disciple
of Hobbes, Lord Bolingbroke, a strenuous advocate for his political and
moral opinions, enraged at what he calls his "High Church notions."
Trenchard and Gordon, in their Independent Whig, No. 44, that libel
on the clergy, accuse them oi Atheism and Hobbism ; while some divines
as earnestly reject Hobbes as an Atheist ! Our temperate sage, though
angried at that spirit of contradiction which he had raised, must, however,
have sometimes smiled both on his advocates and his adversaries I
Hobbes, 445
a man has washed himself clean, the stam will be found to
have dyed the skin.*
* The odious term of A iheist has been too often applied to many great
men of our nation by the hardy malignity of party. Were I to present a
catalogue, the very names would refute the charge. Let us examine the
religious sentiments of Hobbes. The materials for its investigation are not
common, but it will prove a dissertation of facts. I warn some of my
readers to escape from the tediousness, if they cannot value the curiosity.
Hobbes has himself thrown out an observation in his ' ' Life of Thucydides"
respecting Anaxagoras, that "his opinions, being of a strain above the
apprehension of the vulgar, procured him the estimation of an Atheist,
which name they bestowed upon all men that thought not as they did of
their ridiculous religion, and in the end cost him his life." This was a
parallel case with Hobbes himself, except its close, which, however, seems
always to have been in the mind of our philosopher.
Bayle, who is for throwing all things into doubt, acknowledging that
the life of Hobbes was blameless, adds, One might, however, have been
tempted to ask him this question :
Heus age responde ; minimum est quod scire laboro ;
De Jove quid sentis ? — Persius, Sat. ii. v. 17.
Hark, now ! resolve this one short question, friend !
What are thy thoughts of Jove ?
But Bayle, who compared himself to the Jupiter of Homer, powerful in
gathering and then dispersing the clouds, dissipates the one he had just
raised, by showing how "Hobbes might have answered the question with
sincerity and belief, according to the writers of his life." — But had Bayle
known that Hobbes was the author of all the lives of himself, so partial an
evidence might have i-aised another doubt with the great sceptic. It rp-
pears, by Aubrey's papers, that Hobbes did not wish his biography should
appear when he was living, that he might not seem the author of it.
Baxter, who knew Hobbes intimately, ranks him with Spinosa, by a strong
epithet for materialists — "The JBrutists, Hobbes, and Spinosa." ' He tells
us that Selden would not have him in his chamber while dying, calling out,
" No Atheists !" But by Aubrey's papers it appears that Hobbes stood by
the side of his dying friend. It is certain his enemies raised stories against
him, and told them as suited their purpose. In the Lansdowne MSS. I
find Dr. Grrenville, in a letter, relates how " Hobbes, when in France, and
like to die, betrayed such expressions of repentance to a great prelate, from
whose mouth I had this relation, that he admitted him to the sacrament.
But Hobbes afterwards made this a subject of ridicule in companies." — Lans-
downe MSS. 990—73.
Here is a strong accusation, and a fact too ; yet, when fully developed,
the result will turn out greatly in favour of Hobbes.
Hobbes had a severe illness at Paris, which lasted six months, thus
noticed in his metrical life :
Dein per sex menses morbo decumbo propinque
Accinctus morti ; nee fugio, ilia fugit.
It happened that the famous Gfuy Patin was his physician ; and in one of
those amusing letters, where he puts down the events of the day, like a
newspaper of the times, in No. 61, has given an account of his intercourse
446 Quarrels of Authors,
To me it appears that Hobbes, to put an end to tTies©
religious wars, which his age and country had witnessed, per-
petually kindled by crazy fanatics and intolerant dogmatists,
insisted that the crosier should be carried in the left hand of
with the philosopher, in which he says that Hobbes endured such pain,
that he would have destroyed himself — " Qtt'il avoit voulu se titer." —
Patin is a vivacious writer : we are not to take him au pied de la lettre.
Hobbes was systematically tenacious of life : and, so far from attempting
suicide, that he wanted even the courage to allow Patin to bleed him ! It
was during this illness that the Catholic party, who like to attack a Pro-
testant in a state of unresisting debility, got his learned and intimate friend,
Father Mersenne, to hold out all the benefits a philosopher might derive
from their Church. ^Yhen Hobbes was acquainted with this proposed inter-
view (says a French contemporary, whose work exists in MS., but is quoted
in Joly's folio volume of Remarks on Bayle), the sick man answered,
*' Don't let him come for this ; I shall laugh at him ; and perhaps I may
convert him myself." Father Mersenne did come ; and when this mission-
ary was opening on the powers of Rome to grant a plenary pardon, he was
interrupted by Hobbes — "Father, I have examined, along time ago, all
these points ; I should be sorry to dispute now ; you can entertain me in
a more agreeable manner. When did you see Mr. Gassendi ?" The
monk, who was a philosopher, perfectly understood Hobbes, and this inter-
view never interrupted their friendship. A few days after. Dr. Cosin
(afterwards Bishop of Durham), the great prelate whom Dr. Grenville
alludes to, prayed with Hobbes, who first stipulated that the prayers
should be those authorised by the Church of England ; and he also
received the sacrament with reverence. Hobbes says: — "Magnum hoc
erga disciplinam Episcopalem signum erat reverentiae." — It is evident that
the conversion of Father Mersenne, to which Hobbes facetiously alluded,
could never be to Atheism, but to Protestantism : and had Hobbes been
an Atheist, he would not have risked his safety, when he arrived in Eng-
land, by his strict attendance to the Church of England, resolutely refusing
to unite with any of the sects. His views of the national religion were not
only enlightened, but in this respect he showed a boldness in his actions
very unusual with him.
But the religion of Hobbes was " of a strain beyond the apprehension of
the vulgar," and not very agreeable to some of the Church. A man may
have peculiar notions respecting the Deity, and yet be far removed from
Atheism ; and in his political system the Church may hold that subordinate
place which some Bishops will not like. When Dr. Grenville tells us
" Hobbes ridiculed in companies" certain matters M'hich the Doctor held
sacred, this is not sufficient to accuse a man of Atheism, though it may
prove him not to have held orthodox opinions. From the MS. collections
of the French contemporary, who well knew Hobbes at Paris, I transcribe
a remarkable observation : — "Hobbes said, that he was not surprised that
the Independents, who were enemies of monarchy, could not bear it in
heaven, and that therefore they placed there three Gods instead of one ;
but he was astonished that the English bishops, and those Presbyterians
who were favourers of monarchy, should persist in the same opinion con-
cerning the Trinity. He added, that the Episcopalians ridiculed the
Hohbes, 447
his Leviathan, and the sword in his right.* He testified, as
strongly as man could, by his public actions, that he was a
Christian of the Church of England, " as by law established,'*
and no enemy to the episcopal order ; but he dreaded the en-
Puritans, and the Puritans the Episcopalians ; but that the wise ridiculed
both alike." — Lantiniana MS. quoted by Joly, p. 434.
The religion of Hubbes was in conformity to State and Clourch. He
had, however, the most awful notions of the Divinity. He confesses he is
unacquainted with " the nature of God, but not with the necessity of the
existence of the Power of all powers, and First Cause of all causes ; so that
we know that God is, though not what he is." See his ** Human
Nature," chap. xi. But was the God of Hobbes the inactive deity of
Epicurus, who takes no interest in the happiness or misery of his created
beings ; or, as Madame de Stacl has expressed it, with the point and feli-
city of French antithesis, was this "an Atheism with a God ?" This con-
sequence some of his adversaries would draw from his principles, which
Hobbes indignantly denies. He has done more ; for in his I)e Corpore
Politico, he declares his belief of all the fundamental points of Christianity,
part i. c. 4, p. 116. Ed. 1652. But he was an open enemy to those "who
presume, out of Scripture, by their own interpretation, to raise any doc-
trine to the under standing, concerning those things which are incompre-
hensible ;" and he refers to St. Paul, who gives a good rule ** to think
soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith."
— Rom. xii. 3.
* This he pictures in a strange engraving prefixed to his book, and
representing a crowned figure, whose description will be found in the note,
p. 440. It is remarkable that when Hobbes adopted the principle that
the ecclesiastical should be united with the sovereign power, he was then
actually producing that portentous change which had terrified Luther and
Calvin ; who, even in their day, were alarmed by a new kind of political
Antichrist; that '* Csesarean Popery" which Stubbe so much dreaded, and
which I have here noticed, p. 358. Luther predicted that as the pope had
at times seized on the political sword, so this "Csesarean Popery," under
the pretence of policy, would grasp the ecclesiastical crosier, to form a poli-
tical church. The curious reader is referred to Wolfius Lectionum Memo-
rabilium et reconditarum, vol. ii. cent. x. p. 987, Calvin, in his com-
mentary on Amos, has also a remarkable passage on this political church,
animadverting on Amaziah, the priest, who would have proved the Bethel
worship warrantable, because settled by the royal authority: "It is the
king's chapel." Amos, vii. 13. Thus Amaziah, adds Calvin, assigns the
king a double function, and maintains it is in his power to transform reli-
gion into what shape he pleases, while he charges Amos with disturbing
the public repose, and encroaching on the royal prerogative. Calvin zeal-
ously reprobates the conduct of those inconsiderate persons, " who give
the civil magistrate a sovei'eignty in religion, and dissolve the Church into
the State." The supremacy in Church and State, conferred on Henry VIII.,
was the real cause of these alarms ; but the passage of domination raged
not less fiercely in Calvin than in Henry VIII. ; in the enemy of kings than
in kings themselves. Were the forms of religion more celestial from the
sanguinary hands of that tyrannical reformer than from those of the re-
448 Quarrels of Authors.
croachments of the Churchmen in his political system ; jealous
of that supremacy at which some of them aimed. Many en-
lightened bishops sided with the philosopher.* At a time
when Milton sullenly withdrew from every public testimonial
of divine worship, Hobbes, with more enlightened views,
attended Church service^ and strenuously supported an estab-
lished religion ; yet one is deemed a religious man, and the
other an Atheist ! Were the actions of men to be decisive of
their characters, the reverse might be inferred.
The temper of our philosopher, so ill-adapted to contradic-
tion, was too often tried ; and if, as his adversary, Harrington,
in the " Oceana," says, " Truth be a spark whereunto objec-
tions are like bellows," the mind of Hobbes, for half a century,
was a very forge, where the hammer was always beating, and
the flame was never allowed to be extinguished. Charles II.
strikingly described his worrying assailants. " Hobbes," said
the king, " was a bear against whom the Church played their
young dogs, in order to exercise them."t A strange repartee
has preserved the causticity of his wit. Dr. Eachard, perhaps
one of the prototypes of Swift, wrote two admirable ludicrous
dialogues, in ridicule of Hobbes's " State of Nature." J These
forming tyrant ? The system of our philosopher was, to lay all the wild
spirits which have haunted us in the chimerical shapes of non- conformity.
I have often thought, after much observation on our Church history since
the Reformation, that the devotional feelings have not been so much con-
cerned in this bitter opposition to the National Church as the rage of
dominion, the spirit of vanity, the sullen pride of sectarism, and the delu-
sions of madness.
* Hobbes himself tells us that "some bishops are content to hold their
authority from the hinges letters patents ; others wUl needs have somewhat
more they know iiot what of divine rights, &c. , not acknowledging the
power of the king. It is a relic still remaining of the venom of popish
ambition, lurking in that seditious distinction and division between the
power spiritual and civil. The safety of the State does not depend on the
safety of the clergy, but on the entireness of the sovereign power. ^' — Con-
siderations upon the Jleptutation, <kc. , of Mr. Hobbes, p. 44.
t This royal observation is recorded in the '* Sorberiana." Sorbiere
gleaned the anecdote during his residence in England. By the " Aubrey
Papers," which have been published since I composed this article, I find
that Charles II. was greatly delighted by the wit and repartees of Hobbes,
who was at once bold and happy in making his stand amidst the court wits.
The king, whenever he saw Hobbes, who had the privilege of being ad-
mitted into the royal presence, would exclaim, ' ' Here comes the bear to
be baited." This did not allude to his native roughness, but the force of
his resistance when attacked.
t See "Mr, Hobbes's State of Nature considered, in a Dialogue between
Philautus and Timothy." The second dialogue is not contained in the
Hobbes, 449
were much extolled, and kept up the laugh against the philo-
sophic misanthropist : once when he was told that the clergy-
said that "Eachard had crucified Hobbes," he bitterly retorted,
" Why, then, don't they fall down and worship me ?" *
" The Leviathan' ' was ridiculed by the wits, declaimed against
by the republicans, denounced by the monarchists, and menaced
by the clergy. The commonwealth man, the dreamer of
equality, Harrington, raged at the subtile advocate for des-
potic power; but the glittering bubble of his fanciful "Oceana"
only broke on the mighty sides of the Leviathan, wasting its
rainbow tints : the mitred Bramhall, at " The Catching of
Leviathan, or the Great Whale," flung his harpoon, demon-
strating consequences from the principles of Hobbes, which he
as eagerly denied. But our ambiguous philosopher had the
hard fate to be attacked even by those who were labouring to _^-
the same end.f The literary wars of Hobbes were fierce and ^^^^^^
Jbng; heroes he encountered, but'heroes too were fightingliy f
his side. Our chief himself wore a kind of magical armour ;
for, either he denied the consequences his adversaries deduced
from his principles, or he surprised by new conclusions, which
many could not discover in them ; but by such means he had not
only the art of infusing confidence among the Sobbists, but
the greater one of dividing his adversaries, who often re-
treated, rather fatigued than victorious. Hobbes owed this
partly to the happiness of a genius which excelled in contro- M
versy, but more, perhaps, to the advantage of the ground he / i-t/v
"occupied as a metaphysician : the usual darkness of that spot
is favourable to those shiftings and turnings which the equi- i
eleventh edition of Eachard's Works, 1705, which, however, was long after
his death, so careless were the publishers of those days of their authors'
works. The literary bookseller, Tom Davies, who ruined himself by giving
good editions of our old authors, has preserved it in his own.
* "A Discourse Concerning Irony," 1729, p. 13.
f Men of very opposite principles, but aiming at the same purpose, are
reduced to a dilemma, by the spirit of party in controversy. Sir Robert
Filmer, who wrote against "The Anarchy of a Limited Monarchy," and
" Patriarcha," to re-establish absolute power, derived it from the scriptural
accounts of the patriarchal state. But Sir Robert and Hobbes, though alike
the advocates for supremacy of power, were as opposite as possible on theo-
logical points. Filmer had the same work to perform, but he did not like the
instruments of his fellow-labourer. His manner of proceeding with Hobbes
shows his dilemma : he refutes the doctrine of the " Leviathan," while he
confesses that Hobbes is right in the main. The philosopher's reasonings
stand on quite another foundation than the scriptural authorities deduced
by Filmer. The result therefore is, that Sir Robert had the trouble to
confute the very thing he afterwards had to establish !
450 Quarrels of Authors.
vocal possessor may practise with an unwary assailant. Far
different was the fate of Hobbes in the open daylight of
mathematics : there his hardy genius lost him, and his sophis-
try could spin no web ; as we shall see in the memorable war
of twenty years waged between Hobbes and Dr. Wallis. But
the gall of controversy was sometimes tasted, and the flames
of persecution flashed at times in the closet of our philoso-
pher. The ungenerous attack of Bishop Fell, who, in the
Latin translation of Wood's " History of the University of
Oxford," had converted eulogium into the most virulent
abuse,* without the participation of Wood, who resented it
* It may be curious to some of my readers to preserve that part of
Hobbes' s Letter to Anthony Wood, in the rare tract of his "Latin
Life," in which, with great calmness, the philosopher has painfully col-
lated the odious interpolations. All that was written in favour of the
morals of Hobbes — of the esteem in which foreigners held him — of the
royal patronage, &c., were maliciously erased. Hobbes thus notices the
amendments of Bishop Fell : —
*' Nimirum ubi mihi tu ingenium attribuis Sohrium, ille, delete Sohrio,
substituit A cri.
' ' Ubi tu scripseras lAhellum, scripsit de Cive, interposuit ille inter Li-
hellum et de Give, rebus permiscendis natum, de Cive, quod ita manifestd
falsum est, &c.
"Quod, ubi tu de libro meo Leviathan scripsisti, primd, quod esset,
Vidnis gentibus notissimus interposuit ille, publico damno. Ubi tu
scripseras, scripsit librum^ interposuit ille monstrosissimum.^'
A noble confidence in his own genius and celebrity breaks out in this
Epistle to Wood. " In leaving out all that you have said of my character
and reputation, the dean has injured you, but cannot injure me ; for long
since has my fame winged its way to a station from which it can never
descend." One is surprised to find such a Miltonic spirit in the contracted
soul of Hobbes, who in his own system might have cynically ridiculed the
passion for fame, which, however, no man felt more than himself. In his
controversy with Bishop Bramhall (whose book he was cautious not to answer
till ten years after it was published, and his adversary was no more, pre-
tending he had never heard of it till then !) he breaks out with the same
feeling : — "What my works are, he was no fit judge ; but now he has
provoked me, I will say thus much of them, that neither he, if he had
lived, could — nor I, if I would, can — extinguish the light which is set up
in the world by the greatest part of them."
It is curious to observe that an idea occurred to Hobbes, which some
authors have attempted lately to put into practice against their critics — to
prosecute them in a court of law ; but the knowledge of mankind was one
of the liveliest faculties of Hobbes's mind : he knew well to what account
common minds place the injured feelings of authorship ; yet were a jury
of literary men to sit in judgment, we might have a good deal of business
in the court for a long time ; the critics and the authors would finally have
a very useful body of reports and pleadings to appeal to ; and the public
would be highly entertained and greatly instructed. On this attack of
Hobbes, 451
with his honest warmth, was only an arrow snatched from a
quiver which was every day emptying itself on the devoted
head of our ambiguous philosopher. JFell only vindicated
himself by a fresh invective on " the most vain and waspish
animal of Malmesbury," and Hobbes was too frightened to
reply. This was the Fell whom it was so difficult to assign
a reason for not liking :
I don't like thee, Dr. FeU,
The reason why I cannot tell,
But I don't like thee, Dr. Fell !
A curious incident in the history of the mind of this philo-
sopher, was the mysterious panic which accompanied him to
his latest day. It has not been denied that Hobbes was sub-
ject to o;3casional terrors : he dreaded to be left without com-
pany ; and a particular instance is told, that on the Earl of
Devonshire's removal from Chatsworth, the philosopher, then
in a dying state, insisted on being carried away, though on a
feather-bed. Various motives have been suggested to account
for this extraordinary terror. Some declared he was afraid of
spirits ; but he was too stout a materialist ! * — another, that
he dreaded assassination ; an ideal poniard indeed might scare
even a materialist. But Bishop Atterbury, in a sermon on
the Terrors of Conscience, illustrates their nature by the
character of our philosopher. Hobbes is there accused of at-
tempting to destroy the principles of religion against his own
inward conviction : this would only prove the insanity of
Bishop Fell, Hobbes says — " I might perhaps have an action on the case
against him, if it were worth my while ; but juries seldom consider the
Quarrels of Authors as of much moment."
* Bayle has conjured up an amusing theory of apparitions, to show that
Hobbes might fear that a certain combination of atoms agitating his brain
might so disorder his mind that it would expose him to spectral visions ;
and being very timorous, and distrusting his imagination, he was averse to
be left alone. Apparitions happen frequently in dreams, and they may
happen, even to an incredulous man, when awake, for reading and hearing
of them would revive their images — these images, adds Bayle, might play
him some unlucky trick ! We are here astonished at the ingenuity of a
disciple of Pyrrho, who in his inquiries, after having exhausted all human
evidence, seems to have demonstrated what he hesitates to believe ! Per-
haps the truth was, that the sceptical Bayle had not entirely freed him-
self from the traditions which were then still floating from the fireside to
the philosopher's closet : he points his pen, as ^neas brandished his sword
at the Gorgons and Chimeras that darkened the entrance of Hell ; wanting
the admonitions of the sibyl, he would have rushed in —
Et frmtra ferro diverberet umbras.
CtQ2
452 Quarrels of Authors,
Hobbes ! The Bishop shows that " the disorders of conscience
are not a continued, but an intermitting disease ;" so that the
patient may appear at intervals in seeming health and real
ease, till the fits return : all this he applies to the case of our
philosopher. In reasoning on human affairs, the shortest way-
will be to discover human motives. The spirit, or the assassin
of Hobbes, arose from the bill brought into Parliament, when
the nation was panic-struck on the fire of London, against
Atheism and Profaneness ; he had a notion that a writ de
Tieretico comlurendo was intended for him by Bishop Seth
Ward, his quondam admirer.* His spirits would sink at
those moments ; for in the philosophy of Hobbes, the whole
universe was concentrated in the small space of Self. There
was no length he refused to go for what he calls " the natural
right of preservation, which we all receive from the uncon-
trollable dictates of Necessity." He exhausts his imagina-
tion in the forcible descriptions of his extinction : " the
terrible enemy of nature. Death," is always l^efore him. The
"inward horror" he felt of his extinction. Lord Clarendon
thus alludes to : " If Mr. Hobbes and some other man were
both condemned to death (which is the most formidable thing
Mr. Hobbes can conceive)" — and Dr. Eachard rallies him on
the infinite anxiety he bestowed on his hody, and thinks that
" he had better compound to be kicked and beaten twice a
day, than to be so dismally tortured about an old rotten cai'-
ease." Death was perhaps the oiity subject about which
Hobbes would not dispute.
Such a materialist was then liable to terrors ; and though,
* The papers of Aubrey confirm ray suggestion. I shall give the words^
** There was a report, and surely true, that in parliament, not long after
the king was settled, some of the bishops made a motion to have the good
old gentleman burned for a heretique ; which he hearing, feared that his
papers might be searched by their order, and he told me he had burned
part of them." — p. 612. When Aubrey requested Waller to write verses
on Hobbes, the poet said that he was afraid of the Churchmen. Aubrey
tells us — ** I have often heard him say that he was not afraid of Sprights^
but afraid of being knocked on the head for five or ten pounds which rogues
might think he had in his chamber." This reason given by Hobbes for
his frequent alarms was an evasive reply for too curious and talkative an
inquirer. Hobbes has not concealed the cause of his terror in his metrical
Uffr-'
** Tunc venit in mentem mihi Dorislaus et Ascham,
Tanquam proscripto terror ubique aderat."
Dr. Dorislaus and Ascham had fallen under the daggers of proscription.
[The former was assassinated in Holland, whither he had fled for safety.]
Hobbes, 453
when his works were humt, the author had not a hair singed,
the convulsion of the panic often produced, as Bishop Atter-
bury expresses it, "an intermitting disease."
Persecution terrified Hobbes, and magnanimity and courage
were no virtues in his philosophy. He went about hinting
that he was not obstinate (that is, before the Bench of
Bishops) ; that his opinions were mere conjectures, proposed
as exercises for the powers of reasoning. He attempted
(without meaning to be kidicrous) to make his opinions a
distinct object from his person; and, for the good order of the
latter, he appealed to the family chaplain for his attendance at
divine service, from whence, however, he always departed at
the sermon, insisting that the chaplain could not teach him
anything. It was in one of these panics that he produced his
" Historical Narrative of Heresy, and the Punishment there-
of," where, losing the dignity of the philosophic character, he
creeps into a subterfuge with the subtilty of the lawyer;
insisting that " The Leviathan," being published at a time
when there was no distinction of creeds in England (the
Court of High Commission having been abolished in the
troubles), that therefore none could be heretical.*
* It is said that Hobbes completely recanted all his opinions ; and pro-
ceeded so far as to declare that the opinions he had published in his
"Leviathan," were not his real sentiments, and that he neither main-
tained them in public nor in private. Wood gives this title to a work of
his — "An Apology for Himself and his Writings," but without date.
Some have suspected that this Apology, if it ever existed, was not his
own composition. Yet why not ? Hobbes, no doubt, thought that "The
Leviathan" would outlast any recantation ; and, after all, that a recanta-
tion is by no means a refutation ! — recantations usually prove the force of
authority, rather than the force of conviction. I am much pleased with a
Dr. Pocklington, who hit the etymology of the word recantation with the
spirit. Accused and censured, for a penance he was to make a recanta-
tion, which he began thus: — "If canto be to sing, recanto is to sing
again :" so that he re-chanted his offensive principles by his recantation!
I suspect that the apology Wood alludes to was only a republication of
Hobbes' s Address to the King, prefixed to the "Seven Philosophical
Problems," 1662, where he openly disavows his opinions, and makes an
apology for the "Leviathan." It is curious enough to observe how he
acts in this dilemma. It was necessary to give up his opinions to ^ihe
clergy, but still to prove they were of an innocent nature. He therefore
acknowledges that * ' his theological notions are not his opinions, but pro-
pounded with submission to the power ecclesiastical, never afterwards
having maintained them in writing or discourse." Yet, to show the king
that the regal power incurred no great risk in them, he laid down one
principle, which could not have been unpleasing to Charles II. He asserts,
ta-uly, that he never wrote against episcopacy ; "yet he is called aa
454
Quarrels of Authors.
No man was more speculatively bold, and more practically
timorous ;* and two very contrary principles enabled him,
through an extraordinary length of life, to deliver his opinions
and still to save himself : these were his excessive vanity and
his excessive timidity. The one inspired his hardy originality,
and the other prompted him to protect himself by any means.
His love of glory roused his vigorous intellect, while his fears
shrunk him into his little self. Hobbes, engaged in the cause
of truth, betrayed her dignity by his ambiguous and abject
conduct : this was a consequence of his selfish philosophy ;
and this conduct has yielded no dubious triumph to the noble
school which opposed his cynical principles.
A genius more luminous, sagacity more profound, and
morals less tainted, were never more eminently combined than
in this very man, who was so often reduced to the most abject
state. But the antisocial philosophy of Hobbes terminated
in preserving a pitiful state of existence. He who considered
nothing more valuable than life, degraded himself by the
meanest artifices of self-love,t and exulted in the most cynical
Atheist, or man of no religion, because he has made the authority of the
Church depend wholly upon the regal power, which, I hope, your majesty
will think is neither Atheism nor Heresy." Hobbes considered the religion
of his country as a subject of law, and not 'philosophy. He was not for
separating the Church from the State ; but, on the contrary, for joining
them more closely. The bishops ought not to have been his enemies ; and
many were not.
* In the MS. collection of the French contemporary, who personally
knew him, we find a remarkable confession of Hobbes. He said of him-
self that "he sometimes made openings to let in light, but that he could
not discover his thoughts but by half-views : like those who throw open
the window for a short time, but soon closing it, from the dread of the
storm." II disoit quHl faisoit quelquefois des ouvertures, mais qu'il ne
pouvoit decouvrir ses pensees qu'd-demi; qu^il imitoit ceux qui ouvrent
la fenitre pendant quelques momens, mais qui la referment promptement
de peur de forage.^' — Lantiniana MSS., quoted by Joly in his volume of
"Remarques sur Bayle."
+ Could one imagine that the very head and foot of the stupendous
" Leviathan" bear the marks of the little artifices practised for self by
its author ? This grave work is dedicated to Francis Godolphin, a person
whom its author had never seen, merely to remind him of a certain legacy
which that person's brother had left to our philosopher. If read with this
fact before us, we may detect the concealed claim to the legacy, which it
seems was necessary to conceal from the Parliament, as Francis Godolphin
resided in England. It must be confessed this was a miserable motive for
dedicating a system of philosophy which was addressed to all mankind.
It discovers little dignity. This secret history we owe to Lord Clarendon,
in his "Survey of the Leviathan," who adds another. The postscript to
the "Leviathan," which is only in the English edition, was designed as aa
Hobbes, 455
truths.* The philosophy of Hobbes, founded on fear and
suspicion, and which, in human nature, could see nothing
beyond himself, might make him a wary politician, but always
an imperfect social being. We find, therefore, that the phi-
losopher of Malmesbury adroitly retained a friend at court, to
protect him at an extremity ; but considering all men alike,
as bargaining for themselves, his friends occasioned him as
much uneasiness as his enemies. He lived in dread that the
Earl of Devonshire, whose roof had ever been his protection,
should at length give him up to the Parliament ! There are
no friendships among cynics !
To such a state of degradation had the selfish philosophy
reduced one of the greatest geniuses ; a philosophy true only
for the wretched and the criminal. f But those who feel moving
easy summary of the principles : and his lordship adds, as a sly address to
Cromwell, that he might be induced to be master of them at once, and
"as a pawn of his new subject's allegiance." It is possible that Hobbes
might have anticipated the sovereign power which the general was on the
point of assuming in the protectorship. It was natural enough that Hobbes
should deny this suggestion.
* The story his antagonist (Dr. Wallis) relates is perfectly in character
Hobbes, to show the Countess of Devonshii-e his attachment to life, de-
clared that " were he master of all the world to dispose of, he would give
it to live one day." *' But you have so many friends to oblige, had you
the world to dispose of!" "Shall I be the better for that when I am
dead ?" " No," repeated the sublime cynic, * * I would give the whole world
to live one day," He asserted that * ' it was lawful to make use of ill instru-
ments to do ourselves good," and illustrated it thus : — " Were I cast into
a deep pit, and the devil should put down his cloven foot, I would take
hold of it to be drawn out by it." It must be allowed this is a philosophy
which has a chance of being long popular ; but it is not that of another order
of human beings ! Hobbes would not, like Curtius, have leaped into a
" deep pit" for his country ; or, to drop the fable, have died for it in the
field or on the scaflFold, like the Falklands, the Sidneys, the Montroses —
all the heroic brotherhood of genius ! One of his last expressions, when
informed of the approaches of death, was — " I shall be glad to find a hole
to creep out of the world at." Everything was seen in a little way by this
great man, who, having reasoned himself into an abject being, "licked the
dust" through life.
+ In our country, Mandeville, Swift, and Chesterfield have trod in
the track of Hobbes ; and in France, Helvetius, Rochefoucault in his
"Maxims," and L' Esprit more openly in his " Fausette des Vertus
Humaines." They only degrade us — they are polished cynics ! But what
are we to think of the tremendous cynicism of Machiavel ? That great
genius eyed human nature with the ferocity of an enraged savage.
Machiavel is a vindictive assassin, who delights even to turn his dagger
within the mortal wound he has struck ; but our Hobbes, said his friend
Sorbiere, " is a gentle and skilful surgeon, who, with regret, cuts into the
456 Quarrels of Authors.
within themselves the benevolent principle, and who delight
in acts of social sympathy, are conscious of passions and mo-
tives, which the others have omitted in their system. And the
truth is, these "unnatural philosophers," as Lord Shaftesbury
expressively terms them, are by no means the monsters they tell
us they are : their practice is therefore usually in opposition
to their principles. While Hobbes was for chaining down
mankind as so many beasts of prey, he surely betrayed his
social passion, in the benevolent warnings he was perpetually
living flesh, to get rid of the con-upted." It is equally to be regretted
that the same system of degrading man has been adopted by some, under
the mask of religion.
Yet Hobbes, perhaps, never suspected the arms he was placing in the
hands of wretched men, when he furnished them with such fundamental
positions as, that *' Man is naturally an evil being ; that he does not love
his equal ; and only seeks the aid of society for his own particular pur-
poses." He would at least have disowned some of his diabolical disciples.
One of them, so late as in 1774, vented his furious philosophy in "An
Essay on the Depravity and Corruption of Human Nature, wherein the
Opinions of Hobbes, Mandeville, Helvetius, &c. are supported against
Shaftesbury, Hume, Steme, &c. by Thomas O'Brien M'Mahon." This
gentleman, once informed that he was horn wicked, appears to have con-
sidered that wickedness was his paternal estate, to be turned to as profit-
able an account as he could. The titles of his chapters, serving as a string of
the most extraordinary propositions, have been preserved in the ** Monthly
Review," vol. lii. 77. The demonstrations in the work itself must be
still more curious. In these axioms we find that * ' Man has an enmity to
all beings ; that had he power, the first victims of his revenge would be
his wife, children, &c. — a sovereign, if he could reign with the unbounded
authority every man longs for, free from apprehension of punishment for
misrule, would slaughter all his subjects ; perhaps he would not leave one
of them alive at the end of his reign." It was perfectly in character with
this wretched being, after having quarrelled with human nature, that he
should be still more inveterate against a small part of her family, with
whom he was suffered to live on too intimate terms ; for he afterwards
published another extraordinary piece — "The Conduct and Good-Nature
of Englishmen Exemplified in their charitable way of Characterising the
Customs, Manners, &c. of Neighbouring Nations ; their Equitable and
Humane Mode of Governing States, &c. ; their Elevated and Courteous
Deportment, &c. of which their own Authors are everywhere produced as
Vouchers," 1777. One is tempted to think that this O'Brien M'Mahon,
after all, is only a wag, and has copied the horrid pictures of his masters,
as Hogarth did the School of Rembrandt by his "Paul before Felix, de-
signed and scratched in the true Dutch taste." These works seem, how-
ever, to have their use. To have carried the conclusions of the Anti-
social Philosophy to as great lengths as this writer has, is to display their
absurdity. But, as every rational Englishman will appeal to his own
heart, in declaring the one work to be nothing but a libel on the nation ;
so every man, not destitute of virtuous emotions, will feel the other to be
a libel on human nature itself.
Hohbes, 457
giving them ; and while he affected to hold his brothers in
contempt, he was sacrificing laborious days, and his peace of
mind, to acquire celebrity. Who loved glory more than this
sublime cynic? — " GZory," says our philosopher, "by those
whom it displeaseth, is called Pride; by those whom it
pleaseth, it is termed a just valuation of Tiimself.^''* Had
Hobbes defined, as critically, the passion of self-love, without
resolving all our sympathies into a single monstrous one, we
might have been disciplined without being degraded.
Hobbes, indeed, had a full feeling of the magnitude of his
labours, both for foreigners and posterity, as he has expressed
it in his life. He disperses, in all his works, some Montaigne-
like notices of himself, and they are eulogistic. He has not
omitted any one of his virtues, nor even an apology for his
deficiency in others. He notices with complacency how
Charles II. had his portrait placed in the royal cabinet ; how
it was frequently asked for by his friends, in England and in
France.f He has written his life several times, in verse and
in prose ; and never fails to throw into the eyes of his adver-
saries the reputation he gained abroad and at home. J He
* *' Human Nature," c. ix.
+ Hobbes did not exaggerate the truth. Aubrey says of Cooper's por-
trait of Hobbes, that * ' he intends to borrow the picture of his majesty,
for Mr. Loggan to engrave an accurate piece by, which will sell well at home
and abroad.'' We have only the rare print of Hobbes by Faithome, pre-
fixed to a quarto edition of his Latin Life, 1682, remarkable for its expres-
sion and character. Sorbiere, returning from England, brought home a
portrait of the sage, which he placed in his collection ; and strangers, far
and near, came to look on the physiognomy of a great and original thinker.
One of the honours which men of genius receive is the homage the public
pay to their images : either, like the fat monk, one of the heroes of the
Epistolcz obscurorum Virorum, who, standing before a portrait of Eras-
mus, spit on it in utter malice ; or when they are looked on in silent reve-
rence. It is alike a tribute paid to the masters of intellect. They have
had their shrines and pilgrimages.
None of our authors have been better known, nor more highly con-
sidered, than our Hobbes, abroad. I find many curious particulars of him
and his conversations recorded in French works, which are not known to
the English biographers or critics. His residence at Paris occasioned this.
See Ancillon's Melange Critique, Basle, 1698 ; Patiu's Letters, 61 ; Sor-
beriana ; Niceron, tome iv. ; Joly's Additions to Bayle. — All these contain
original notices on Hobbes.
Ij: To his Life are additions, which nothing but the self-love of the
author could have imagined.
"Amicorum Elenchus." — He might be proud of the list of foreigners
and natives.
*' Tractuiun contra Hobbium editorum Syllabus."
y
458 Quarrels of Authors.
delighted to show he was living, by annual publications ; and
exultingly exclaims, " That when he had silenced his adver-
saries, he published, in the eighty-seventh year of his life,
the Odyssey of Homer, and the next year the Iliad, in English
verse."
His greatest imperfection was a monstrous egotism — the
fate of those who concentrate all their observations in their
own individual feelings. There are minds which may think
too much, by conversing too little with books and men.
Hobbes exulted he had read little ; he had not more than
half-a-dozen books about him ; hence he always saw things in
his own way, and doubtless this was the cause of his mania
for disputation.
He wrote against dogmas with a spirit perfectly dogmatic.
He liked conversation on the terms of his own political sys-
tem, provided absolute authority was established, peevishly
referring to his own works whenever contradicted ; and his
friends stipulated with strangers, that " they should not dis-
pute with the old man." But what are we to think of that
pertinacity of opinion which he held even with one as great
as himself? Selden has often quitted the room, or Hobbes
been driven from it, in the fierceness of their battle.* Even
to his latest day, the " war of words" delighted the man of
confined reading. The literary duels between Hobbes and
another hero celebrated in logomachy, the Catholic priest,
Thomas White, have been recorded by Wood. They had both
passed their eightieth year, and were fond of paying visits to
one another : but the two literary Nestors never met to part
in cool blood, " wrangling, squabbling, and scolding on philo-
sophical matters," as our blunt and lively historian has
described.f
" Eorum qui in Scriptis suis Hobbio contradixerunt Indiculus."
*' Qui Hobbii meminerunt seu in bonam seu in sequiorem partem."
"In Hobbii Defensionem." — Hobbes died 1679, aged 91- These two
editions are, 1681, 1682.
* This fact has been recorded in one of the pamphlets of Richard Bax-
ter, who, however, was no well-wisher to our philosopher. "Additional
Notes on the Life and Death of Sir Matthew Hale," 1682, p. 40.
f ** Athen. Oxon.," vol. ii. p. Q&5, ed. 1721. No one, however, knew
better than Hobbes the vanity and uselessness of words : in one place he
compares them to "a spiders web ; for, by contexture of words, tender
and delicate wits are insnared and stopped, but strong wits break easily
through them." The pointed sentence with which Warburton closes his
preface to Shakspeare, is Hobbes' s — that " words are the counters of the
wise, and tl><» money of fools."
Hobbes. 459
His little qualities were the errors of his own selfish philo-
sophy; his great ones were those of nature. He was a votary
to his studies :* he avoided marriage, to which he was in-
clined ; and refused place and wealth, which he might have
enjoyed, for literary leisure. He treated with philosophic
pleasantry his real contempt of money *^ His health and his
studies were the sole objects of his thoughts ; and notwith-
* Aubrey has minutely preserved for us the maimer in which Hobbes
composed his '* Leviathan :" it is very curious for literary students. *' He
walked much, and contemplated ; and he had in the head of his cane a pen
and inkhorn, and carried always a note-book in his pocket ; and as soon as
a thought darted, he presently entered it into his book, or otherwise might
have lost it. He had drawn the design of the book into chapters, &c., and
he knew whereabouts it would come in. Thus that book was made." —
Vol. ii. p. 607. Aubrey, the little Boswell of his day, has recorded an-
other literary peculiarity, which some authors do not assuredly sufficiently
use. Hobbes said that he sometimes would set his thoughts upon
researching and contemplating, always with this proviso : "that he very
mijch and deeply considered one thing at a time — for a week, or sometimes
a fortnight."
+ A small annuity from the Devonshire family, and a small pension from
Charles IL, exceeded the wants of his philosophic life. If he chose to
compute his income, Hobbes says facetiously of himself, in French sols or
Spanish maravedis, he could persuade himself that Croesus or Crassus were
by no means richer than himself ; and when he alludes to his property, he
considers wisdom to be his real wealth : —
(,** An qu^m dives, id est, qu^m sapiens fuerim ?"
He gave up his patrimonial estate to his brother, not wanting it himself ;
but he tells the tale himself, and adds, that though small in extent, it was
rich in its crops. Anthony Wood, with unusual delight, opens the cha-
racter of Hobbes : "Though he hath an ill name from some, and good from
others, yet he was a person endowed with an excellent philosophical soul,
was a contemner of riches, money, envy, the world, &c. ; a severe lover
of justice, and endowed with great morals ; cheerful, open, and free of his
discourse, yet without offence to any, which he endeavoured always to
avoid." What an enchanting picture of the old man in the green vigour of
his age has Cowley sent down to us !
" Nor can the snow which now cold age does shed
Upon thy reverend head,
Quench or allay the noble fires within ;
But all which thou hast been.
And all that youth can be, thou'rt yet :
So fully still dost thou
Enjoy the manhood and the bloom of wit.
And all the natural heat, but not the fever too.
So contraries on Etna's top conspire :
Th' embolden'd snow next to the flame does sleep. —
To things immortal time can do no wrong ;
And that which never is to die, for ever must be young."
460 Quarrels of Authors,
standing that panic which so often disturbed them, he wrote
and published beyond his ninetieth year. He closes the me-
trical history of his life with more dignity than he did his
life itself; for his mind seems always to have been greater
than his actions. He appeals to his friends for the congruity
of his life with his writings ; for his devotion to justice ; and
for a generous work, which no miser could have planned ;
and closes thus : —
And now complete my four-and-eighty years,
Life's lengthen 'd plot is o'er, and the last scene appears.*
Of the works of Hobbes we must not conclude, as Hume
tells us, that " they have fallen into neglect ;" nor, in the
style with which they were condemned at Oxford, that " they
are pernicious and damnable." The sanguine opinion of
the author himself was, that the mighty "Leviathan" will
stand for all ages, defended by its own strength ; for the
rule of justice, the reproof of the ambitious, the citadel of
the Sovereign, and the peace of the people.f But the smaller
* ** Ipse meos n6sti, Verdusi candide, mores,
Et tecum cuncti qui mea scripta legunt :
Nam mea vita meis non est incongrua scriptis ;
Justitiam doceo, Justitiamque cole.
Improbus esse potest nemo qui non sit avarus,
Nee pulchrum quisquam fecit avarus opus.
Octoginta ego jam complevi et quatuor annos ;
Pene acta est vitae fabula longa meae."
+ Hobbes, in his metrical (by no means his poetical) life, says, the more
the ** Leviathan" was written against, the more it was read ; and adds,
** Firmius inde stetit, spero stabitque per omne
JSvum, defensus viribus ipse suis.
Justitise mensura, atque ambitionis elenchus,
Eegum arx, pax populo, si doceatur, erit."
The term arx is here peculiarly fortunate, according to the system of the
author — it means a citadel or fortified place on an eminence, to which the
people might fly for their common safety.
His works were much read ; as appears by ** The Court Burlesqued," a
satire attributed to Butler.
** So those who wear the holy robes
That rail so much at Father HobbSf
Because he has exposed of late
The nakedness of Church and State ;
Yet tho' they do his books condemn,
They love to buy and read the same."
Our author, so late as in 1750, was still so commanding a genius, that
his works were collected in a handsome fl)lio ; but that collection is not
complete. When he could not get his works printed at home, he published
Hobhes, 461
treatises of Hobbes are not less precious. Locke is the
pupil of Hobbes, and it may often be doubtful whether the
scholar has rivalled the nervous simplicity and the energetic
originality of his master.
The genius of Hobbes was of the first order ; his works
abound with the most impressive truths, in all the simplicity
^^f thought and language, yet he never elevates nor delights,
loo faithful an observer of the miserable human nature before
him, he submits to expedients ; he acts on the defensive ; and
because he is in terror, he would consider security to be the
happiness of man. In Religion he would stand by an
established one ; yet thus he deprives man of that moral
freedom which God himself has surely allowed us. Locke
has the glory of having first given distinct notions of the
nature of toleration. In Folitics his great principle is the
establishment of Authority, or, as he terms it, an " entireness
of sovereign power :" here he seems to have built his argu-
ments with such eternal truths and with such a contriving
wisdom as to adapt his system to all the changes of govern-
ment. Hobbes found it necessary in his day to place this
despotism in the hands of his colossal monarch ; and were
Hobbes now living, he would not relinquish the principle,
though perhaps he might vary the application ; for if
Authority, strong as man can create it, is not suffered to
exist in our free constitution, what will become of our free-
dom ? Hobbes would now maintain his system by depositing
his " entireness of sovereign power " in the Laws of his
Country. So easily shifted is the vast political machine of
the much abused "Leviathan !" The Citizen of Hobbes, like
the Frince of Machiavel, is alike innocent, when the end of
their authors is once detected, amid those ambiguous means
by which the hard necessity of their times constrained their
mighty genius to disguise itself.
It is, however, remarkable of Systems of Opinions, that the
founder's celebrity has usually outlived his sect's. Why are
systems, when once brought into practice, so often discovered
to be fallacies ? It seems to me the natural progress of
them in Latin, including his mathematical works, at Amsterdam, by
Blaew, 1668, 4to. His treatises, **De Give," and "On Human Nature,"
are of perpetual value, Gassendi recommends these admirable works, and
PuflFendorff acknowledges the depth of his obligations. The Life of
Hobbes in the " Biographia Britannica," by Dr. Campbell, is a work of
curious research.
462 Quarrels of Authors.
system-making. A genius of this order of invention long
busied with profound observations and perpetual truths, would
appropriate to himself this assemblage of his ideas, by stamp-
ing his individual mark on them ; for this purpose he strikes
out some mighty paradox, which gives an apparent connexion
to them all : and to this paradox he forces all parts into sub-
serviency. It is a minion of the fancy, which his secret pride
supports, not always by the most scrupulous means. Hence the
system itself, with all its novelty and singularity, turns out to
be nothing more than an ingenious deception carried on for
the glory of the inventor ; and when his followers perceive
they were the dupes of his ingenuity, they are apt, in quitting
the system, to give up all ; not aware that the parts are as
true as the whole together is false ; the sagacity of Gfeniue
collected the one, but its vanity formed the other !
HOBBES'S QUARRELS
WITH
DR. WALLIS THE MATHEMATICIAN.
Hob BBS's passion for the study of Mathematics began late in life — attempts
to be an original discoverer — attacked by Wallis — various replies and
rejoindei-s — nearly maddened by the opposition he encountered — after
lour years Oi truce, the war again renewed — character of Hobbes by Dr.
"Wallis, a specimen of invective and irony ; serving as a remarkable
instance how the greatest genius may come down to us disguised by the
arts of an adversary — Hobbes's noble defence of himself ; of his own great
reputation ; of his politics ; and of his religion — a literary stratagem of
his — reluctantly gives up the contest, which lasted twenty years.
The Mathematical War between Hobbes and the celebrated
Dr. Wallis is now to be opened. A series of battles, the
renewed campaigns of more than twenty years, can be
described by no term less eventful. Hobbes himself con-
sidered it as a war, and it was a war of idle ambition, in which
he took too much delight. His "Amata Mathemata"
became his pride, his pleasure, and at length his shame.
He attempted to maintain his irruption into a province
he ought never to have entered in defiance, by " a new
method ;" but having invaded the powerful natives, he seems
to have almost repented the folly, and retires, leaving " the
unmanageable brutes " to themselves :
Ergo meam statuo non ultra perdere opellam
Indocile expectans discere posse pecus.
His language breathes war, while he sounds his retreat, and
confesses his repulse. The Algebraists had all declared against
the Invader.
Wallisius contra pugnat ; victusque videbar
Algebristarum Theiologumque scholis,
Et simul eductus Castris exercitus omnia
Pugnse securus Wallisianus ovat.
And,
Pugna placet vertor —
Bella mea audisti — &e.
464 Quarrels of Authors.
So that we have sufficient authority to consider this Literary
Quarrel as a wai', and a " Bellum Peloponnesiacum" too, for
it lasted as long. Political, literary, and even personal feel-
ings were called in to heat the temperate blood of two
Mathematicians.
Wliat means this tumult in a Vestal's veins ?
Hobbes was one of the many victims who lost themselves
in squaring the circle, and doubling the cube. He applied,
late in life, to mathematical studies, not so much, he says, to
learn the subtile demonstrations of its figures, as to acquire
those habits of close reasoning, so useful in the discovery of
new truths, to prove or to refute. So justly he reasoned on
mathematics ; but so ill he practised the science, that it made
him the most unreasonable being imaginable, for he resisted
mathematical demonstration itself I*
His great and original character could not but prevail in
everything he undertook ; and his egotism tempted him to
raise a name in the world of Science, as he had in that of
Politics and Morals. With the ardour of a young mathema-
tician, he exclaimed, ^^ Eureka T^ " I have found it." The
quadrature of the circle was indeed the common Dulcinea of
the Quixotes of the time ; but they had all been disenchanted.
Hobbes alone clung to his ridiculous mistress. Kepeatedly
confuted, he was perpetually resisting old reasonings and pro-
ducing new ones. Were only genius requisite for an able
mathematician, Hobbes had been among the first ; but patience
and docility, not fire and fancy, are necessary. His reasonings
were all paralogisms, and he had always much to say, from
not understanding the subject of his inquiries.
When Hobbes published his " De Corpore Philosophico,"
1655, he there exulted that he had solved the great mystery.
Dr. Wallis, the Savilian professor of mathematics at Oxford,t
* The origin of his taste for mathematics was purely accidental : begun
in love, it continued to dotage. According to Aubrey, he was forty years
old when, *' being in a gentleman's library, Euclid's Elements lay open at
the 47th Propos. lib. i., which, having read, he swore 'This is impos-
sible !' He read the demonstration, which referred him back to another —
at length he was convinced of that truth. This made him in love with
geometry. I have heard Mr. Hobbes say that he was wont to draw lines
on his thighs and on the sheets a-bed."
t The author of the excellent Latin grammar of the English language,
80 useful to every student in Europe, of which work that singular patriot,
Thomas Hollis, printed an edition, to present to all the learned Institu-
tions of Europe. Henry Stubbe, the celebrated physician of Warwick, to
Hobbes^s Mathematical War. 465
witli a deep aversion to Hobbes's political and religious senti-
ments, as he understood them, rejoiced to see this famous
combatant descending into his own arena. He certainly was
eager to meet him single-handed ; for he instantly confuted
Hobbes, by his " Elenchus Geometrise Hobbianae." Hobbes,
who saw the newly-acquired province of his mathematics in
danger, and which, like every new possession, seemed to
involve his honour more than was necessary, called on all the
world to be witnesses of this mighty conflict. He now pub-
lished his work in English, with a sarcastic addition, in a
magisterial tone, of " Six Lessons to the Professors of Mathe-
matics in Oxford.'' These were Seth Ward* and Wallis,
both no friends to Hobbes, and who hungered after him as a
relishing morsel. Wallis now replied in English, by " Due
Correction for Mr. Hobbes, or School-discipline for not saying
his Lessons Right," 1656. That part of controversy which
is usually the last had already taken place in their choice of
phrases.f
whom the reader has been introduced, joined, for he loved a quarrel, in
the present controversy, when it involved philosophical matters, siding with
Hobbes, because he hated Wallis. In his "Oneirocritica, or an Exact Ac-
count of the Grammatical Parts of this Controversy," he draws a strong
character of Wallis, who was indeed a great mathematician, and one of
the most extraordinary decypherers of letters ; for perhaps no new system of
character could be invented for which he could not make a key ; by which
means he had rendered the most important services to the Parliament.
Stubbe quaintly describes him as "the sub-scribe to the tribe of Adoniram"
(i. e. Adoniram Byfield, who, with this cant name, was scribe to the fana-
tical Assembly of Divines), and " as the glory and pride of the Presby-
terian faction,"
* Dr. Seth Ward, after the Restoration made Bishop of Salisbury, said,
some years before this event was expected, that "he had rather be the
author of one of Hobbes's books than be king of England." But after-
wards he seemed not a little ii)clined to cry out Crucifige ! He who, to
one of these books, the admirable treatise on *' Human Nature," had pre-
fixed one of the highest panegyrics Hobbes could receive ! — A then. Oxon.
vol. ii. p. 647.
f It is mortifying to read such language between two mathematicians, iu
the calm inquiries of square roots, and the finding of mean proportionals
between two straight lines. I wish the example may prove a warning.
Wallis thus opens on Hobbes :— "It seems, Mr. Hobbs, that you have a
mind to say your lesson, and that the mathematic professors of Oxford
should hear you. You are too old to learn, though you have as much need
as those that be younger, and yet will think much to be whipped.
" What moved you to say your lessons in English, when the books against
which you do chiefly intend them were wi itten in Latin ? Was it chiefly
for the perfecting your natural rhetoric whenever you thought it convenient
to repair to Billingsgate ? — You found that the oyster-women could not
466 Quarrels of Authors.
In the following year the campaign was opened by Hobbes
with " 2TirMAI ; or, marks of the absurd Geometry, rural
Language, Scottish Church-politics, and Barbarisms, of John
Wallis." Quick was the routing of these fresh forces; not
one was to escape alive ! for Wallis now took the field with
" Hobbiani Puncti dispunctio ! or, the undoing of Mr.Hobbes's
Points ; in answer to Mr. Hobbes's STIPMAI, id est, Stigmata
Hobbii." Hobbes seems now to have been reduced to great
straits ; perhaps he wondered at the obstinac}-- of his adver-
sary. It seems that Hobbes, who had been used to other
studies, and who confesses all the algebraists were against
him, could not conceive a point to exist without quantity ; or
a line could be drawn without latitude ;, or a superficies be
without depth or thickness ; but mathematicians conceive
them without these qualities, when they exist abstractedly in
the mind ; though, when for the purposes of science they are
produced to the senses, they necessarily have all the qualities.
It was understanding these figures, in the vulgar way, which
led Hobbes into a labyrinth of confusions and absurdities.*
They appear to have nearly maddened the clear and vigorous
intellect of our philosopher ; for he exclaims, in one of these
writings : —
" I alone am mad, or they are all out of their senses : so
that no third opinion can be taken, unless any will say that
we are all mad."
Four years of truce were allowed to intervene between the
next battle ; when the irrefutable Hobbes, once more collect-
ing his weak and his incoherent forces, arranged them, as well
as he was able, into " Six Dialogues," 1661. The utter anni-
hilation he intended for his antagonist fell on himself.
Wallis borrowing the character of " The Self-tormentor " from
Terence, produced " Hobbius Heauton-timorumenos (Hobbes
teacli you to rail in Latin. Now you can, upon all occasion, or without
occasion, give the titles of fool, beast, ass, dog, &c., which I take to be but
barking ; and they are no better than a man might have at Billingsgate for
a box o' the ear.
"You tell us, 'though the beasts that think our railing to be roaring
have for a time admired us ; yet now you have showed them our ears, they
will be less affrighted.' Sir, those persons (the professors themselves) needed
Eot the sight oiyour ears, but could tell by the voice what kind of creature
irayed in your books : you dared not have said this to their faces." — He
bitterly says of Hobbes, that "he is a man who is always writing what
wat> answered before he had written."
♦ Dr. Campbell's art. on Hobbes, in "Biog. Brit." p. 2619.
Ilobbes's Mathematical War. 467
the Self-tormentor) ; or, a Consideration of Mr. Hobbes's
Dialogues ; addressed to Robert Boyle," 1662.
This attack of Wallis is of a ver}^ opposite character to the
arid discussion of abstract blunders in geometry. He who
began with points, and doubling the cube, and squaring the
circle, now assumes a loftier tone, and carrying his personal
and moral feelings into a mere controversy between two idle
mathematicians, he has formed a solemn invective, and edged
it with irony. I hope the reader has experienced sufficient
interest in the character of Hobbes to read the long, but
curious extract I shall now transcribe, with that awe and
reverence which the old man claims. It will show how even
the greatest genius may be disguised, when viewed through
the coloured medium of an adversary. One is, however, sur-
prised to find such a passage in a mathematical work.
" He doth much improve ; I mean he doth, prq/lcere in
pejus ; more, indeed, than T could reasonably have expected
he would have done; — insomuch, that I cannot but profess
some relenting thoughts (though T had formerly occasion to
use him somewhat coarsely), to see an old man thus fret and
torment himself to no purpose. You, too, should pity 3''our
antagonist ; not as if he did deserve it, but because he needs
it ; and as Chremes, in Terence, of his Senex, his self-torment-
ing Menedemus —
Cum videam miserum hunc tarn excruciarier
Miseret me ejus. Quod potero adjutabo senem.
" Consider the temper of the man, to move your pity ; a
person extremely passionate and peevish^ and wholly impatient
of contradiction. A temper which, whether it be a greater
fault or torment (to one who must so often meet with what
he is so ill able to bear), is hard to say.
" And to this fretful humour you must add another as bad,
which feeds it. You are therefore next to consider him as
one higlily opinionative and magisterial. Fanciful in his con-
ceptions, and deeply enamoured with those pJiantasmes, with-
out a rival. He doth not spare to profess, upon all occasions,
how incomparably he thinks himself to have surpassed all,
ancient, modern, schools, academies, persons, societies, philoso-
phers, divines, heathens, Christians ; how despicable he thinks
all their writings in comparison of his ; and what hopes he
hath, that, by tlie sovereign command of some absolute prince,
all other doctrines being exploded^ his new dictates should he
nn2
468 Quarrels of Authors.
peremptorily im'posed, to he alone taugJit in all scliools and
pulpits, and universally submitted to. To recount all which
he speaks of himself magnificently, and contemptuously of
others, would fill a volume. Should some idle person read
over all his hooks, and collecting together his arrogant and
supercilious speeches, applauding himself, and despising all
other men, set them forth in one synopsis, with this title,
Ilohhius de se — what a pretty piece of pageantry this would
make !
"The admirable sweetness of your own nature has not
given you the experience of such a temper : yet your contem-
plation must have needs discerned it, in those symptoms
which you l;ave seen it work in others, like the strange effer-
vescence, ebullition, fumes, and fetors, which you have some-
times given yourself the content to observe, in some active
acrimonious chymical spirits upon the injection of some con-
trariant salts strangely vexing, fretting, and tormenting itself,
while it doth but administer sport to the unconcerned specta-
tor. Which temper, being so eminent in the person we have
to deal with, your generous nature, which cannot but pity-
affliction, how much soever deserved, must needs have some
compassion for him : who, besides those exquisite torments
wherewith he doth afflict himself, like that
quo Siculi non invenere Tyranni
Tormeatum majus —
is unavoidably exposed to those two great miscJiiefs ; an in-
capacity to be taught what he doth not know, or to be advised
when he thinks amiss ; and moreover, to this inconvenience,
that he must never hear his faults hut from his adversaries ;
for those who are willing to be reputed friends must either
not advertise what they see amiss, or incommode themselves.
" But, you will ask, what need he thus torment himself ?
What need of pity ? If he have hopes to be admitted the sole
dictator in philosophy, civil and natural, in schools and pulpits,
and to be owned as the only magister sententiarum, what
would he have more ?
"True, if he have; but what if he have notl That he had
gome hopes of such an honour, he hath not been sparing to let
us know, and was providing against the envy that might
attend it {nee deprecahor invidiam, sed augendo, ulciscar,
was his resolution) ; but I doubt these hopes are at an end.
He did not find (as he expected) that ihe fairies and hobgoblins
Hobbes's Mathematical War. 469
(for PTicTi he reputes all that went before him) did vanish pre-
sently, upon the first appearance of his sunshine : and, which
is worse, while he was on the one side guarding himself against
env?/, he is, on the other side, unhappily surprised by a worse
enemy, called contempt, and with which he is less able to
grapple.
" I forbear to mention (lest I might seem to reproach that
age which I reverence) the disadvantages which he may sus-
tain by his old age. 'Tis possible that time and age, in a
person somewhat morose, may have riveted faster that pre-
conceived opinion of his own worth and excellency beyond
others. 'Tis possible, also, that he may h'dv a forgotten much
of what once he knew. He may, perhaps, be sometimes more
secure than safe ; while trusting to what he thinks a firm
foundation, his footing fails him ; nor always so vigilant or
quicksighted as to discern the incoherence or inconsequence of
his own discourses ; unwilling, notwithstanding, to make use
of the eyes of other men, lest he should seem thereby to dis-
parage his own ; but certainly (though his will may be as
good as ever) his paints are less vegete and nimble, as to inven-
tion at least, than in his younger days,
" While he had endeavoured only to raise an expectation,
or put the world in hopes of what great things he had in
hand {to render all philosophy as clear and certain as Euclid's
Elejjients), if he had then died, it might, perhaps, have been
thought by some that the world had been deprived of a great
philosopher, and learning sustained an invaluable loss, by the
abortion of so desired a piece. But since that Partus Montis
is come to light, and found to be no more than what little
animals have brought forth, and that deformed enough and
unamialle, he might have sooner gone off the stage with more
advantage than now he is like to do; such is the misfortune
for a man to outlive his reputation !
" By this time, perhaps, you may see cause to pity him
while you see him falling. But if you consider him tumhling
headlong from so great a height, 'twill make some addition to
that compassion which doth already begin to work. You are
therefore next to consider that when, upon the account of
geometry, he was unsafely mounted to that height of vanity,
he did unhappily fall into the hands of two mathematicians,
who have used him so unmercifully as would have put a per-
son of greater patience into passion, and meeting with such a
temper, have so discomposed him that he hath ever since
470 Quarrels of Authors,
talJced idly : and to augment the grief, these mathematicians
were both divines — he had rather have fallen by any other
hand. These matJie^natical divines (a term which he had
thought incomponible) began to unravel the wrong end ; and
while he thought they should have first untiled the roof, and
by degrees gone downward, they strike at Wiq foundation, and
make the building tumble all at once ; and that in such confu-
sion, that by dashing one part against another, they make
each help to destroy the whole. They first fall upon his last
reserve, and rout his mathematics beyond a possibility of
rallying ; and hj firing his magazine upon the first assault,
make his own weapons Jight against him. Not contented
herewith, they enter the hreach, and pursue the rout through
his Logics, Physics, Metaphysics, Theology, where they find
all in confusion."
This invective and irony from this celebrated mathematician,
so much out of the path of his habitual studies, might have
proved a tremendous blow ; but the genius of Hobbes was
invulnerable to mere human opposition, unless accompanied by
the supernatural terrors of penal fires or perpetual dungeons.
Our hero received the whole discharge of this battering train,
and stood invulnerable, while he returned the fire in " Con-
siderations upon the Reputation, Loyalt}'', Manners, and
Religion of Thomas Hobbes, of Malmesbury, written by way
of Letter to a learned person, Dr. Wallis," 1662.
It is an extraordinary production. His lofty indignation
retorts on the feeble irony of his antagonist with keen and
caustic accusations ; and the green strength of youth was still
seen in the old man whose head was covered with snows.
From this spirited apology for himself I shall give some
passages. Hobbes thus replied to Dr. Wallis, who atfected to
consider the old man as a fit object for commiseration.
" You would make him contemptible, and move Mr. Boyle
to pity him. This is a way of railing too much beaten to be
thought witty : besides, 'tis no argument of your contempt
to spend upon him so many angry lines, as would have fur-
nished you with a dozen of sermons. If you had in good
earnest despised him, you would have let him alone, as he does
Dr. Ward, Mr. Baxter, Pike, and others, that have reviled him
as you do. As for his reputation beyond the seas, it fades not
yet ; and because, perhaps, you have no means to know it, I will
cite yoa a passage of an epistle written by a learned French-
Hobbes^s Mathematical War. 471
man to an eminent person in France, in a volume of epistles."
Hobbes quotes the passage at length, in which his name
appears joined with Galileo, Descartes, Bacon, and Ga&sendi.
In reply to Wallis' sarcastic suggestion that an idle person
should collect together Hobbes's arrogant and supercilious
speeches applauding himself, under one title, ILohhius de se,
he says —
" Let your idle person do it ; Mr. Hobbes shall acknowledge
them under his hand, and be commended for it, and you
scorned. A certain Roman senator having propounded some-
thing in the assembly of the people, which they, misliking,
made a noise at, boldly bade them hold their peace, and told
them he knew better what was good for the commonwealth
than all they ; and his words are transmitted to us as an
argument of his virtue; so much do truth and vanity alter the
complexion of selj -'praise. You can have very little skill in
morality, that cannot see the justice of commending a man's
self, as well as of anything else, in his own defence ; and it
was want of prudence in you to constrain him to a thing
that would so much displease you.
" When you make his age a reproach to him, and show no
cause that might impair the faculties of his mind, but only age,
I admire how you saw not that you reproached all old men in
the world as much as him, and warranted all young men, at a
certain time which they themselves shall define, to call you
fool I Your dislike of old age you have also otherwise suffi-
ciently signified, in venturing so fairly as you have done to
escape it. But that is no great matter to one that hath so
many marks upon him of much greater reproaches. By Mr.
Hobbes's calculation, that derives prudence from experience,
and experience from age, you are a very young man ; but, by
your own reckoning, you are older already than Methuselah.'*
" During the late trouble, who made both Oliver and the
people mad but the preachers of your principles ? But besides
the wickedness, see the folly of it. You thought to make
them mad, but just to such a degree as should serve your own
turn ; that is to say, mad, and yet just as wise as yourselves.
Were you not very imprudent to think to govern madness ?"
—p. 15.
" The king was hunted as a partridge in the mountains,
and though the hounds have been hanged, yet the hunters
were as guilty as they, and deserved no less punishment.
472 Quarrels of Authors.
And the decyplierers (Wallis had decyphered the royal
letters),* and all that blew the horn, are to be reckoned
among the hunters. Perhaps you would not have had the
prey killed, but rather have kept it tame. And yet who can
tell ? I have read of few kings deprived of their power by
their own subjects that have lived any long time after it, for
reasons that every man is able to conjecture."
He closes with a very odd image of the most cynical
contempt : —
" Mr. Hobbes has been always far from provoking any man,
though, when he is provoked, you find his pen as sharp as
yours. All you have said is error and railing ; that is, stinTc-
ing ivind, such as a jade lets fly when he is too hard girt upon
a full belly. I have done. I have considered you now, but
will not again, whatsoever preferment any of your friends
shall procure you."
These were the pitched battles ; but many skirmishes occa-
sionally took place. Hobbes was even driven to a ruse de
guerre. When he found his mathematical character in the
utmost peril, there appeared a pamphlet, entitled " Lux
Mathematica, &c., or. Mathematical Light struck out
from the clashings between Dr. John Wallis, Professor of
Geometry in the celebrated University of Oxford (celeber-
rima Academia), and Thomas Hobbes, of Malmesbury ;
augmented with many and shining rays of the Author, E. R."
1672.
Here the victories of Hobbes are trumpeted forth, but the
fact is, that R. R. should have been T. H. It was Hobbes's
own composition ! R. R. stood for Roseti Bepertor, that is,
the Finder of the Rosary, one of the titles of Hobbes's mathe-
matical discoveries. Wallis asserts that this R. R. may still
serve, for it may answer his own book, "Roseti Refutator, or,
the Refuter of the Rosary."
Poor Hobbes gave up the contest reluctantly ; if, indeed,
the controversy may not be said to have lasted all his life.
He acknowledges he was writing to no purpose ; and that the
medicine was obliged to yield to the disease.
Sed nil profeci, maguis authoribus Error
Fultus erat, cessit sic Medicina malo.
* Found in the king's tent at Naseby, and which were written to the
queen on important political subjects, in a cypher of which they only had
the key. They were afterwards published in a quarto pamphlet, and did
much mischief to the royal cause. — Ed.
Hobbes's Mathematical War, 473
He seems to have gone down to tlie grave, in spite of all
the reasonings of the geometricians on this side of it, with a
firm conviction that its superficies had both depth and thick-
ness.* Such were the fruits of a great genius, entering into a
province out of his own territories ; and, though a most
energetic reasoner, so little skilful in these new studies, that
he could never know when he was confuted and refuted.f
* The strange conclusions some mathematicians have deduced from their
principles concerning the real quantity of matter, and the reality of space^
have been noticed by Pope, in the Dunciad : —
*' Mad MatJiesis alone was unconfined,
Too mad for mere material chains to bind :
Now to fure space lifts her ecstatic stare ;
Now running round the circle, finds its square.''^
Dunciad, Book iv. ver. 31.
t When all animosities had ceased, after the death of Hobbes, I find
Dr. "Wallis, in a very temperate letter to Tenison, exposing the errors of
Hobbes in mathematical studies ; Wallis acknowledges that philology had
never entered ijjto his pursuits, — in this he had never designed to oppose
his superior genius ; but it was Hobbes who had too often turned his ma-
thematical into a philological controversy. Wallis has made a just obser-
vation on the nature of mathematical truths : — "Hobbes's argumentations
are destructive in one part of what is said in another. This is more con-
vincingly evident, and more \inpardonable, in mathematics than in other
discourses, which are things capable of cogent demonstration, and so evi-
dent, that though a good mathematician may be subject to commit an error,
yet one who understands but little of it cannot but see a fault when it is
showed him."
Wallis was an eminent genius in scientific pursuits. His art of decy-
phering letters was carried to amazing perfection ; and among other phe-
nomena he discovered was that of teaching a young man, born deaf and
dumb, to speak plainly. He humorously observes, in one of his letters : —
" I am now employed upon another work, as hard almost as to make Mr.
Hobbes understand mathematics. It is to teach a person dumb and deaf to
speak, and to understand a language."
JONSON AND DECKER.
Ben Jonson appears to have carried his military spirit into the literary re-
public — bis gross convivialities, with anecdotes of the prevalent taste in
that age for drinking-bouts — his '* Poetaster" a sort of Dunciad, be-
sides a personal attack on the frequenters of the theatres, with anecdotes
— his Apologetical Dialogue, which was not allowed to be repeated — cha-
racters of Decker and of Marston — Decker's Satiromastix, a parody on
Jonson's " Poetaster" — Ben exhibited under the character of "Horace
Junior" — specimens of that literary satire ; its dignified remonstrance,
and the honourable applause bestowed on the great bard — some foibles in
the literary habits of Ben, alluded to by Decker — Jonson's noble reply
to his detractors and rivals.
This quarrel is a splendid instance how genius of the first
order, lavishing its satirical powers on a number of contem-
poraries, may discover, among the crowd, some individual
who may return with a right aim the weapon he has himself
used, and who will not want for encouragenaent to attack the
common assailant : the greater genius is thus mortified by a
victory conceded to the inferior, which he himself had taught
the meaner one to obtain over him.
Jonson, in his earliest productions, " Every Man in his
Humour," and " Every Man out of his Humour," usurped
that dictatorship, in the Literary Republic, which he so
sturdily and invariably maintained, though long and hardily
disputed. No bard has more courageously foretold that pos-
terity would be interested in his labours ; and often with
very dignified feelings he casts this declaration into the teeth
of his adversaries : but a bitter contempt for his brothers and
his contemporaries was not less vehement than his affections
for those who crowded under his wing. To his " sons" and his
admirers he was warmly attached, and no poet has left be-
hind him, in MS., so many testimonies of personal fondness,
in the inscriptions and addresses, in the copies of his works
which he presented to friends : of these I have seen more
than one fervent and impressive.
DitUMMOND of Hawthornden, who perhaps carelessly and
imperfectly minuted down the heads of their literary confer-
Jonson and Decker, 475
ence on the chief authors of the age, exposes the severity of
criticism which Ben exercised on some spirits as noble as his
own. The genius of Jonson was rough, hardy, and invincible,
of which the frequent excess degenerated into ferocity ; and
by some traditional tales, this ferocity was still inflamed by
large potations : for Drummond informs us, " Drink was the
element in which he lived."* Old Ben had given, on two
* The gross convivialities of the times, from the age of Elizabeth, were
remarkable for several circumstances. Hard-drinking was a foreign vice,
imported by our military men on their return from the Netherlands : and
the practice, of whose prevalence Camden complains, was even brought to
a kind of science. They had a dialect peculiar to their orgies. See
"Curiosities of Literature," vol. ii. p. 294 (last edition).
Jonson's inclinations were too well suited to the prevalent taste, and he
gave as largely into it as any of his contemporaries. Tavern-habits were
then those of our poets and actors. Ben's Humours, at "the Mermaid,"
and at a later period, his Leges Convivales at "the Apollo," the club-room
of "the Devil," were doubtless one great cause of a small personal un-
happiness, of which he complains, and which had a very unlucky effect in
rendering a mistress so obdurate, who * ' through her eyes had stopt her
ears." This was, as his own verse tells us,
" His mountain-belly and his rocky face."
He weighed near twenty stone, according to his own avowal — an Ele-
phant-Cupid ! One of his " Sons," at the " Devil," seems to think that
his Catiline could not fail to be a miracle, by a certain sort of inspiration
which Ben used on the occasion.
"With strenuous sinewy words that Catiline swells,
I reckon it not among men-miracles.
How could that poem heat and vigour lack,
When each line oft cost Bkn a cup of sacJc ?"
R. Baron's Pocula Castalia, p. 113, 1650.
Jonson, in the Bacchic phraseology of the day, was "a Canary-bird."
" He would (says Aubrey) many times exceed in drink ; canary was his
beloved liquor ; then he would tumble home to bed ; and when he had
thoroughly perspired, then to study."
Tradition, too, has sent down to us several tavern-tales of "Eare Ben."
A good-humoured one has been preserved of the first interview between
Bishop Corbet, when a young man, and our great bard. It occurred at a
tavern, where Coi'bet was sitting alone. Ben, who had probably just
drank up to the pitch of good fellowship, desired the waiter to take to the
gentleman "a quart of raw wine ; and tell him," he added, " I sacri^ce
my service to him." — "Friend," replied Corbet, "I thank him for his
love ; but tell him, from me, that he is mistaken ; for sacrifices are always
burned" This pleasant allusion to the mulled wine of the time by the
young wit could not fail to win the affection of the master-wit himself.
Harl. MSS. 6395.
Ben is not viewed so advantageously, in an unlucky fit of ebriety re-
corded by Oldys, in his MS. notes on Langbaine ; but his authority is not to
me of a suspicious nature : be had drawn it from a MS. collection of
476 Quarrels of Authors,
occasions, some remarkable proofs of his personal intrepidity.
When a soldier, in the face of both armies, he had fought single-
handed with his antagonist, had slain him, and carried off his
arms as trophies. Another time he killed his man in a duel.
Jonson appears to have carried the same military spirit into
the Literary Republic.
Such a genius would become more tyrannical by success,
and naturally provoked opposition, from the proneness of man-
kind to mortify usurped greatness, when they can securely do it.
The man who hissed the poet's play had no idea that he might
himself become one of the dramatic personages. Ben then
produced his " Poetaster," which has been called the I) unciad
01disworth.'s, who appears to have been a curious collector of the history of
his times. He was secretary to that strange character, Philip, Earl of
Pembroke. It was the custom of those times to form collections of little
traditional stories and other good things ; we have had lately given to us by
the Camden Society an amusing one, from the L'Estrange family, and the
MS. already quoted is one of them. There could be no bad motive in re-
cording a tale, quite innocent in itself, and which is further confirmed by
Isaac Walton, who, without alluding to the tale, notices that Jonson pai-ted
from Sir Walter Raleigh and his son "not in cold blood." Mr. GifFord,
in a MS. note on this work, does not credit this story, it not being accor-
dant with dates. Such stories may not accord with dates or persons, and
yet may be founded on some substantial fact. I know of no injury to
Ben's poetical character, in showing that he was, like other men, quite in-
capable of taking care of himself, when he was sunk in the heavy sleep of
drunkenness. It was an age when kings, as our James I. and his majesty
of Denmark, were as often laid under the table as their subjects. My
motive for preserving the story is the incident respecting carrying men in
haslcets : it was evidently a custom, which perhaps may have suggested the
memorable adventure of FalstaflF. It was a convenient mode of conveyance
for those who were incapable of taking care of themselves before the in-
vention of hackney coaches, which was of later date, in Charles the First's
reign.
Camden recommended Jonson to Sir Walter Raleigh as a tutor to his son,
whose gay humours not brooking the severe studies of Jonson, took ad-
vantage of his foible, to degrade him in the eyes of his father, who, it
seems, was remarkable for his abstinence from wine : though, if another
tale be true, he was no common sinner in "the true Virginia." Young
Raleigh contrived to give Ben a surfeit, which threw the poet into a deep
slumber ; and then the pupil maliciously procured a buck-basket, and a
couple of men, who carried our Ben to Sir Walter, with a message that
"their young master had sent home his tutor." There is nothing impro-
bable in the story ; for the circumstance of caiTying drunken men in baS'
hets was a usual practice. In the Harleian MS. quoted above, I find more
than one instance ; I will give one. An alderman, carried in a porter's
basket, at his own door, is thrown out of it in a qualmish state. The
man, to frighten away the passengers, and enable the grave citieen to creep
in unobserved, exclaims, that the man had the falling sickness/
Jonson and Decker. 477
of those times ; but it is a Dunciad without notes. The per-
sonages themselves are now only known by their general
resemblance to nature, with the exception of two characters,
those of Crispinus and Demetrius*
In " The Poetaster," Ben, with flames too long smothered,
burst over the heads of all rivals and detractors. His enemies
seem to have been among all classes ; personages recognised
* These were Marston and Decker, but as is usual witli these sort of
caricatures, the originals sometimes mistook their likenesses. They were
both town-wits^ and cronies, of much the same stamp ; by a careful
perusal of their works, the editor of Jonson has decided that Marston was
Crispinus. With him Jonson had once lived on the moht friendly terms :
afterwards the great poet quarrelled with both, or they with him.
Dryden, in the preface to his " Notes and Observations on the Empress
of Morocco," in his quarrel with Settle, which has been sufficiently nar-
rated by Dr. Johnson, felt, when poised against this miserable rival, who
had been merely set up by a party to mortify the superior genius, as
Jonson had felt when pitched against Crispinus. It is thus that literary
history is so interesting to authors. How often, in recording the fates of
others, it reflects their own ! "I knew indeed (says Dryden) that to write
against him was to do him too great an honour ; but I considered Eeu
Jonson had done it before to Decker, our a'lthor's predecessor, whom he
chastised in his Poetaster, under the character of Crispinus^ Langbaine
tells us the subject of the " Satiromastix" of Decker, which I am to notice,
was "the witty Ben Jonson ;" and with this agree all the notices I have
hitherto met with respecting "the Horace Junior" of Decker's Satiro-
mastix. Mr. Gilchrist has published two curious pamphlets on Jonson ;
and in the last, p. 56, he has shown that Decker was "the poet-ape of
Jonson, " and that he avenged himself under the character of Crisjnnus in
his " Satiromastix ;" to which may be added, that the Fannius, in the same
satirical comedy, is probably his friend Marston.
Jonson allowed himself great liberty in personal satire, by which, doubt-
less, he rung an alarum to a waspish host ; he lampooned Inigo Jones,
the great machinist and architect. The lampoons are printed in Jonson's
works [but not in their entirety. The great architect had sufficient court
influence to procure them to be cancelled ; and the character of In-and-in
Medley, in " The Tale of a Tub," has come down to us with no other
satirical personal traits than a few fantastical expressions] ; and I have in
MS. an answer by Inigo Jones, in verse, so pitiful that I have not printed
it. That he condescended to bring obscure individuals on the stage,
appears by his character of Carlo Buffoon, in Every Man out of his
Humoior. He calls this "a second untruss," and was censured for having
drawn it from personal revenge. The Aubrey Papers, recently published,
have given us the character of this Carlo Buffoon, "one Charles Chester,
a bold impertinent fellow ; and they could never be at quiet for him ; a
perpetual talker, and made a noise like a drum in a room. So one time
at a tavern Sir Walter Raleigh beats him, and seals up his mouth ; i. e.,
his upper and nether beard, with hard wax." — p. 514. Such a character
was DO unfitting object for dramatic satire. Mr. Gilchrist's pamphlets de-
fended Jonson from the frequent accusations raised against him for the
478 Quarrels of Authors,
on the scene as soon as viewed ; poetical, military, legal, and
histrionic. It raised a host in arms. Jonson wrote an apolo-
getical epilogue, breathing a firm spirit, worthy of himself;
but its dignity was too haughty to be endured by contempo-
raries, whom genius must soothe by equality. This apologetical
dialogue was never allowed to be repeated ; now we may do it
with pleasure. Writings,Hke pictures, require a particular light
and distance to be correctly judged and inspected, without any
personal inconvenience.
One of the dramatic personages in this epilogue inquires
I never saw the play breed all this tumult.
What was there in it could so deeply oflFeud,
And stir so many hornets ?
The author replies
I never writ that piece
More innocent, or empty of offence ;
Some salt it had, but neither tooth nor gall.
Why, they say you tax'd
The law and lawyers, captains, and the players,
By their particular names.
It is not so :
I used no names. My books have still been taught
To spare the persons, and to speak the vices.
And he proceeds to tell us, that to obviate this accusation
he had placed his scenes in the age of Augustus.
To show that Virgil, Horace, and the rest
Of those great master-spirits, did not want
Detractors then, or practisers against them :
And by this line, although no parallel,
I hoped at last they would sit down and blush.
But instead of their " sitting down and blushing," we
find-
That they fly buzzing round about my nostrils j
And, like so many screaming grasshoppers
Held by the wings, fill every ear with noise.
Names were certainly not necessary to portraits, where
every day the originals were standing by their side. This
freedom of his muse, in such portraits after the life. Yet even our poet
himself does not deny their truth, while he excuses himself. In the dedi-
cation of "The Fox," to the two Universities, he boldly asks, "Where
have I been particular ? Where personal ? — Except to a mimic, cheater,
bawd, buffoon, creatures (for their insolencies) worthy to be taxed." The
mere list he here furnishes us with would serve to crowd one of the ** two-
penny audiences" in the small theatres of that day.
Jonson and Decker, 479
is the studied pleading of a poet, who knows he is coDceahng
the truth.
There is a passage in the play itself where Jonson gives
the true cause of "the tumult" raised against him. Picturing
himself under the character of his favourite Horace, he makes
the enemies of Horace thus describe him, still, however, pre-
serving the high tone of poetical superiority.
"Alas, sir, Horace is a mere sponge. Nothing but humours
and observations he goes up and down sucking from every
society, and when he comes home squeezes himself dry again.
He will pen all he knows. He will sooner lose his best friend
than his least jest. What he once drops upon paper against
a man, lives eternally to upbraid him."
Such is the true picture of a town-wit's life ! The age of
Augustus was much less present to Jonson than his own ; and
Ovid, Tibullus, and Horace were not the personages he cared
so much about, as " that society in which," it was said, " he
went up and down sucking in and squeezing himself dry :"
the formal lawyers, who were cold to his genius; the sharking
captains, who would not draw to save their own swords, and
would cheat "their friend, or their friend's friend," while
they would bully down Ben's genius ; and the little sycophant
histrionic, " the twopenny* tear-mouth, copper-laced scoun-
drel, stiff-toe, who used to travel with pumps full of gravel
after a blind jade and a hamper, and stalk upon boards and
barrel-heads to an old crackt trumpet ;" and who all now made
a party with some rival of Jonson.
All these personages will account for " the tumult " which
excites the innocent astonishment of our author. These only
resisted him by "fiUing every ear with noise." But one of
the " screaming grasshoppers held by the wings," boldly
turned on the holier with a scorpion's bite ; and Decker, who
had been lashed in " The Poetaster," produced his "Satiromas-
tix, or the un trussing of the humorous Poet." Decker was a
subordinate author, indeed ; but, what must have been very
galling to Jonson, who was the aggressor, indignation proved
such an inspirer, that Decker seemed to have caught some
portion of Jonson's own genius, who had the art of making
even Decker popular ; while he discovered that his own laurel-
wreath had been dexterously changed by the "Satiromastix'*
into a garland of " stinging nettles."
* Alluding, no doubt, to tlie price of seats at some of the minor theatres.
480 Quarrels of Authors.
In "The Poetaster," Crispi?tus is the picture of one of those
impertinent fellows who resolve to become poets, having an
equal aptitude to become anything that is in fashionable
request. When Hermogenes, the finest singer in Rome,
refused to sing, Crispinus gladly seizes the occasion, and
whispers the lady near him — " Entreat the ladies to entreat
me to sing, I beseech you." This character is marked by a
ludicrous peculiarity which, turning on an individyial charac-
teristic, must have assisted the audience in the true applica-
tion. Probably Decker had some remarkable head of hair,*
and that his locks hung not like " the curls of Hyperion ;"
for the jeweller's wife admiring among the company the per-
sons of Ovid, Tibullus, &c., Crispinus acquaints her that they
were poets, and, since she admires them, promises to become a
poet himself. The simple lady further inquires, " if, when he
is a poet, his looks will change ? and particulai'ly if his hair
will change, and be like those gentlemen's ?" " A man,"
observes Crispinus, " may be a poet, and yet not change his
hair." " Well !" exclaims the simple jeweller's wife, "we shall
see your cunning ; yet if you can change your hair, I pray
do it."
In two elaborate scenes, poor Decker stands for a full-length.
Resolved to be a poet, he haunts the company of Horace : he
meets him in the street, and discovers all the variety of his
nothingness : he is a student, a stoic, an architect : everything
by turns, "and nothing long." Horace impatiently attempts
to escape from him, but Crispinus foils him at all points.
This affectionate admirer is even willing to go over the world
with him. He proposes an ingenious project, if Horace will
introduce him to Maecenas. Crispinus ofi'ers to become "his
assistant," assuring him that " he would be content with the
next place, not envying thy reputation with thy patron ;" and
he thinks that Horace and himself "would soon lift out of
favour Virgil, Varius, and the best of them, and enjoy them
wholly to ourselves." The restlessness of Horace to extricate
himself from this " Hydra of Discourse," the passing friends
whom he calls on to assist him, and the glue-like pertinacity
of Crispinus, are richly coloured.
A ludicrous and exquisitely satirical scene occurs at the trial
* It was the fashion with the poets connected with the theatre to wear
long hair. Nashe censures Greene "for his fond (foolish) disguising of a
Master of Arts Cwhich was Greene's degree) with ruffianly hair." — Ed.
Jonson and Decker, 481
of Crispinus. andi his colleagues. Jonson has here introduced
an invention, which a more recent satirist so happily applied
to our modern Lexiphanes, Dr. Johnson, for his immeasurable
polysyllables, Horace is allowed by Augustus to make
Crispinus swallow a certain pill ; the light vomit discharges a
great quantity of hard matter, to clear
His brain and stomach of their tumorous heats.
These consist of certain affectations in style, and adultera-
tion of words, which offended the Horatian taste : " the basin"
is called quickly for and Crispinus gets rid easily of some, but
others were of more difficult passage : —
* Magnificate !' that came up somewhat hard !
Crispinus. * barmy froth '
Augustus. What's that ?
Crispinus. * Inflate ! — Turgidous ! — and Ventositous' —
Horace. * Barmy froth, inflate, turgidous, and ventosity are come up.
Tihullus, terrible windy words !
Qallus. A sign of a windy brain.
But all was not yet over : " Prorumpt" made a terrible
rumbling, as if his spirit was to have gone with it ; and
there were others which required all the kind assistance of
the Horatian " light vomit." This satirical scene closes with
some literary admonitions, from the grave Virgil, who details
to Crispinus the wholesome diet to be observed after his sur-
feits, which have filled
His blood and brain thus full of crudities.
Virgil's counsels to the vicious neologist, who debases the
purity of English diction by affecting new words or
phrases, may too frequently be applied.
You must not hunt for wild outlandish terms
To stuff" out a peculiar dialect ;
But let your matter run before your words.
And if at any time you chance to meet
Some Gallo-Belgick phrase, you shall not straight
Eack your poor verse to give it entertainment,
But let it pass ; and do not think yourself
Much damnified, if you do leave it out
"When not the sense could well receive it.
Virgil adds something which breathes all the haughty
spirit of Ben : he commands Crispinus :
I I
482 Quarrels of Authors,
Henceforth, leam
To bear yourself more humbly, nor to swell
Or breathe your insolent and idle spite
On him whose laughter can your worst affright :
and dismisses him
To some dark place, removed from company ;
He will talk idly else after his physic.
"The Satiromastix" may be considered as a parody on
" The Poetaster." Jonson, with classical taste, had raised his
scene in the court of Augustus : Decker, with great unhap-
piness, places it in that of William Rufus. The interest of
the piece arises from the dexterity with which Decker has
accommodated those very characters which Jonson has sati-
rised in his "Poetaster." This gratified those who came
every day to the theatre, delighted to take this mimetic re-
venge on the arch bard.
In Decker's prefatory address " To the World," he observes,
" Horace haled his Poetasters to the bar ;* the Poetasters
untrussed Horace: Horace made himself believe that his
Burgonian witf" might desperately challenge all comers,
and that none durst take up the foils against him." But
Decker is the Earl Eivers ! He had been blamed for the
personal attacks on Jonson ; for " whipping his fortunes and
condition of life ; where the more noble reprehension had been
of his mind's deformity." but for this he retorts on Ben.
Some censured Decker for barrenness of invention, in bringing
on those characters in his own play whom Jonson had stig-
matised ; but " it was not improper," he says, " to set the
same dog upon Horace, whom Horace had set to worry
others." Decker warmly concludes with defying the Jon-
sonians.
" Let that mad dog Detraction bite till his teeth be worn
to the stumps ; Envy, feed thy snakes so fat with poison till
they burst ; World, let all thy adders shoot out their Hydra-
headed forked stings ! I thank thee, thou true Venusian
Horace, for these good words tljou givest me. Populus me
sihilat, at mihi plaudo.^^
The whole address is spirited. Decker was a very popular
* Alluding to the trial of the Poetasters, which takes place before
Augustus and his poetical jury of Virgil, Ovid, TibuUus, &c., in Ben's play.
+ Decker alludes here to the bastard of Burgundy, who considered him-
self unmatchable, till he was overthrown in Smithfield by Woodville, Earl
Eivers.
r
Jonson and Decker. 483
writer, whose numerous tracts exhibit to posterity a more
detailed narrative of the manners of the town in the Eliza-
bethaa age than is elsewhere to he found.
In Decker's Satiromastix, Horace junior is first exhibited in
his study, rehearsing to himself an ode : suddenly the Pin-
daric rapture is interrupted by the want of a rhyme ; this is
satirically applied to an unlucky line of Ben's own. One of
his " sons," Asinius Bubo, who is blindly worshipping his
great idol, or " his Ningle," as he calls him, amid his admi-
ration of Horace, perpetually breaks out into digressive ac-
counts of what sort of a man his friends take him to be.
For one, Horace in wrath prepares an epigram : and for Om-
pinus and Fannius, brother bards, who threaten "they'll
bring your life and death on the stage, as a bricklayer in a
play," he saj^s, " I can bring a prepared troop of gallants,
who, for my sake, shall distaste every unsalted line in their
fly-blown comedies." " Ay," replies Asinius, " and all men
of my rank !" Grispinus, Horace calls " a light voluptuous
reveller," and Fannius " the slightest cobweb-lawn piece of a
poet." Both enter, and Horace receives them with all
friendship.
The scene is here conducted not without skill. Horace
complains that
When I dip my pen
In distill' d roses, and do strive to drain
Out of mine ink all gall —
Mine enemies, with sharp and searchin eyes,
Look through and through me.
And when my lines are measured out as straight
As even parallels, 'tis strange, that still, ,
Still some imagine that they" re drawn awry.
The error is not mine, but in their eye,
That cannot take proportions.
To the querulous satirist, Crispintts replies with dignified
gravity-
Horace ! to stand within the shot of galling tongues
Proves not your guilt ; for, could we write on paper
Made of these turning leaves of heaven, the clouds,
Or speak with angels' tongues, yet wise men know
That some would shake the head, though saints should sing ;
Some snakes must hiss, because they're born with stings.
Be not you grieved
If that which you mould fair, upright, and smooth,
Be screw'd awry, made crooked, lame, and vile,
By racking comments. —
ii2
484} Quarrels of Authors.
So to be bit it rankles not, for Innocence
May with a feather brush off the foul wrong.
But when your dastard v:it will strike at men
In corners, and in Hddles fold the vices
Of your best friends, you must not take to heart
If they take off all gilding from their pills,
And only offer you the bitter core. —
At this the galled Horace winces. Crispinus continues,
that it is in vain Horace swears, that
He puts on
The office of an executioner,
Only to strike off the swoln head of sin,
Where'er you find it standing. Say you swear,
And make damnation, parcel of your oath.
That when your lashing jests make all men bleed,
Yet you whip none — court, city, country, friends,
Foes, all must smart alike. —
Fannius, too, joins, and shows Ben the absurd oaths he
takes, when he swears to all parties, that he does not mean
them. How, then, of five hundred and four, five hundred
Should all point with their fingers in one instant,
At one and the same man ?
Horace is awkwardly placed between these two friendly
remonstrants, to whom he promises perpetual love.
Captain Tucca, a di'amatic personage in Jonson's Poetaster,
and a copy of his own Bobadil, whose original the poet had
found at " Powles," the fashionable lounge of that day, is
here continued with the same spirit ; and as that character
permitted from the extravagance of its ribaldry, it is now
made the vehicle for those more personal retorts, exhibiting
the secret history of Ben, which perhaps twitted the great
bard more than the keenest wit, or the most solemn admoni-
tion which Decker could ever attain. Jonson had cruelly
t<:)uched on Decker being out at elbows, and made himself too
merry with the histrionic tribe : he, who was himself a poet,
and had been a Thespian ! The blustering captain thus
attacks the great wit : — " Do'st stare, my Saracen's head at
Newgate ? I'll march through thy Dunkirk guts, for shoot-
ing jests at me." He insists that as Horace, " that sly knave,
whose shoulders were once seen lapp'd in a player's old cast
cloak," and who had reflected on Crispinus's satin doublet
being ravelled out j that he should wear one of Crispinus^ s
Jonson and Decker, 485
"old cast sattin suits," and that Fannitts should wiite a
couple of scenes for his own " strong garlic comedies," and
Horace should swear that they were his own — he wouVd easily
bear " the guilt of conscience." " Thy Muse is but a hagler,
and wears clothes upon best be trust (a humorous Deckeriau
phrase) — thou'rt ^reat in somebody's books for this 1" Bid
it become Jonson to gibe at the histrionic tribe, who is himself
accused of "treading the stage, as if he were treading mortar."*
He once put up — " a supplication to be a poor journeyman
player, and hadst been still so, but that thou couldst not set
a good face upon't. Thou hast forget how thou ambled'st in
leather-pilch, by a play-waggon in the highway ; and took'st
mad Jeronimo's part, to get service among the mimics," &c.
Ben's person was, indeed, not gracious in the playfulness of
love or fancy. A female, here, thus delineates Ben : —
" That same Horace has the most ungodly face, by my fan ;
it looks for all the world like a rotten russet-apple, when 'tis;
bruised. It's better than a spoonful of cinnamon-water next
my heart, for me to hear him speak ; he sounds it so i' th'
nose, and talks and rants like the poor fellows under Lud-
gate — to see his face make faces, when he reads his songs and
sonnets."
Again, we have Ben's face compared with that of his
favourite, Horace's — " You staring Leviathan ! look on the
sweet visage of Horace ; look, parboil'd face, look — he has not
his face punchtfull of eyelet-holes, like the cover of a warm-
ing-pan."
Joseph Warton has oddly remarked that most of our poets
were handsome men. Jonson, however, was not poetical on
that score ; though his bust is said to resemble Menander's.
Such are some of the personalities with which Decker
recriminated.
Horace is thrown into many ludicrous situations. He is
told that "admonition is good meat." Various persons bring
forward their accusations ; and Horace replies that they envy
him,
Because I hold more worthy company.
The greatness of Ben's genius is by no means denied by
* Horace acknowledges lie played Zulziman at Paris-garden. " Sir
Vaughan : Then, master Horace, you played the part of an honest man — "
Tncca exclaims : " Death of Hercules ! he could never play that part well
in's lile i"
486 Quarrels of Authors.
his rivals ; and Decker makes Fannius reply, with noble feel-
ings, and in an elevated strain of poetry : —
Good Horace, no ! my cheeks do blush for thine,
As often as thou speakst so ; where one true
And nobly virtuous spirit, for thy best part
Loves thee, I wish one, ten ; even from my hcai't !
I make account, I put up as deep share
In any good man's love, which thy worth earns,
As thou thyself ; we envy not to see
Thy friends with bays to crown thy poesy.
No, here the gall lies ; — We, that know what stuff
Thy very heart is made of, know the stalk
On which thy learning grows, and can give life
To tby, once dying, baseness ; yet must we
Dance anticke on your paper — .
But were thy warp'd soul put in a new mould,
I'd wear thee as a jewel set in gold.
To which one adds, that "jewels, master Horace, must be
hanged, you know." This " Whip of Men," with Asinius
his admirer, are brought to court, transformed into satyrs,
and bound togetlier : " not lawrefied, but nettle-fied ;" crowned
with a wreath of nettles.
With stinging-nettles crown his stinging wit.
Horace is called on to swear, after Asinius had sworn to
give up his " Ningle."
" Now, master Horace, you must be a more horrible swearer ;
for your oath must be, like your wits, of many colours ; and
like a broker's book, of many parcels."
Horace offers to swear till his hairs stand up on end, to be
rid of this sting. " Oh, this sting!" alluding to the nettles.
" 'Tis not your sting of conscience, is it ?" asks one. In the
inventory of his oaths, there is poignant satire, with strong
humour ; and it probably exhibits some foibles in the literary
habits of our bard.
He swears " Not to hang himself, even if he thought any
man could write pla^^s as well as himself; not to bombast
out a new play with the old linings of jests stolen from the
Temple's Bevels ; not to sit in a gallery, when your comedies
have entered their actions, and there make vile and bad faces
at every line, to make men have an e^^e to you, and to make
players afraid ; not to venture on the stage, when your play
is ended, and exchange courtesies and compliments with gal-
lants to make all the house rise and cry — ' That's Horace
Jonson and Becker, 487
that's he that pens and purges humours.' When you hid all
your friends to the marriage of a poor couple, that is to say,
your Wits and Necessities — alias, a poet's Whitsun-ale — you
shall swear that, within three days after, you shall not abroad,
in bookbinders' shops, brag that your viceroys, or tributary-
kings, have done homage to you, or paid quarterage. More-
over, when a knight gives you his passport to travel in and
out to his company, and gives you money for God's sake —
you will swear not to make scald and wry-mouthed jests upon
his knighthood. When your plays are misliked at court, you
shall not cry Mew ! like a puss-cat, and say, you are glad you
write out of the courtier's element ; and in brief, when you
sup in taverns, amongst your betters, you shall swear not to
dip your manners in too much sauce ; nor, at table, to fling
epigrams or play-speeches about you."
The king observes, that
He whose pen
Draws both corrupt and clear blood from all men
Careless what vein he pricks ; let him not rave
When his own sides are struck ; blows, blows do crave.
Such were the bitter apples which Jonson, still in his youth,
plucked from the tree of his broad satire, that branched over
all ranks in society. That even his intrepidity and hardiness
felt the incessant attacks he had raised about him, appears
from the close of theApologetical Epilogue to "The Poetaster;"
where, though he replies with all the consciousness of genius,
and all its haughtiness, he closes with a determination to give
over the composition of comedies ! This, however, like all
the vows of a poet, was soon broken ; and his masterpieces
were subsequently produced.
Friend. Will you not answer then the libels I
A uthor. No.
Friend. Nor the Untrussers
Author. Neither.
Friend. You are undone, then.
Author. With whom?
Friend. The world.
Author. The bawd !
Friend. It will be taken to be stupidity or tameness in you.
Author. But they that have incensed me, can in soul
Acquit me of that guilt. They know I dare
To spurn or baffle them ; or squirt their eyes
With ink or urine : or I could do worse,
Arm'd with ArchiJochus' fury, write iambicks.
Would make the desperate lashers hang themselves. —
488 Quarrels of Authors,
His Friend tells him that he is accused that "all his
writing is mere railing ;" which Jonson nobly compares to
" the salt in the old comedy ;" that they say, that he is slow,
and " scarce brings forth a play a year."
Author. 'Tis true,
I would they could not say that I did that.
He is angry that their
Base and beggarly conceits
Should carry it, by the multitude of voices,
Against the most abstracted work, opposed
To the stufft nostrils of the drunken rout. —
And then exclaims with admirable enthusiasm —
this would make a learn'd and liberal soul
To rive his stained quill up to the back.
And damn his long-watch'd labours to the fire ;
Things, that were born, when none but the still night,
And the dumb candle, saw his pinching throes.
And again, alluding to these mimics —
This 'tis that strikes me silent, seals my lips.
And apts me rather to sleep out my time,
Than I would waste it in contemned strifes
With these vile Ibides, these unclean birds.
That make their mouths their clysters, and still purge
From their hot entrails.* But I leave the monsters
To their own fate. And since the Comic Muse
Hath proved so ominous to me, I will try
If Tragedy have a more kind aspect.
Leave me ! There's something come into my thought
That must and shall be sung, high and aloof,
Safe from the wolf's black jaw, and the dull ass's hool
Friend. I reverence these raptures, and obey them.
* Among those arts of imitation which man has derived from the prac-
tice of animals, naturalists assure us that he owes the use of clysters to
the Egyptian Ibis. There are some who pretend this medicinal invention
comes from the stork. The French are more like Ibises than we are : ils
ie donnent des lavements eux-memes. But as it is rather uncertain what
the Egyptian Ills is ; whether, as translated in Leviticus xi. 17, the cor-
morant, or a species of stork, or only "a great owl," as we find in
Calmet ; it would be safest to attribute the invention to the unknown
bird, I recollect, in Wicklifie's version of the Pentateuch, which I once
saw in MS. in the possession of my valued friend Mr. Douce, that that
venerable translator interpolates a little, to tell us that the Ibis "^giveth ta
herself a purge."
Jonson and Decker. 489
Such was the nohle strain in which Jonson repHed to his
detractors in the town and to his rivals about him. Yet this
poem, composed with all the dignity and force of the bard,
was not suifered to be repeated. It was stopped by authority.
But Jonson, in preserving it in his works, sends it " to
POSTERITY, that it may make a difference between their
manners that provoked me then, and mine that neglected them
ever."
CAMDEN AND BROOKE.
Literary, like political liistory, is interested in the cause of an obscure
individual, when deprived of his just rights — character of Camden —
Brooke's "Discovery of Errors" in the "Britannia" — his work dis-
turbed in the printing — afterwards enlarged, but never suffered to be
published — whether Brooke's motive was personal rancour ! — the per-
secuted author becomes vindictive — his keen reply to Camden — Cam-
den's beautiful picture of calumny — Brooke furnishes a humorous com-
panion-piece — Camden's want of magnanimity and justice— when great
authors are allowed to suppress the works of their adversary, the public
receives the injury and the insult.
Ix the literary as well as the political commonwealth, the
cause of an obscure individual violently deprived of his just
rights is a common one. We protest against the power of
genius itself, wh^n it strangles rather than wrestles with its
adversary, or combats in mail against a naked man. The
general interests of literature are involved by the illegitimate
suppression of a work, of which the purpose is to correct
another, whatever may be the invective which accompanies
the correction : nor are we always to assign to malignant
motives even this spirit of invective, which, though it betrays
a contracted genius, may also show the earnestness of an honest
one.
The quarrel between Camden", the great author of the
"Britannia," and Brooke, the "York Herald," may illus-
trate these principles. It has hitherto been told to the shame
of the inferior genius ; but the history of Brooke was im-
perfectly known to his contemporaries. Crushed by oppres-
sion, his tale was marred in the telling. A century sometimes
passes away before the world can discover the truth even of a
private history.
Brooke is aspersed as a man of the meanest talents, insen-
sible to the genius of Camden, rankling with envy at his fame,
and correcting the "Britannia" out of mere spite.
When the history of Brooke is known, and his labours
fairly estimated, we shall blame him much less than he has
been blamed ; and censure Camden, who has escaped all cen-
Camden and Brooke, 491
sure, and whose conduct, in the present instance, was destitute
of magnanimity and justice.
The character of the author of " Britannia" is great, and
this error of his feeUngs, now first laid to his charge, may be
attributed as much to the weakness of the age as to his own
extreme timidity, and perhaps to a little pride. Conscious as
was Camden of enlarged views, we can easily pardon him for
the contempt he felt, when he compared them with the
subordinate ones of his cynical adversary.
Camden possessed one of those strongly directed minds
which early in life plan some vast labour, while their imagi-
nation and their industry feed on it for many successive
years ; and they shed the flower and sweetness of their lives
in the preparation of a work which at its maturity excites
the gratitude of their nation. His passion for our national
antiquities discovered itself even in his school-days, grew up
with him at the University ; and, when afterwards engaged
in his public duties as master at Westminster school, he there
composed his " Britannia," " at spare hours, and on festival
days." To the perpetual care of his work, he voluntarily
sacrificed all other views in life, and even drew himself away
from domestic pleasures ; for he refused marriage and prefer-
ments, which might interrupt his beloved studies ! The work
at length produced, received all the admiration due to so great
an enterprise ; and even foreigners, as the work was composed
in the universal language of learning, could sympathise with
Britons, when "they contemplated the stupendous labour.
Camden was honoured by the titles (for the very names of
illustrious genius become such), of the Varro, the Strabo, and
the Pausanias of Britain.
While all Europe admired the "Britannia," a cynical
genius, whose mind seemed bounded by his confined studies,
detected one error amidst the noble views the mighty volume
embraced ; the single one perhaps he could perceive, and for
which he stood indebted to his office as " York Herald."
Camden, in an appendage to the end of each county, had
committed numerous genealogical errors, which he afterwards
affected, in his defence, to consider as trivial matters in so
great a history, and treats his adversary with all the con-
tempt and bitterness he could inflict on him ; but Ralph
Brooke entertained very high notions of the importance of
heraldical studies, and conceived that the " Schoolmaster"
Camden, as he considered him, had encroached on the rights
492 Quarrels of Authors.
and honours of his College of Heralds. When particular ob-
jects engage our studies, we are apt to raise them in the scale
of excellence to a degree disproportioned to their real value ;
and are thus liable to incur ridicule. But it should be con-
sidered that many useful students are not philosophers, and
the pursuits of their lives are never ridiculous to them. It is
not the interest of the public to degrade this class too low.
Every species of study contributes to the perfection of human
knowledge, by that universal bond which connects them all
in a philosophical mind.
Brooke prepared " A Discovery of Certain Errors in the
Much-commended Britannia." When we consider Brooke's
character, as headstrong with heraldry as Don Quixote's with
romances of chivalry, we need not attribute his motives (as
Camden himself, with the partial feelings of an author, does,
and subsequent writers echo) to his envy at Camden's pro-
motion to be Clarencieux King of Arms ; for it appears that
Brooke began his work before this promotion. The indecent
excesses of his pen, with the malicious charges of plagiarism
he brings against Camden for the use he made of Leland's
collections, only show the insensibility of the mere heraldist
to the nobler genius of the historian. Yet Brooke had no
ordinary talents : his work is still valuable for his own pecu-
liar researches ; but his naive shrewdness, his pointed preci-
sion, the bitter invective, and the caustic humour of his
cynical pen, give an air of originality, if not of genius, which
no one has dared to notice. Brooke's fil'st work against
Camden was violently disturbed in its progress, and hurried,
in a mutilated state, into the world, without licence or a
publisher's name. Thus impeded, and finally crushed, the
howl of persecution followed his name ; and subsequent
writers servilely traced his character from their partial pre-
decessors.
But Brooke, though denied the fair freedom of the press,
and a victim to the powerful connexions of Camden, calmly
pursued his silent labour with great magnanimity. He
wrote his "Second Discovery of Errors," an enlargement of
the first. This he carefully finished for the press, l3ut could
never get published. The secret history of the controversy
may be found there.*
* This work was not given to the public till 1724, a small quarto, with
a fine portrait of Brooke. More than a century had elapsed since its
forcible suppression. Anstis printed it from the fair MS. which Brooke
Camden and Brooke. 493
Brooke had been loudly accused of indulging a personal
rancour against Camden, and the motive of his work was
attributed to envy of his great reputation ; a charge con-
stantly repeated.
Yet this does not appear, for when Brooke first began his
" Discovery of Errors," he did not design its publication ; for
he liberally offered Camden his Observations and Collections.
They were fastidiouisly, perhaps haughtily, rejected ; on this
pernicious and false principle, that to correct his errors in
genealogy might discredit the whole work. On which absurdity
Brooke shrewdly remarks — "As if healing the sores would
have maimed the body." He speaks with more humility on
this occasion than an insulted, yet a skilful writer, was likely
to do, who had his labours considered, as he says, " worthy
neither of thanks nor acceptance."
" The rat is not so contemptible but he may help the lion,
at a pinch, out of those nets wherein his strength is ham-
pered ; and the words of an inferior may often carry matter
in them to admonish his superior of some important con-
sideration ; and surely, of what account soever I might have
seemed to this learned man, yet, in respect to my profession
and courteous ofter, (I being an officer-of-arms, and he then
but a schoolmaster), might well have vouchsafed the perusal
of my notes."
When he published, our herald stated the reasons of writing
against Camden with good-humour, and rallies him on his
" incongruity in his principles of heraldry — for which I
challenge him ! — for depriving some nobles of issue to succeed
them, who had issue, of whom are descended many worthy
famiHes : denying barons and earls that were, and making
barons and earls of others that were not ; mistaking the son
for the father, and the father for the son ; affirming legitimate
children to be illegitimate, and illegitimate to be legitimate ;
and framing incestuous and unnatural marriages, making the
father to marry the son's wife, and the son his own mother."
He treats Camden with the respect due to his genius,
while he judiciously distinguishes where the greatest ought to
know when to yield.
" The most abstruse arts I profess not, but yield the palm
and victory to mine adversary, that great learned Mr. Camden,
had left behind him. The author's paternal affection seemed fondly to
imagine its child might be worthy of posterity, though calumniated by its
contemporaries.
494 Quarrels of Authors.
with whom, yet, a long experimented navigator may contend
about his chart and compass, about havens, creeks, and
sounds ; so I, an ancient herald, a Httle dispute, without im-
putation of audacity, concerning the honour of arms, and the
truth of honourable descents."
Brooke had seen, as he observes, in four editions of the
" Britannia," a continued race of errors, in false descents, &c.,
and he continues, with a witty allusion : —
"Perceiving that even the brains of many learned men
beyond the seas had misconceived and miscarried in the
travail and birth of their relations, being gotten, as it were,
with child (as Diomedes's mares) b}'^ the blasts of his erro-
neous puffs ; I could not but a little question the original father
of their absurdities, being so far blown, with the trumpet of
his learning and fame, into foreign lands."
He proceeds with instances of several great authors on the
Continent havhig been misled by the statements of Camden.
Thus largely have I quoted from Brooke, to show, that at
first he never appears to have been influenced by the mean
envy, or the personal rancour, of which he is constantly
accused. As he proceeded in his work, which occupied him
several years, his reproaches are whetted with a keener edge,
and his accusations are less generous. But to what are we
to attribute this ? To the contempt and persecution Brooke
so long endured from Camden : these acted on his vexed and
degraded spirit, till it burst into the excesses of a man heated
with injured feelings.
When Camden took his station in the Herald's College
with Brooke, whose offers of his notes he had refused to
accept, they soon found what it was for two authors to live
under the same roof, who were impatient to write against
each other. The cynical York, at first, would twit the new
king-of-arms, perpetually affirming that " his predecessor was .
a more able herald than any who lived in this age :" a truth,
indeed, acknowledged by Dugdale. 0^ this occasion, once
the king-of-arms gave malicious York "the lie!" reminding
the crabbed herald of " his own learning ; who, as a scholar,
was famous through all the provinces of Christendom." " So
that (adds Brooke) now I learnt, that before him, when we
speak in commendation of any other, to say, I must always
except Plato." Camden would allow of no private communi-
cation between them ; and in Sermonihus Convivalibus, in his
table-talk, " the heat and height of his spirit " often scorched
Camden and Brooke. 495
the contemned Yorkist, whose rejected " Discovery of Errors"
had no doubt been too frequently enlarged, after such rough
convivialities. Brooke now resolved to print ; but, in printing
the work, the press was disturbed, and his house was entered
by " this learned man, his friends, and the stationers." The
latter were alarmed for the sale of the " Britannia," which
might have been injured by this rude attack. The work was
therefore printed in an unfinished state : part was intercepted;
and the author stopped, by authority, from proceeding any
further. Some imperfect copies got abroad.
The treatment the exasperated Brooke now incurred was
more provoking than Camden's refusal of his notes, and the
haughtiness of his " Sermonibus Convivalibus," The imper-
fect work was, however, laid before the public, so that Camden
could not refuse to notice its grievous charges. He composed
an angry reply in Latin, addressed ad Lectoreml and never
mentioning Brooke by name, contemptuously alludes to him
only by a Quidam and Iste (a certain person, and He !) — " He
considers me (cries the mortified Brooke, in his second sup-
pressed work) as an Individuum vagum, and makes me but a
Quidam in his pamphlet, standing before him as a school-boy,
while he whips me. Why does he reply in Latin to an
English accusation ? He would disguise himself in his school-
rhetoric; wherein, like the cuttle-fish, being stricken, he thinks
to hide and shift himself away in the ink of his rhetoric. I
will clear the waters again."
He fastens on Camden's former occupation, virulently
accusing him of the manners of a pedagogue : — " A man may
perceive an immoderate and eager desire of vainglory grow-
ing in hand, ever since he used to teach and correct children
for these things, according to the opinion of some, in mores
et naturam abeuntr He complains of "the school-hyper-
boles" which Camden exhausts on him, among which Brooke
is compared to " the strumpet Leontion," who wrote against
"the divine Theophrastus." To this Brooke keenly replies :
" Surely, had Theophrastus dealt with women's matters, a
woman, though mean, might in reason have contended with
him. A king must be content to be laughed at if he come
into Apelles's shop, and dispute about colours and portraiture.
I am not ambitious nor envious to carp at matters of higher
learning than matters of heraldry, which I profess : that is
the slipper, wherein I know a slip when I find it. But see
your cunning ; you can, with the blur of your pen, dipped in
496 Quarrels of Authors,
copperas and gall, make me learned and unlearned ; nay, you
can almost change my sex, and make me a whore, like
Leontion ; and, taking your silver pen again, make yourself
the divine Theophrastus."
At the close of Camden's answer, he introduced the alle-
gorical picture of Calumny, that elegant invention of the
Grecian fancy of Apelles, painted by him when suffering
under the false accusations of a rival. The picture is de-
scribed by Lucian ; but it has received many happy touches
from the classical hand of the master of Westminster School.
As a literary satire, he applies it with great dignity. I give
here a translation, but I preserve the original Latin in the note
as Camden's reply to Brooke is not easily to be procured.
" But though I am not disposed to waste more words on
these, and this sort of men, yet I cannot resist the tempta-
tion of adding a slight sketch, for I cannot give that vivacity
of colouring of the picture of the great artist Apelles that our
Antiphilus and the like, whose ears are ever open to calumny,
may, in contemplating it, find a reflection of themselves.
" On the right hand sits a man, who, to show his credu-
lity, is remarkable for his prodigious ears, similar to those of
Midas. He extends his hand to greet Calumny, who is ap-
proaching him. The two diminutive females around him are
Ignorance and Suspicion. Opposite to them. Calumny advances,
betraying in her countenance and gesture the savage rage and
anger working in her tempestuous breast : her left hand holds
a flaming torch ; while with her right she drags by the hair
a youth, who, stretching his uplifted hands to Heaven, is call-
ing on the immortal powers to bear testimony to his inno-
cence. She is preceded by a man of a pallid and impure
appearance, seemingly wasting away under some severe disease,
except that his eye sparkles, and has not the dulness usual to
such. That Envy is here meant, you readily conjecture. Some
diminutive females, frauds and deceits, attend her as com-
panions, whose office is to encourage and instruct, and stu-
diously to adorn their mistress. In the background. Repent-
ance, sadly arrayed in a mournful, worn-out, and ragged gar-
ment, who, with averted head, with tears and shame, acknow-
ledges and prepares to receive Truth, approaching from a dis-
tance."*
* ** Verum enimvero de his et hoc genere horainum ne verbum ampliua
addarn, tabellam tamen summi illius artificis Apellis, cum colorutn vivaci-
tate depingere non possim, verbis leviter adumbrabo et proponam, ut Aati*
Camden and Brooke. 497
This elegant picture, so happily introduced into a piece of
literary controversy, appears to have only slightly affected
the mind of Brooke, which was probably of too stout a grain
to take the folds of Grecian drapery. Instead of sympathis-
ing with its elegance, he breaks out into a horse-laugh ; and,
what is quite unexpected among such grave inquiries into a
ludicrous tale in verse, which, though it has not Grecian
fancy, has broad English humour, where he maliciously in-
sinuates that Camden had appropriated to his own use, or
"new-coated his 'Britannia'" with Leland's MSS., and dis-
guised what he had stolen.
" Now, to show himself as good a painter as he is a herald,
he propounded, at the end of his book, a table (^. e. a picture)
of his own invention, being nothing comparable to " Apelles,'*
as he himself confesseth, and we believe him ; for, like the
rude painter that was fain to write, ' This is a Horse,' upon
his painted horse, he writes upon his picture the names of all
that furious rabble therein expressed — which, for to requite
him, I will return a tale of John Fletcher (some time of
Oxford) and his horse. Neither can this fable be any dis-
paragement to his table, being more ancient and authenticall,
and far more conceipted than his envious picture. And thus
it was : —
A TALE (not op A ROASTBD) BUT OF A PAINTED HORSE.
John Fletcher, famous, and a man well known,
But using not his sirname's trade alone,*
Did hackney out poor jades for common hire,
Not fit for any pastime but to tire.
philus noster, suique similes, et qui calumnlis credunt, hanc, et in hac
seipsos semel simulque intueantur.
"Ad dextram sedet quidam, quia credulus, auribus praelongis insignia,
quales fere illae Midse feruntur. Manum porrigit procul accedenti Calum-
nise. Circumstant eum mulierculae duae, Ignorautia ac Suspicio. Adit
aliunde pro plus Calumnia eximie compta, vultu ipso et gestu corporis effe-
rens rabiem, et iram sestuanti conceptam pectore prse se ferens : sinistra
facem tenens flammantem, dextra secum adolescentem capillis arreptum,
manus ad superos tendentem, obtestantemque immortalium deorum fidem,
trahit. Anteit vir pallidus, in specium impurus, acie oculorum minime
hebeti, caeterum plane iis siinilis, qui gravi aliquo morbo contabuerunt.
Hie livor est, ut facile conjicias. Quin, et mulierculae aliquot Insidiae et
Fallaciae ut comites Calumniam comitantur. Harum est munus, dominam
hortari, instruere, comere, et subornare. A tergo, habitu lugubri, pullato,
laeeroque Poenitentia subsequitur, quae capite in tergum deflexo, cum
lachrymis, ac pudore procul venientem Veritatem agnoscit, et excipit."
* A Fletcher is a maker of bows and arrows. — Ash.
e:e:
498 Quarrels of Authors.
His conscience, once, surveying his jade's stable,
Prick'd him, for keeping horses so unable.
** Oh why should I," saith John, ** by scholars thrive.
For jades that will not carry, lead, nor drive ?"
To mend the matter, out he starts, one nigbt,
And having spied a palfrey somewhat white,
He takes him up, and up he mounts his back.
Rides to his house, and there he turns him black ;
Marks him in forehead, feet, in rump, and crest,
As coursers mark those horses which are best.
So neatly John had coloured every spot,
That the right owner sees him, knows him not.
Had he but feather' d his new-painted breast,
He would have seemed Pegasus at least.
"Who but John Fletcher's horse, in all the town.
Amongst all hackneys, purchased this renown?
But see the luck ; John Fletcher's horse, one night,
By rain was wash'd again almost to white.
His first right owner, seeing such a change.
Thought he should know him, but his hue was strange !
But eyeing him, and spying out his steed.
By flea-bit spots of his now washed weed,
Seizes the horse ; so Fletcher was attainted.
And did confess the horse — he stole and painted.
To close wifch honour to Brooke ; in his graver moments he
warmly repels the accusation Camden raised against him, as
an enemy to learning, and appeals to many learned scholars,
who had tasted of his liberality at the Universities, towards
their maintenance ; but, in an elevated tone, he asserts his
right to deliver his animadversions as York Herald.
" I know (says Brooke) the great advantage my adversary
has over me, in the received opinion of the world. If some
will blame me for that my writings carry some characters of
spleen against him, men of pure affections, and not partial,
will think reason that he should, by ill hearing, lose the plea-
sure he conceived by ill speaking. But since I presume not
to understand above that which is meet for me to know, I
must not be discouraged, nor fret myself, because of the
malicious ; for I find myself seated upon a rock, that is sure
from tempest and waves, from whence I have a prospect into
his errors and waverings. I do confess his great worth and
merit, and that we Britons are in some sort beholding to
him ; and might have been much more, if God had lent him
Camden and Brooke. 499
the grace to have played the faithful steward, in the talent
committed to his trust and charge."
Such was the dignified and the intrepid reply of Ralph
Brooke, a man whose name is never mentioned without an
epithet of reproach ; and who, in his own day, was hunted
down, and not suffered, vindictive as he was no doubt, to
relieve his bitter and angry spirit, by pouring it forth to the
public eye.*
But the story is not yet closed. Camden, who wanted the
magnanimity to endure with patient dignity the corrections
of an inferior genius, had the wisdom, with the meanness,
silently to adopt his useful corrections, but would never con-
fess the hand which had brought them.f
Thus hath Ealph Brooke told his own tale undisturbed,
and, after the lapse of more than a century, the press has been
opened to him. Whenever a great author is suffered to gag
the mouth of his adversary, Truth receives the insult. But
there is another point more essential to inculcate in literary
controversy. Ought we to look too scrupulously into the
motives which may induce an inferior author to detect the
errors of a greater ? A man from no amiable motive may per-
form a proper action : Ritson was useful after Warton ; nor
have we a right to ascribe it to any concealed motives, which,
after all, may be doubtful. In the present instance, our much-
abused Ralph Brooke first appears to have composed his ela-
* Brooke died at the old mansion opposite the Roman town of Eeculver
in Kent. The house is still known as Brooke-farm ; and the original
gateway of decorative brickwork still exists. He was buried in Reculver
Church, now destroyed, where a mural monument was erected to his me-
mory, having a rhyming inscription, which told the reader : —
" Fifteenth October he was last alive,
One thousand six hundred and twenty-five,
Seaventy-three years bore he fortune's harms,
And forty-five an officer of armes."
Brooke was originally a painter-stainer. His enmity to Camden appears
to have originated in the appointment of the latter to the office of Claren-
cieux on the death of Richard Lee ; he believing himself to be qualified for
the place by greater knowledge, and by his long connexion with the College
of Arms. His mode of righting himself lacked judgment, and he was
twice suspended from his office, and was even attempted to be expelled
therefrom. — Ed.
+ In Anstis's edition of ** A Second Discoverie of Errors in the Much-
commended * Britannia,' &c.," 1724, the reader will find all the pas-
sages in the "Britannia" of the edition of 1594 to which Brooke made
exceptions, placed column-wise with the following edition of it in 1600.
It is, as Anstis observes, a debt to truth, without makin» any reflections.
kk2
500 Quarrels of Authors,
borate work from the most honourable motives : the offer he
made of his Notes to Camden seems a sufficient evidence.
The pride of a great man first led Camden into an error, and
that error plunged him into all the barbarity of persecution ;
thus, by force, covering his folly. Brooke over-valued his
studies : it is the nature of those peculiar minds adapted to
excel in such contracted pursuits. He undertook an ungracious
office, and he has suffered by being placed by the side of the
illustrious genius with whom he has so skilfully combated in
his own province ; and thus he has endured contempt, without
being contemptible. The public are not less the debtors to
such unfortunate, yet intrepid authors.*
* There is a sensible observation in the old " Biographia Britannica" on
Brooke. '* From the splenetic attack originally made by Rafe Brooke upon
the " Britannia" arose very great advantages to the public, by the shift-
ing and bringing to light as good, perhaps a better and more authentic ac-
count of our nobility, than had been given at that time of those in any
other country of Europe." — ^p. 1135.
MARTIN MAR-PRELATE.
Op the two prevalent factions in the reign of Elizabeth, the Catholics and
the Puritans — Elizabeth's philosophical indifference offends both — Maun-
sell's Catalogue omits the books of both parties — of the Puritans, "the
mild and moderate, with the fierce and fiery," a great religious body
covering a political one — Thomas Cartwright, the chief of the Puritans,
and his rival Whitgiffc — attempts to make the Ecclesiastical paramount
to the Civil Power — his plan in dividing the country into comitial, pro-
vincial, and national assemblies, to be concentrated under the secret head
at Warwick, where Cartwright was elected " perpetual Moderator !" —
after the most bitter controversies, Cartwright became very compliant to
his old rival Whitgift, when Archbishop of Canterbury — of Martin
Mar-Prelate — his sons — specimens of their popular ridicule and invec-
tive — Cartwright approves of this mode of controversy — better counter-
acted by the wits than by the grave admonishers — specimens of the
Anti-Martin Mar-Prelates — of the authors of these surreptitious
publications.
The Reformation, or the new Religion, as it was then called,
under Elizabeth, was the most philosophical she could form,
and therefore the most hateful to the zealots of all parties.
It was worthy of her genius, and of a better age ! Her sole
object was, a deliverance from the Papal usurpation. Her
own supremacy maintained, she designed to be the great sove-
reign of a great people ; and the Catholic, for some time, was
called to her council-board, and entered with the Reformer
into the same church. But wisdom itself is too weak to re-
gulate human affairs, when the passions of men rise up in
obstinate insurrection. Elizabeth neither won over the Re-
formers nor the Catholics. An excommunicating bull, preci-
pitated by Papal Machiavelism, driving on the brutalised obe-
dience of its slaves, separated the friends. This was apolitical
error arising from a misconception of the weakness of our
government ; and when discovered as such, a tolerating dis-
pensation was granted " till better times ;" an unhealing ex-
pedient, to join again a dismembered nation ! It would sur-
prise many, were they aware how numerous were our ancient
families and our eminent characters who still remained
502 Quarrels of Authors.
Catholics.* The country was then divided, and Englishmen
who were heroic Romanists fell the terrible victims.
On the other side, the national evil took a new form. It
is probable that the Queen, regarding the mere ceremonies of
rehgion, now venerable with age, as matters of indifference,
and her fine taste perhaps still lingering amid the solemn
gorgeousness of the Roman service, and her senses and her
emotions excited by the religious scenery, did not share in
that abhorrence of the paintings and the images, the chant
and the music, the censer and the altar, and the pomp of the
prelatical habits, which was prompting many well-intentioned
Reformers to reduce the ecclesiastical state into apostolical
nakedness and primitive rudeness. She was slow to meet
this austerity of feeling, which in this country at length
extirpated those arts which exalt our nature, and for this
these pious Vandals nicknamed the Queen " the untamed
heifer ;" and the fierce Knox expressly wrote his " First Blast
Against the Monstrous Government of Women." Of these
Reformers, many had imbibed the republican notions of
Calvin. In their hatred of Popery, they imagined that they
had not gone far enough in their wild notions of reform, for
they viewed it, still shadowed out in the new hierarchy of the
bishops. The fierce Calvin, in his little church at Geneva,
presumed to rule a great nation on the scale of a parish insti-
tution ; copying the apostolical equality at a time when the
Church (say the Episcopalians) had all the weakness of in-
fancy, and could live together in a community of all things,
from a sense of their common poverty. Be this as it may,
the dignified ecclesiastical order was a vulnerable institution,
which could do no greater injury, and might effect as much
public good as any other order in the state.f My business
* The Church History by Dodd, a Catholic, fills three vols, folio : it is
very rare and curious. Much of our own domestic history is interwoven
in that of the fugitive papists, and the materials of this work are fre-
quently drawn from their own archives, preserved in their seminaries at
l)ouay, Valladolid, &c., which have not been accessible to Protestant
writers. Here I discovered a copious nomenclature of eminent persons,
and many literary men, with many unknown facts, both of a private and
public nature. It is useful, at times, to know whether an English author
was a Catholic.
t I refer the reader to Selden's "Table Talk" for many admirable ideas
on *' Bishops." That enlightened genius, who was no friend to the eccle-
siastical temporal power, acknowledges the absolute necessity of this order
in a great government. The preservers of our literature and our morals
they ought to be, and many have been. When the political reformers
Martin Mar-Prelate. 503
is not with this discussion. I mean to show how the repub-
lican system of these Reformers ended in a political struggle
which, crushed in the reign of Elizabeth, and beaten down in
that of James, so furiously triumphed under Charles. Their
history exhibits the curious spectacle of a great religious body-
covering a political one — such as was discovered among the
Jesuits, and such as may again distract the empire, in some
new and unexpected shape.
Elizabeth was harassed by the two factions of the in-
triguing Catholic and the disguised Repubhcan. The age
abounded with libels.* Many a Benedicite was handed to
ejected the bishops out of the house, what did they gain ? a more vulga*
prating race, but even more lordly! Selden says— "The bishops being
put out of the house, whom will they lay the fault upon now ? When the
dog is beat out of the room, where will they lay the stink ?"
* The freedom of the press hardly subsisted in Elizabeth's reign ; and
yet libels abounded ! A clear demonstration that nothing is really gained
by those violent suppressions and expurgatory indexes which power in its
usurpation may enforce. At a time when they did not dare even to publish
the titles of such libels, yet were they spread about, and even hoarded.
The most ancient catalogue of our vernacular literature is that by Andrew
Maunsell, published in 1595. It consists of Divinity, Mathematics, Medi-
cine, &c. ; but the third part which he promised, and which to us would
have been the most interesting, of " Rhetoric, History, Poetry, and Policy,"
never appeared. In the Preface, such was the temper of the times, and of
Elizabeth, we discover that he has deprived us of a catalogue of the works
alluded to in our text, for he thus distinctly points at them : — *' The books
written by the fugitive papistes, as also those that are written against the
present government (meaning those of the Puritans), I doe not think
meete for me to meddle witball." In one part of his catalogue, however,
he contrived to insert the following passage ; the burden of the song seems
to have been chorused by the ear of our cautious Maunsell. Ho is noticing
a Pierce Plowman in prose. ** I did not see the beginning of this booke,
but it ended thus : —
** God save the king, and speed the plough
And send the prclats care inough,
Inough, inough, inough." — p. 80.
Few of our native productions are so rare as the Martin Mar- Prelate
publications. I have not found them in the public repositories of our
national literature. There they have been probably rejected with indig-
nity, though their answerers have been preserved ; yet even these are
almost of equal rarity and price. They were rejected in times less en-
lightened than the present. In a national library every book deserves
preservation. By the rejection of these satires, however absurd or infa-
mous, we have lost a link in the great chain of our National Literature
and History. [Since the above was written, many have been added to our
library ; and the Rev. "William Maskell, M. A., has published his " Histoi7
of the Martin Mar-Prelate Controversy." It is a most careful summary o^
504 Quarrels of Authors,
her from the Catholics ; hut a portentous personage, masked,
stepped forth from a ckib of Pukitans, and terrified the
nation by continued visitations, yet was never visible till the
instant of his adieus — " starting like a guilty thing upon a
fearful summons ! "
Men echo the tone of their age, yet still the same unvary-
ing human nature is at work ; and the Puritans,* who in the
the writings and proceedings of all connected with this important event,
and is worthy the attentive perusal of such as desire accurate information
in this chapter of our Church history.]
* We know thera by the name of Puritans, a nickname obtained by their
affecting superior sanctity ; but I 6nd them often distinguished by the more
humble kppellative of Precisians. As men do not leap up, but climb on
rocks, it is probable they were only precise before they were pure. A
satirist of their day, in " Rythmes against Martin Marre- Prelate," melts
their attributes into one verse : —
" The sacred sect, and perfect pure precise.''^
A more laughing satirist, ** Pasquill of England to Martin Junior," per-
sists in calling them Puritans, a pruritu I for their perpetual itching, dr a
desire to do something. Elizabeth herself only considered them as "a
troublesome sort of people :" even that great politician could not detect
the political monster in a mere chrysalis of reform. I find, however, in a
poet of the Elizabethan age, an evident change in the public feeling respect-
ing the Puritans, who being always most active when the government was
most in trouble, their political views were discovei-ed. Warner, in his
" Albion's England," describes them : —
** If ever England will in aught prevent her own mishap.
Against these Skommes (no terme too gross) let England shut the gap ;
With giddie heads —
Their countrie's foes they helpt, and most their country harm'd.
If Hypocrites why Puritaines we term, be asked, in breefe,
'Tis but an ironised terme: good-fellow so spells theefe !"
The gentle-humoured Fuller, in his "Church History," felt a tender-
ness for the name of Puritan, which, after the mad follies they had played
during the Commonwealth, was then held in abhorrence. He could not
venture to laud the good men of that party, without employing a new term
to conceal the odium. In noticing, under the date of 1563, that the bishops
urged the clergy of their dioceses to press uniformity, &c., he adds — *' Such
as refused were branded with the name of Puritans — a name which in this
nation began in this year, subject to several senses, and various in the
acceptions. Puritan was taken for the opposers of hierarchy and church
service, as resenting of superstition. But the nickname was quickly im-
proved by profane mouths to abuse pious persons. We will decline the
word to prevent exceptions, which, if casually slipping from our pen, the
reader knoweth that only nonconformists are intended," lib. ix. p. 76.
Fuller, however, divided them into classes — *'the mild and moderate, and
the fierce and fiery." Hetlin, in his "History of the Presbyterians,'*
blackens them as so many political devils ; and Neale, in his " History of
the Puritans," blanches them into a sweet and almond whiteness.
Let us be thankful to these Puritans for a political lesson. They began
Martin Mar-Prelate, 505
reign of Elizabeth imagined it was impossible to go too far
in the business of reform, were the spirits called Round-
heads under Charles, and who have got another nickname in
our da^^s. These wanted a Reformation of a Eeformation —
they aimed at reform, but they designed Eevolution ; and
they would not accept of toleration, because they had deter-
mined on predominance.*
Of this faction, the chief was Thomas Caetweight, a
person of great learning, and doubtless of great ambition.
their quarrels on the most indifferent matters. They raised disturbances
about the "Romish Rags," by which they described the decent surplice as
well as the splendid scarlet chimere^ thrown over the white linen rochet,
with the square cap worn by the bishops. The scarlet robe, to please their
sullen fancy, was changed into black satin ; but these men soon resolved
to deprive the bishops of more than a scarlet robe. The affected niceties
of these Precisians, dismembering our images, and scratching at our paint-
ings, disturbed the uniformity of the religious service. A clergyman in a
surplice was turned out of the church. Some wore square caps, some
round, some abhorred all caps. The communion-table placed in the East
was considered as an idolatrous altar, and was now dragged into the middle
of the church, where, to show their contempt, it was always made the
filthiest seat in the church. They used to kneel at the sacrament ; now
they would sit, because that was a proper attitude for a supper ; then they
would not sit, but stand : at length they tossed the elements about, because
the bread was wafers, and not from a loaf. Among their preciseness was a
qualm at baptism. : the water was to be taken from a basin, and not from
a fount ; then they would not name their children, or if they did, they
would neither have Grecian, nor Roman, nor Saxon names, but Hebrew
ones, which they ludicrously translated into English, and which, as Heylin
observes, "many of them when they came of age were ashamed to own"
— such as "Accepted, Ashes, Fight-the-good-Fight-of- Faith, Joy-again,
Kill-sin, &c."
Who could have foreseen that some pious men quarrelling about the square
caps and the rochets of bishops should at length attack bishops them-
selves ; and, by an easy transition, passing from bishops to kings, finally
close in levellers !
* The origin of the controversy may be fixed about 1588. " A far less
easy task," says the Rev. Mr. Maskell, "is it to guess at the authors.
The tracts on the Mar-Prelate side have been usually attributed to Penry,
Throgmorton, Udal, and Fenner. Very considerable information may be
obtained about these writers in Wood's ' Athense, ' art. Penry ; in Collier,
Strype, and Herbert's edition of ' Ames,' to whom I would refer. After
a careful examination of these and other authorities on the subject, the
question remains, in my judgment, as obscure as before ; and I think that
it is very far from clear that either one of the three last-named was actually
concerned in the authorship of any of the pamphlets." — Ed.
1 So Heylin writes the word ; but in the " Rythmes against Martin," a
contemporary production, the term is Chiver. It is not in Cotgrave.
506 Quarrels of Authors.
Early in life a disappointed man, the progress was easy to a
disaffected subject. At a Philosophy Act, in the University
of Cambridge, in the royal presence, the queen preferred and
rewarded his opponent for the slighter and more attractive
elegances in which the learned Cartwright was deficient. He
felt the wound rankle in his ambitious spirit. He began, as
Sir George Paul, in his " Life of Archbishop Whitgift," ex-
presses it, " to kick against her Ecclesiastical Government."
He expatriated himself several years, and returned fierce with
the republican spirit he had caught among the Calvinists at
Geneva, which aimed at the extirpation of the bishops. It
was once more his fate to be poised against another rival,
Whitgift, the Queen's Professor of Divinity. Cartwright, in
some lectures, advanced his new doctrines ; and these innova-
tions soon raised a formidable party, " buzzing their conceits
into the green heads of the University."* Whitgift regularly
preached at Cartwright, but to little purpose ; for when
Cartwright preached at St. Mary's they were forced to take
down the windows. Once our sly polemic, taking advantage
of the absence of Whitgift, so powerfully operated, in three
sermons on one Sunday, that in the evening his victory de-
clared itself, by the students of Trinity College rejecting
their surplices, as Papistical badges. Cartwright was now
to be confuted by other means. The University'- refused him
his degree of D.D. ; condemned the lecturer to silence ; and
at length performed that last feeble act of power, expulsion.
In a heart already alienated from the established authorities,
this could only envenom a bitter spirit. Already he had felt
a personal dislike to ro3^alty, and now he had received an in-
sult from the University : these were motives which, though
concealed, could not fail to work in a courageous mind, whose
new forms of religion accorded with his political feelings.
The "Degrees" of the University, which he now declared to
be " unlawful," were to be considered " as limbs of Anti-
christ." The whole hierarchy was to be exterminated for a
republic of Presbyters ; till, through the church, the repub-
* In the "Just Censure and Reproof of Martin Junior" (circse 1589), we
are told : " There is Cartwright, too, at Warwick ; he hath got him such a
corapany of disciples, both of the worshipfull and other of the poorer sort,
as wee have no cause to thank him. Never tell me that he is too grave to
trouble himself with Martin's conceits. Cartwright seeks the peace of the
Church no otherwise than his platform may stand," He was accused be-
fore the commissioners in 1590 of knowing who wrote and printed thes«
squibs, which he did not deny. — Ed.
Martin Mar-Prelate, 507
lican, as we shall see, discovered a secret passage to the
Cabinet of his Sovereign, where he had many protectors.
Such is my conception of the character of Cartwright.
The reader is enabled to judge for himself by the note.*
* I give a remarkable extract from the writings of Cartwright. It will
prove two points. First, that the religion of those men became a cover
for a political design ; which was to raise the ecclesiastical above the civil
power. Just the reverse of Hobbes's after scheme ; but while theorists
thus differ and seem to refute one another, they in reality work for an iden-
tical purpose. Secondly, it will show the not uncommon absurdity of man ;
while these nor conformists were affecting to annihilate the hierarchy of
England as a remains of the Romish supremacy, they themselves were de-
signing one according to their own fresher scheme. It was to be a state or re-
public of Presbyters, in which all Sovereigns were to hold themselves, to use
their style, as " Nourisses, or servants under the Church ; the Sovereigns
were to be as subjects ; they were to vail their sceptres and to offer their
crowns as the prophet speaketh, to lich the dust of the feet of the Church^
These are Cartwright's words, in his "Defence of the Admonition." But he
is still bolder, in a joint production with Travers. He insists that "the
Monarchs of the World should give up their sceptres and crowns unto him
(J esMB Christ) who is represented by the Officers of the Church." See "A
Full and Plain Declaration of Ecclesiastical Discipline," p. 185. One would
imagine he was a disguised Jesuit, and an advocate for the Pope's supre-
macy. But observe how these saintly Republicans would govern the State.
Cartwright is explicit, and very ingenious. " The world is now deceived that
thinketh that the Church must be framed according to the Commonwealth,
and the Church Government according to the Civil Government, which is as
much as to say, as if a man should fashion his house according to his hang-
ings ; whereas, indeed, it is clean contrary. That as the hangings are made fit
for the house, so the Commonwealth must be made to agree with the Church,
and the government thereof with her government ; for, as the house is be-
fore the hangings, therefore the hangings, which come after, must be framed
to the house, which was before ; so the Church being before there was a
commonwealth, and the commonwealth coming after, must be fashioned
and made suitable to the Church ; otherwise, Grod is made to give place to
men, heaven to earth." — Cartwright's Defence of the Admonition, p. 181.
Warburton's "Alliance between Church and State," which was in his
time considered as a hardy paradox, is mawkish in its pretensions, com-
pared with this sacerdotal republic. It is not wonderful that the wisest of
our Sovereigns, that great politician Elizabeth, should have punished with
death these democrats : but it is wonderful to discover that these inveterate
enemies to the Church of Rome were only trying to transfer its absolute
power into their own hands ! They wanted to turn the Church into a de-
mocracy. They fascinated the people by telling them that there would be
no beggars were there no bishops ; that every man would be a governor by
setting up a Presbytery. From the Church, I repeat, it is scarcely a single
step to the Cabinet. Yet the early Puritans come down to us as persecuted
saints. Doubtless, there were a few honest saints among them ; but they
were as mad politicians as their race afterwards proved to be, to whom they
left so many fatal legacies. Cartwright uses the very language a certain
cast of political reformers have recently done. He declares " An estab-
508 Quarrels of Authors.
But Cartwright, chilled by an imprisonment, and witness-
ing some of his party condemned, and some executed, after
having long sustained the most elevated and rigid tone, sud-
denly let his alp of ice dissolve away in the gentlest thaw
that ever occurred in political life. Ambitious he was, but
not of martyrdom ! His party appeared once formidable,*
and his protection at Court sure. 1 have read several letters
of the Earl of Leicester, in MS., that show he always
shielded Cartwright, whenever in danger. Many of the mi-
nisters of Elizabeth were Puritans ; but doubtless this was
before their state policy had detected the politicians in mask.
When some of his followers had dared to do what he had
only thought, he appears to have forsaken them. They re-
proached him for this left-handed policy, some of the boldest
of them declaring that they had neither acted nor written
anything but what was warranted by his principles. I do
lishmeut may be made "without the magistrate ;" and told the people that
"if every hair of their head was a life, it ought to be offered for such a
cause." Another of this faction is for ' ' registering the names of the fittest
and hottest brethren without lingering for Parliament ;" and another
exults that "there are a hundred thousand hands ready." Another, that
"we may overthrow the bishops and all the government in one day."
Such was the style, and such the confidence in the plans which the lowest
orders of revolutionists promulgated during their transient exhibition in this
country. More in this strain may be found in "Maddox's Viudication Against
Neale,"' the advocate for the Puritans, p 255 ; and in an admirable letter of
that great politician, Sir Francis Walsingham, who, with many others of
the ministers of Elizabeth, was a favourer of the Puritans, till he detected
their secret object to subvert the government. This letter is preserved in
"Collier's Eccl. Hist." vol. ii. 607. They had begun to divide the whole
country into classes, provincial synods, &c. They kept registers, which re-
corded all the heads of their debates, to be finally transmitted to the secret
head of the GLassis of Warwick, where Cartwright governed as the perpetual
moderator I HeylirHs Hist, of Preshyt. p. 277. These violent advocates
for the freedom of the press had, however, an evident intention to mono-
polise it ; for they decreed that "no book should be put in print but by
consent of the Classes." — Sir Gr. Paul's Life of Whitgift, p. 65. The
very Star-Chamber they justly protested against, they were for raising
among themselves !
* Under the denomination of Barrowists and Brownists. I find Sir
Walter Raleigh declaring, in the House of Commons, on a moticm for re-
ducing disloyal subjects, that " they are worthy to be rorted out of a Com-
monwealth." H^is alarmed at the danger, "for it is to be feared that
men not guilty will be included in the law about to be passed. I am sorry
for it. I am afraid there is near twenty thousand of them in England ;
and when they be gone (that is, expelled) who shall maintain their wives
and children ?" — Sia Simonds D'Ewes' Journal, p. 617.
Martin Mar-Prelate, 509
not know many political ejaculations more affecting than that
of Henry Barrow, said to have been a dissipated youth, when
Cartwright refused, before Barrow's execution, to allow of a
conference. The deluded man, after a deep sigh, said : " Shall
I be thus forsaken by him ? Was it not he that brought me
first into these briars ? and will he now leave me in the same ?
Was it not from him alone that I took my grounds ? Or did
I not, out of such premises as he pleased to give me, infer
those propositions, and deduce those conclusions, for which I
am now kept in these bonds ?" He was soon after executed,
with others.
Then occurred one of those political spectacles at which
the simple-minded stare, and the politic smile ; when, after
the most cruel civil war of words,* Cartwright wrote very
compliant letters to his old rival, Whitgift, now Archbishop
of Canterbury ; while the Archbishop was pleading with the
Queen in favour of the inveterate Republican, declaring that
had Cartwright not so far engaged himself in the beginning,
he thought he would have been, latterly, drawn into con-
formity. To clear up this mysterious conduct, we must ob-
serve that Cartwright seems to have graduated his political
ambition to the degree the government touched of weakness
or of strength ; and besides, he was now growing prudent as
he was growing rich. For it seems that he who was for
scrambling for the Church revenues, while telling the people
of the Apostles, silver and gold they had none, was himself
" feeding too fair and fat " for the meagre groaning state of a
pretended reformation. He had early in life studied that part
of the law by which he had learned the marketable price of
* The controversies of Whitgift and Cartwright were of a nature which
could never close, for toleration was a notion which never occurred to either.
These rivals from early days wrote with such bitterness against each other,
that at length it produced mutual reproaches. Whitgift complains to Cart-
wright : "If you were writing against the veriest Papist, or the ignorantest
dolt, you could not be more spiteful and malicious." And Cartwright re-
plies : "If peace had been so precious unto you as you pretend, you would
not have brought so many hard words and bitter reproaches, as it wei'e
sticks and coals, to double and treble the heat of contention."
After this it is curious, even to those accustomed to such speculations,
to observe some men changing with the times, and furious rivals converted
into brothers. Whitgift, whom Elizabeth, as a mark of her favour, called
"her black husband," soliciting Cai-twright's pardon from the Qneen ; and
the proud Presbyter Cartwright styling Whitgift his Lord the Archbishop's
Grace of Canterbury, and visiting him !
510 Quarrels of Authors,
landed property ; and as the cask still retains its old flavour,
this despiser of bishops was still making the best interest for
his money by land-jobbing.*
One of the memorable effects of this attempted innovation
was that continued stream of libels which ran throughout
the nation,under the portentous name of Martin Mar- Prelate. f
This extraordinary personage, in his collective form, for he is
to be splitted into more than one, long terrified Church and
State. He walked about the kingdom invisibly, dropping here
a libel, and there a proclamation for sedition ; but wherever
Martinis7n was found, Martin was not. He prided himself
in what he calls "Pistling the Bishops." Sometimes he hints
to his pursuers how they may catch him, for he prints,
" within two furlongs of a bouncing priest," or " in Europe ;"
while he acquaints his friends, who were so often uneasy for
his safety, that "he has neither wife nor child," and prays
" they may not be anxious for him, for he wishes that his head
might not go to the grave in peace." — " I come, with the rope
about my neck, to save you, howsoever it goeth with me."
His press is interrupted, he is silent, and Lambeth seems to
breathe in peace. But he has " a son ; nay, five hundred
sons !" and Martin Junior starts up ! He inquires
* Sir George Paul, a contemporary, attributes his wealth "to the benevo-
lence and bounty of his followers." Dr. Sutcliffe, one of his adversaries,
sharply upbraids him, that "in the persecution he perpetually complained
of, he was grown rich." A Puritan advocate reproves Dr. Sutcliffe for
always carping at Cartwright's purchases : — "Why may not Cartwright
sell the lands he had from his father, and buy others with the money, as
well as some of the bishops, who by bribery, simony, extortion, racking of
rents, wasting of woods, and such like stratagems, wax rich, and purchase
great lordships for their posterity ?"
To this Sutcliffe replied :
" I do not carpe alway, no, nor once, at Master Cartwright's purchase. I
hinder hira not ; I envy him not. Only thus much I must tell him, that
Thomas Cartwright, a man that hath more landes of his own in possession
than any bishop that I know, and that fareth daintily every day, and feedeth
fayre and fatte, and lyeth as soft as any tenderling of that brood, and hath
wonnemuch wealth in short time, and will leave more to his posterity than
any bishop, should not cry out either of persecution or of excess of bishop's
livinges." — Sutcliffe' s Answer to Certain Calumnious Petitions.
+ " The author of these libels," says Bishop Cooper, in his "Admoni-
tion to the People of England," 1589, " calleth himself by a feigned name,
Martin Mar-Prelate^ a very fit name undoubtedly. But if this outrage-
ous spirit of boldness be not stopped speedily, I fear he will prove him-
self to be, not only Mar-Prelate, but Mar-Prince, Mar-State, Mar-Law,
Mar-Magistrate, and altogether, until he bring it to an Anabaptistical
equality and community." — Ed.
Martin Mar-Prelate, £11
" Where his father is ; he who had studied the art of pistle-
making ? Why has he been tongue-tied these four or five
months? Good Nuncles (the bishops), have you closely
nmrthered the gentleman in some of your prisons ? Have
you choaked him with a fat prebend or two ? I trow my
father will swallow down no such pills, for he would thus soon
purge away all the conscience he hath. Do you mean to have
the keeping of him ? What need that ? he hath five hundred
sons in the land. My father would be sorry to put you to any
such cost as you intend to be at with him. A meaner house,
and less strength than the Tower, the Fleet, or Newgate,
would serve him well enough. He is not of that ambitious
vein that many of his brethren the bishops are, in seeking for
more costly houses than even his father built for him."
This same " Martin Junior," who, though he is but young,
as he says, " has a pretty smattering gift in this pistle-
making ; and I fear, in a while, I shall take a pride hi it." He
had picked up beside a bush, where it had dropped from some-
body, an imperfect paper of his father's : —
" Theses Martinianse — set forth as an after-birth of the noble
gentleman himselfe, by a pretty stripling of his, Martin
Junior, and dedicated by him to his good nuncka, Maister
John Cankerbury (i.e. Canterbury). Printed without a sly
privilege of the Cater Caps" — (i.e. the square caps the
bishops wore).
But another of these five hundred sons, who declares him-
self to be his "reverend and elder brother, heir to the
renowned Martin 3£ar-Prelate the Great," publishes
" The just Censure and Keproof of Martin Junior ; where,
lest the Springall should be utterly discouraged in his good
meaning, you shall tinde that he is not bereaved of his due
commendation."
Martin Senior, after finding fault with Martin Junior for
" his rash and indiscreet headiness," notwithstanding agrees
with everything he had said. He confirms all, and cheers
him ; but charges him,
" Should he meet their father in the street, never to ask
his blessing, but vvalke smoothly and circumspectly; and if anie
offer to talk with thee of Martin, talke thou straite of the
voyage into Portugal, or of the happie death of the Duke of
Guise, or some such accident; but meddle not with thy
father. Only, if thou have gathered anie thing in visitation
for thy father, intreate him to signify, in some secret printed
r i 2 Quarrels of Authors,
pistle, where a will have it lefte. I feare least some of us
should fall into John Canterburie's hand."
Such were the mj^sterious ])ersonages who, for a long time,
haunted the palaces of the bishops and the vicarages of the
clergy, disappearing at the moment they were suddenly per-
ceived to be near. Their slanders were not only coarse
buffooneries, but the hottest effusions of hatred, with an un-
paralleled invective of nicknames.* Levelled at the bishops,
even the natural defects, the personal infirmities, the domestic
privacies, miich more the tyranny, of these now " petty
popes," now " bouncing priests," now " terrible priests," were
the inexhaustible subjects of these popular invectives.f Those
* Cartwright approved of them, and well knew the concealed writers,
who frequently consulted him: this appears by Sir Gr. Paul's "Life of-
Whitgift," p. 65. Being asked his opinion of such books, he said, that
"since the bishops, and others there touched, would not amend by grave
books, it was therefore meet they should be dealt withal to their farther
reproach ; and that some books must be eai-nest, some more mild and
temperate, whereby they may be both of the spirit of Elias and Eliseus ;"
the one the great mocker, the other the more solemn reprover. It must be
confessed Cartwright here discovers a deep knowledge of human nature.
He knew the power of ridicule and of invective. At a later day, a writer
of the same stamp, in "The Second Wash, or the Moore Scoured once
more" (written against Dr. Henry More, the Platonist), in defence of that
vocabulary of names which he has poured on More, asserts it is a practice
allowed by the high authority of Christ himself. I transcribe the curious
passage : — "It is the practice of Christ himself to character men by those
things to which they assimilate. Thus hath he called Herod a fox ; Judas
a devil; false pastors he calls wolves ; the buyers and sellers, theeves;
and those Hebrew Puritans the Pharisees, hypocrites. This rule and
justice of his Master St. Paul hath well observed, and he acts freely
thereby ; for when he reproves the Cretians, he makes use of that ignomi-
nious proverb, Evil beasts and slow bellies. When the high priest com-
manded the Jews to smite him on the face, he replied to him, not without
some bitterness, God shall smite thee, thou white wall. I cite not these
places to justify an injurious spleen, but to argue the liberty of the truth."
— ITie Second Wash, or the Moore Scoured once more. 1651. P. 8.
+ One of their works is " A Dialogue, wherein is laid open the tyran-
nical dealing of L. Bishopps against Grod's children." It is full of scurri-
lous stories, probably brought together by two active cobblers who were so
useful to their junto. Yet the bishops of tliat day were not of disj?olute
manners ; and the accusations are such, that it only proves their willing-
ness to raise charges against them. Of one bishop they tell us, that after
declaring he was poor, and what expenses he had been at, as Paul's church
eould bear witness, shortly after hanged four of his servants for having
robbed him of a considerable sum. Of another, who cut down all the
woods at Hampstead, till the towns- women "fell a swaddling of his men,"
and so saved Hampstead by their resolution. But when Martin would
give a proof that the Bishop of London was one of the bishops of the devil,
Martin Mar -Prelate. 513
" pillars of the State" were now called " its caterpillars ;" and
the inferior clergy, who perhaps were not always friendly to
their superiors, yet dreaded this new race of innovators,
were distinguished as " halting neutrals." These invectives
were well farced for the gross taste of the multitude ; and
even the jargon of the lowest of the populace affected, and
perhaps the coarse malignity of two cobblers who were con-
nected with the party, often enlivened the satirical page.
The Martin Mar-Frelate productions are not, however, effu-
sions of genius ; they were addressed to the coarser passions
of mankind, their hatred and contempt. The authors were
grave men, but who affected to gain over the populace with a
in his "Pistle to the terrible priests," he tells this story : — "When the
bishop throws his bowl (as he useth it commonly upon the Sabbath-day), he
runnes after it ; and if it be too hard, he cries Ruh ! rub I rub ! the diuel
goe with thee ! and he goeth himself with it ; so that by these words he
names himself the Bishop of the Divel, and by his tirannical practice
prooveth himselfe to be." He tells, too, of a parson well known, who,
being in the pulpit, and "hearing his dog cry, he out with this text :
* Why, how now, hoe ! can you not let my dog alone there ? Come,
Springe ! come. Springe !' and whistled the dog to the pulpit." One of
their chief objects of attack was Cooper, Bishop of Lincoln, a laborious
student, but married to a dissolute woman, whom the University of Ox-
ford offered to separate from him : but he said he knew his infirmity, and
could not live without his wife, and was tender on the point of divorce.
He had a greater misfortune than even this loose woman about him — his
name could be punned on ; and this bishop may be placed among that un-
lucky class of authors who have fallen victims to their names. Shenstone
meant more than he expressed, when he thanked Grod that he could not
be punned on. Mar-Prelate, besides many cruel hits at Bishop Cooper's
wife, was now always " making the Cooper's hoops to flye off, and the
bishop's tubs to leake out." In '* The Protestatyon of Martin Marprelat,"
where he tells of two bishops, ' ' who so contended in throwing down elmes,
as if the wager had bene whether of them should most have impoverished
their bishopricks. Yet I blame not Mar-Elme so much as Cooper for this
fact, because it is no less given him by his name to spoil elmes, than it is
allowed him by the secret judgment of God to mar the Church. A man of
Cooper's age and occupation, so wel seene in that trade, might easily knowe
that tubs made of green timber must needs leak out ; and yet I do not so
greatly marvel ; for he that makes no conscience to be a deceiver in the
building of the churche, will not stick for his game to be a deceit full worTce-
man in making of tubbs.^' — p. 19. The author of the books against Bishop
Cooper is said to have been Job Throckmorton, a learned man, affecting
raillery and humour to court the mob.
Such was the strain of ribaldry and malice which Martin Mar-Prelate
indulged, and by which he obtained full possession of the minds of the
people for a considerable time. His libels were translated, and have been
often quoted by the Roman Catholics abroad and at home for their par-
ticular purposes, just as the revolutionary publications in this country have
L L
6l4 Quarrels of Authors,
popular familiarity.* In vain the startled bishops remon-
strated : they were supposed to be criminals, and were little
attended to as their own advocates. Besides, they were
solemn admonishers, and the mob are composed of laughers
and scorners.
The Court-party did not succeed more happily when they
persecuted Martin, broke up his presses, and imprisoned his
been concluded abroad to be the general sentiments ef the people of Eng-
land ; and thus our factions always will serve the interests of our enemies.
Martin seems to have written little vei-se ; but there is one epigram worth
preserving for its bitterness.
Martin Senior, in his "Reproofe of Martin Junior," complains that
• ' his younger brother has not taken a little paines in ryming with Mar-
Martin (one of their poetical antagonists), that the Cater-Caps may know
how the meanest of my father's sonnes is able to answeare them both at
blunt and sharpe." He then gives his younger brother a specimen of what
he is hereafter to do. He attributes the satire of Mar-Martin to Dr.
Bridges, Dean of Sarum, and John Whitgift, Archbishop of Canterbury.
** The first Rising, Generation, and Original of Mar-Martin.
** From Sarum came a goos's egg,
With specks and spots bepatched ;
A priest of Lambeth couch t thereon.
Thus was Mar-Martin hatched.
Whence hath Mar-Martin all his wit,
But from that egge of Sarum ?
The rest comes all from great Sir John,
Who rings us all this 'larum.
What can the cockatrice hatch up
But serpents like himselfe ?
What sees the ape within the glasse
But a deformed elfe ?
Then must Mar-Martin have some smell
Of forge, or else of fire :
A sotte in wit, a beaste in minde,
For so was damme and sire."
* It would, however, appear that these revolutionary publications reached
the universities, and probably fermented "the green heads" of our stu-
dents, as the following grave admonition directed to them evidently
proves : —
*' Anti-Martinus sive monitio cujusdam Londinensis ad adolescentes
vtrimque academise contra personatum quendam rabulam qui se Anglicd
Martin Marprelat, &c. Londini, 1589, 4°."
A popular favourite as he was, yet even Martin, in propria persona,
acknowledges that his manner was not approved of by either party. His
"Theses Martinianse" opens thus : " I see my doings and my course mis-
liked of many, both the good and the bad ; though also I have favourers of
both sortes. The bishops and their traine, though they stumble at the
Martin Mar-Prelate. 515
assistants. Never did sedition travel so fast, nor conceal
itself so closely ; for they employed a moveable press ; and,
as soon as it was surmised that Martin was in Surrey, it was
found he was removed to Northamptonshire, while the next
account came that he was showing his head in Warwickshire.
And long they invisibly conveyed themselves, till in Lanca-
shire the snake was scotched by the Earl of Derby, with all its
little brood.*
cause, yet especially mislike my maner of writing. Those whom foolishly
men call Puriianes, like of the matter I have handled, but the forme they
cannot brooke. So that herein I have them both for mine adversaries.
But now what if I should take the course in certain theses or conclusions,
without inveighivg against either person or cause." This was probably
written after Martin had swallowed some of his own sauce, or taken his
"Pap (offered to him) with a Hatchet," as one of the nost celebrated go--
vernment pamphlets is entitled. But these " Theses Martinianse," with-
out either scurrility or invective are the dullest things imaginable ; ab-
stract propositions were not palatable to the multitude ; and then it was,
after the trial had been made, that Martin Junior and Senior attempted
to revive the spirit of the old gentleman ; but if sedition has its progress,
it has also its decline ; and if it could not strike its blow when strongest,
it only puled and made grimaces, prognostics of weakness and dissolution.
This is admirably touched in " Pappe with an Hatchet." "Now Old
Martin appeared, with a wit worn into the socket, twingling and pinking
like the snuffe of a candle ; quantum mutatu^ ah illo, how unlike the
knave he was before, not for malice, but for sharpnesse ! The hogshead
was even come to the bauncing, and nothing could be drawne from him
but dregs ; yet the eraptie caske sounds lowder than when it was full, and
protests more in his waining than he could performe in his waxing. I drew
neere the sillie soul, whom I found quivering in two sheets of protestation
paper (alluding to the work mentioned here in the following note). O how
meager and leane he looked, so crest falne that his combe hung downe to
his bill ; and had I not been sure it was the picture of Envie, I should
have sworn it had been the image of Death : so like the verie anatomic of
Mischief, that one might see through all the ribbes of his conscience."
In another rare pamphlet from the same school, "Pasquill of England to
Martin Junior, in a countercuffe given to Martin Junior," he humorously
threatens to write '* The Owle's Almanack, wherein your night labours be
set down;" and **some fruitful volumes of 'The Lives of the Saints,'
which, maugre your father's five hundred sons, shall be printed," with
"hays, jiggs, and roundelays, and madrigals, serving for epitaphs for his
father's hearse."
* Some of these works still bear evident marks that the "pursuivants"
were hunting the printers. "The Protestatyon of Martin Mar-Prelate,
wherein, notwithstanding the surprising of the printer, he maketh it
knowne vnto the world that he feareth neither proud priest, tirannous
prelate, nor godlesse eater-cap ; but defieth all the race of them," including
"a challenge" to meet them personally ; was probably one of their latest
efforts. The printing and the orthography show all the imperfections of
that haste in which they were forced to print this work. As they lost
ll2
516 Quarrels of Authors,
These pamphlets were " speedily dispersed and greedily
read," not only by the people ; they had readers and even
patrons among persons of condition. They were found in
the corners oi" chambers at Court; and when a prohibition
issued that no person should carry about them any of the
Mar-Prelate pamphlets on pain of punishment, the Earl of
Essex observed to the Queen, " What then is to become of
me?" drawing one of these pamphlets out of his bosom, and
presenting it to her.
The Martinists were better counteracted by the Wits, in
their strengtli, they were getting more venomous. Among the little Mar-
tins disturbed in the hour of parturition, but already christened, there
■were: " Episto Mastix ;" "The Lives and Doings of Englisli Poi)es ;"
"Itinerarium, or Visitations;" " Lambethisms." The "Itinerary" was
a survey of every clergyman of England ! and served as a model to a
similar work, which appeared during the time of the Commonwealth. The
" Lambethisms" were secrets divulged by Martin, who, it seems, had got
into the palace itself ! Their productions were, probably, often got up in
haste, in utter scorn of the Horatian precept. [These pamphlets were
printed with difficulty and danger, in secrecy and fear, for they were
rigidly denounced by the goveranient of Elizabeth. Sir George Paul, in
his " Life of Archbishop Whitgift," informs us that they were printed with
a kind of wandering press, which was first set up at Moulsey, near King-
ston-on-Thames, and from thence conveyed to Fauseley in Northampton-
shire, and from thence to Norton, afterwards to Coventry, from thence to
Welstone in Warwickshire, from which place the letters were sent to an-
other press in or near Manchester ; where by the means of Henry, Earl of
Derby, the press was discovered in printing "More Work for a Cooper ;"
an answer to Bishop Cooper's attack on the party, and a work so rare Mr.
Maskell says, " I believe no copy of it, in any state, remains."]
As a great curiosity, I preserve a fragment in the Scottish dialect, which
well describes them and their views. The title is wanting in the only copy
I have seen ; but its extreme rarity is not its only value : there is some-
thing venerable in the criticism, and poignant in the political sarcasm.
" Weil lettred clarkis endite their warkes, quoth Horace, slow and
geasoun,
Bot thou can wise forth buike by buike, at every spurt and seasoun ;
For men of litrature t' endite so fast, them doth not fitte,
Enanter in them, as in thee, their pen outrun thair witte.
The shaftis of foolis are soone shot out, but fro the merke they stray ;
So art thou glibbe to guibe and taunte, but rouest all the way,
Quhen thou hast parbrackt out thy gorge, and shot out all thy arrowes,
See that thou hold thy clacke, and hang thy quiver on the galloM's,
Els Clarkis will soon all be Sir Johns, the priestis craft will empaire,
And Dickin, Jackin, Tom, and Hob, mon sit in Rabbles chaire.
Let Georg and Nichlas, cheek by jol, bothe still on cock-horse yode,
That dignitie of Pristis with thee may hau a long abode.
El'j Litrature mon spredde her wings, and piercing welkin bright,
To Heaven, from whence she did first wend, retire and take her llight."
Martin Mar -Prelate. 517
some extraordinary effusions, prodigal of humour and invective
Wit and raillery were happily exercised against these masked
divines : for the gaiety of the Wits was not foreign to their
feelings. The Mar-Prelates showed merry faces, but it was
with a sardonic grin they had swallowed the convulsing herb ;
they horridly laughed against their will — at bottom all was
gloom and despair. The extraordinary style of their pamph-
lets, concocted in the basest language of the populace, might
have originated less from design than from the impotence of
the writers. Grave and learned persons have often found to
their cost that wit and humour must spring fi-om the soil ;
no art of man can plant them there. With such, this play
and grace of the intellect can never be the movements of their
nature, but its convulsions.
Father Martin and his two sons received " A sound boxe
of the eare," in " apistle" to " the father and the two sonnes,
Huffe, Ruffe, and Snuffe, the three tame ruffians of the
Church, who take pepper in the nose because they cannot
marre prelates grating," when they once met with an adver-
sary who openly declared —
" I profess rayling, and think it is as good a cudgel for a
Martin as a stone for a dogge, or a whip for an ape, or poison
for a rat. Who would curry an ass with an ivory comb ?
Give this beast thistles for provender. I doe but yet angle
with a silken flie, to see whether Martins will nibble ; and if
I see that, why then I have wormes for the nonce, and will
give them line enough, like a trowte, till they swallow both
hooke and line, and then, Martin, beware your gills, for I'll
make you daunce at the pole's end."
" Fill thy answer as full of lies as of lines, swell like a
toade, hiss like an adder, bite like a dog, and chatter like a
monkey, my pen is prepared, and my mind; and if you
channce to find anie worse words than you broughte, let
them be put in your dad's dictionarie. Farewell, and be
hanged ; and I pray God you fare no worse. — Yours at an
hour's warning."
This was the proper way to reply to such writers, by
driving them out of the field with their own implements of
warfare. " Pasquill of England"* admirably observed of the
papers of this faction — " Doubt not but that the same reckon-
ing in the ende will be made of you which your favourers
* " Pasquill of England to Martin Junior, in a countercuffe given to
Martin Junior."
518 Quarrels of Authors.
commonly make of their old shooes — when they are past'
wearing, they barter them avvaie for newe broomes, or carrie
them forth to the duns^hill and leave them there." The
writers of these Martin Mar- Prelate books have been tolerably
ascertained,* considering the secrecy with which they were
printed — sometimes at night, sometimes hid in cellars, and
never long in one place : besides the artifices used in their
dispersion, by motley personages, held together by an in-
visible chain of confederacy. Conspiracy, like other miser}%
" acquaints a man with strange bedfellows ;" and the present
confederacy combined persons of the most various descriptions,
and perhaps of very opposite views. I find men of learning,
and of rigid lives, intimately associated with dissipated, or
with too ardently-tempered youths ; connected, too, with
maniacs, whose lunacy had taken a revolutionary turn ; and
men of rank combining with old women and cobblers.f Such
* " Most of the books under Martin's name were composed by John
Penry, John Udall, John Field, and Job Throckmorton, who all concurred
in making Martin. See ' Answer to Throgmorton's Letter by Sutcliflfe,'
p. 70; 'More Work for a Cooper;' and ' Hay any Work for a Cooper ; ' and
* Some layd open in his Colours ;' were composed by Job Throckmorton."
— MS. Note by Thomas Baker. Udall, indeed, denied having any concern
in these invectives, and professed to disapprove of them. We see Cart-
wright, however, of quite a different opinion. In Udall's library some
MS. notes had been seen by a person who considered them as materials for
a Martin Mar- Prelate work in embryo, which Udall confessed were written
" by a friend." All the writers were silenced ministers ; though it is
not improbable that their scandalous tales, and much of the ribaldry,
might have been contributed by their lowest retainers, those purveyors for
the mob, of what they lately chose to call their " Pig's-meat."
f The execution of Hacket, and condemnation of his party, who had
declared him " King of Europe," so that England was only a province to
him, is noted incur " Greneral History of England." This was the first
serious blow which alarmed the Puritanic party. Doubtless, this man was
a mere maniac, and his ferocious passions broke out early in life ; but, in
that day, they permitted no lunacy as a plea for any politician. Cart-
wright held an intercourse with that party, as he had with Barrow, said to
have been a debauched youth ; yet we had a sect of Barrowists ; and Robert
Brown, the founder of another sect, named after him Brownists ; which
became very formidable. This Brown, for his relationship, was patronised
by Cecil, Earl of Burleigh. He was a man of violent passions. He had a
wife, with whom he never lived ; and a church, wherein he never preached,
observes the characterising Fuller, who knew him when Fuller was young.
In one of the pamphlets of the time I have seen, it is mentioned that being
reproached with beating his wife, he replied, " I do not beat Mrs. Brown
as my wife, but as a curst cross old woman." He closed his life in prison ;
not for his opinions, but for his brutality to a constable. The old women
and the cobblers connected with these Martin Mar-Prelates are noticed in
Martin Mar-Prelate, 519
are the party-coloured apostles of insurrection ! and thus their
honourable and dishonourable motives lie so blended together,
that the historian cannot separate them. At the moment
the haughty spirit of a conspirator is striking at the head of
established authority, he is himself crouching to the basest
intimates ; and to escape often from an ideal degradation,
he can bear with a real one.
the burlesque epitaphs on Martin's death, supposed to be made by his
favourites; a humorous appendix to "Martin's Monthminde." Few po-
litical conspiracies, whenever religion forms a pretext, is without a woman.
One Dame Lawson is distinguished, changing her " silke for sacke ;" and
other names might be added of ladies. Two cobblers are particularly
noticed as some of the industrious purveyors of sedition through the king-
dom — CliiFe, the cobbler, and one Newman. Clifte's epitaph on his friend
Martin is not without humour : —
** Adieu, both naule and bristles now for euer ;
The shoe and soale — ah, woe is me ! — must sever.
Bewaile, mine awle, thy sharpest point is gone ;
My brl«*le's broke, and I am left alone.
Farewell old shoes, thumb-stall, and clouting-leather ;
Martin is gone, and we undone together."
Nor is Newman, the other cobbler, less mortified and pathetic. * ' The
London Corresponding Society" had a more ancient origin than that sodality
was aware.
" My hope once was, my old shoes should be sticht ;
My thumbs ygilt, that were before bepicht :
Now Martin's gone, and laid full deep in ground,
My gentry's lost, befoi-e it could be found."
Among the Martin Mar-Prelate books was one entitled "The Cobbler's
Book." This I have not seen ; but these cobblers probably picked up in-
telligence for these scandalous chronicles. The writers, too, condescended
to intersperse the cant dialect of the populace, with which the cobblers
doubtless assisted these learned men, when busied in their buffoonery.
Hence all their vulgar gibberish ; the Shibboleth of the numerous class of
their admirers — such as, "0, whose toi?" John ^ankerbury, for Can-
terbury ; PaZ^ri-politans, for Metropolitans ; See Villains, for Civilians ;
and Doctor of Devility, for Divinity ! and more of this stamp. Who could
imagine that the writers of these scurrilities were learned men, and that
their patrons were men of rank ! We find two knights heavily fined for
secreting these books in their cellars. But it is the nature of rebellion to
unite the two extremes ; for want stirs the populace to rise, and excess
the higher orders. This idea is admirably expressed in one of our elder
poets : —
'* Want made them murmur ; for the people, who
To get their bread, do wrestle with their fate,
Or those, who in superfluous riot flow,
Soonest rebel. Convulsions in a State,
Like those which natural bodies do oppress,
Else from repletion, or from emptiness."
Aleyne's Henry Yll,
520 Quarrels of Authors.
Of the heads of this party, I shall notice Penry and Udall,
two self-devoted victims to Nonconformity. The most active
was John Penry, or Ap Henry. He exulted that " he was
born and bred in the mountains of Wales :" he had, however,
studied at both our Universities. He had all the heat of his
soil and of his party. He " wished that his head might not
go down to the grave in peace," and was just the man to
obtain his purpose. When he and his papers were at length
seized, Penry pleaded that he could not be tried for sedition,
professing unbounded loyalty to the Queen : such is the usual
plea of even violent Keformers. Yet how could Elizabeth be
the sovereign, unless she adopted the mode of government
planned by these Reformers ? In defence of his papers, he
declared that they were only the private memorandums of a
scholar, in which, during his wanderings about the kingdom,
he had collected all the objections he had heard against the
government. Yet these, though written down, might not be
his own. He observed that they were not even English, nor
intelligible to his accusers ; but a few Welshisms could not
save Ap Henry ; and the judge, assuming the hardy position,
that scribere est agere^ the author found more honour con-
ferred on his MSS. than his genius cared to receive. It was
this very principle which proved so fatal, at a later period, to
a more elevated politician than Penry ; yet Algernon Sidney,
perhaps, possessed not a spirit more Roman.* State necessity
claimed another victim ; and this ardent young man, whose
execution had been at first unexpectedly postponed, was sud-
denly hurried from his dinner to a temporary gallows ; a
* The writer of Algernon Sidney's Memoirs could not have known this
fact, or he would not have said that "this was the first indictment of
high treason upon which any man lost his life for writing anything with-
out publishing it.'' — Edit. 1751, p. 21. It is curious to have Sidney'?
own opinion on this point. We discover this on his trial. He gives it,
assuming one of his own noble principles, not likely to have been allowed
by the wretched Tories of that day. Addressing the villanons Jeffries,
the Lord Chief Justice : — "My Lord, I think it is a right of manlcind^
and His exercised by all studious men, to write, in their own closets,
what they please, for their own memory ; and no man can be answerable
for it, unless they publish it." Jeffries replied : — "Pray don't go away
with that 1-ight of nianhindy that it is lawful for me to write what I will
in my own closet, so I do not publish it. We must not endure men to
talk thus, that by the right of nature every man may contrive mischief in
his own chamber, and is not to be punished till he thinks fit to be called
to it," Jeffries was a profligate sophist, but his talents were as great as
his vices.
Martin Mar-Prelate, 521
circumstance marked by its cruelty, but designed to prevent
an expected tumult.*
Contrasted with this fiery Mar-Prelate was another, the
learned subtile John Udall. His was the spirit which dared
to do all that Penry had dared, yet conducting himself in the
heat of action with the tempered wariness of age : " If they
silence me as a minister," said he, " it will allow me leisure
to write ; and then I will give the bishops such a blow as
shall make their hearts ache." It was agreed among the
party neither to deny, or to confess^ writing any of their
books, lest among the suspected the real author might thus
be discovered, or forced solemnly to deny his own work ; and
when the Bishop of Rochester, to catch Udall by surprise,
* Penry's unfinished petition, whicli he designed to have presented to
the Queen before the trial, is a bold and energetic composition ; his protes-
tation, after the trial, a pathetic prayer ! Neale has preserved both in his
"History of the Puritans." With what simplicity of eloquence he remon-
strates on the temporising government of Elizabeth. He thus addresses the
Queen, under the title of Madam 1 — " Your standing is, and has been, by
the Grospel : it is little beholden to you for anything that appears. The
practice of your government shows that if you could have ruled without
the Gospel, it would have been doubtful whether the Gospel should be
established or not ; for now that you are established in your throne by
the Gospel, you suffer it to reach no farther than the end of your sceptre
limiteth unto it." Of a milder, and more melancholy cast, is the touching
language, when the hope of life, but not the firmness of his cause had de-
serted him. " I look not to live this week to an end. I never took my-
self for a rebuker, much less for a reformer of states and kingdoms. I
never did anything in this cause for contention, vainglory, or to draw dis-
ciples after me. Great things, in this life, I never sought fi)r : sufficiency
I had, with great outward trouble ; but most content I was with my lot,
and content with my untimely death, though I leave behind me a friend-
less widow and four infants." — Such is often the pathetic cry of tlie simple-
hearted, who fall the victims to the political views of more designing heads.
We could hardly have imagined that this eloquent and serious young man
was that Martin Mar-Prelate who so long played the political ape before tlie
populace, with all the mummery of their low buffoonery, and even mimick-
ing their own idioms. The populace, however, seems to have been divided
in their opinions respecting the sanity of his politi'^s, as appears by some
ludicrous lines, made on Penry's death, by a northern rhymer.
" The Welshman is hanged,
Who at our kirke flanged,
And at the state banged.
And brened are his buks.
And though he be hanged,
Yet he is not wrauged ;
The deil has him fanged
In his kruked kluks."
Wekvek's Funerall Monuments, p. 56. Edit. 1631.
523 Quarrels of Authors.
suddenly said, " Let me ask you a question concerning your
book," the wary Udall replied, " It is not yet proved to be
mine!" He adroitly explained away the offending passages
the lawyers picked out of his book, and in a contest between
him and the judge, not only repelled him with his own arms,
but when his lordship would have wrestled on points of di-
vinity, Udall expertly perplexed the lawyer by showing he
had committed an anachronism of four hundred years ! He
was equally acute with the witnesses ; for when one deposed
that he had seen a catalogue of Udall' s library'-, in which was
inserted " The Demonstration of DiscipHne," the anonymous
book for which Udall was prosecuted ; with great ingenuity
he observed that this was rather an argument that he was
not the author, for " scholars use not to put their own books
in the catalogue of those they have in their study." We
observe with astonishment the tyrannical decrees of our
courts of justice, which lasted till the happy Revolution.
The bench was as depraved in their notions of the rights of
the subject in the reign of Elizabeth as in those of Charles
II. and James II. The Court refused to hear Udall's wit-
nesses, on this strange principle, that " witnesses in favour of
the prisoner were against the queen !" To which Udall re-
plied, " It is for the queen to hear all things when the life of
any of her subjects is in question." The criminal felt what
was just more than his judges ; and yet the judge, though to
be reprobated for his mode, calling so learned a man
" Sirrah !" was right in the thing, when he declared that
" you would bring the queen and the crown under your
girdles." It is remarkable that Udall repeatedly employed
that expression which Algernon Sidney left as his last legacy
to the people, when he told them he was about to die for
" that Old Cause in which I was from my youth engaged."
Udall perpetually insisted on " The Cause.'^ This was a term
which served at least for a watchword : it rallied the scat-
tered members of the republican party. The precision of the
expression might have been difficult to ascertain ; and, per-
haps, like every popular expedient, varied with " existing cir-
cumstances." I did not, however, know it had so remote an
origin as in the reign of Elizabeth ; and suspect it may still
be freshened up, ai;d varnished over, for any present occasion.
The last stroke for Udall's character is the history of his
condemnation. He suffered the cruel mockery of a pardon
granted conditionally, by the intercession of the Scottish
artin Mar-Prelate. 523
monarch but never signed by the Queen — and Udall moul-
dered away the remnant of his days in a rigid imprison-
ment.* Cartw right and Travers, the chief movers of this
faction, retreated with haste and caution from the victims
they had conducted to the place of execution, while they
themselves sunk into a quiet forge tfulness and selfish repose.
SUPPLEMENT TO MAETIN MAB-PEELATE.
As a literary curiosity, I shall preserve a very rare poetical
tract, which describes with considerable force the Eevolu-
tionists of the reign of Elizabeth. They are indeed those of
wild democracy ; and the subject of this satire will, I fear, be
never out of time. It is an admirable political satire against
a mob-government. In our poetical history, this specimen
too is curious, for it will show that the stanza in alternate
rhymes, usually denominated elegiac, is adapted to very op-
posite themes. The solemnity of the versification is impres-
sive, and the satire equally dignified and keen.
The taste of the mere modern reader had been more grati-
fied by omitting some unequal passages ; but, after delibera-
tion, I found that so short a composition would be injured by
dismembering extracts. I have distinguished by italics the
lines to which I desire the reader's attention, and have added
a few notes to clear up some passages which might appear
obscure.
* Observe what different conclusions are drawn from the same fact by
opposite writers. Heylin, arguing that Udall bad been justly condemned,
adds, " the man remained a living monument of the archbishop's extraor-
dinary goodness to him in the preserving of that life which by the law he
had forfeited." But Neale, on the same point, considers him as one who
*'died for his conscience, and stands upon record as a monument of the
oppression and cruelty of the government," All this opposition of feeling
is of the nature of party-spirit ; but what is more curious ia the history of
human nature, is the change of opinion in the same family in the course of
the same generation. The son of this Udall was as great a zealot for Con-
formity, and as great a sufferer for it from his father's party, when they
possessed political power. This son would not submit to their oaths and
covenants, but, with his bedridden wife, was left unmercifully to perish
in the open streets. — Walker's Sufferings of the Clergy, part ii. p. 178.
524 Quarrels of Authors.
EYTHMES AGAINST MARTIN MARRE-PRELATE.*
Ordo Sacerdotv/m fatuo turbatur ah omni,
Labitur et passim Religionis honos.
Since Reason, Martin, cannot stay thy pen,
We 'il see what rime will do ; have at thee then !
A Dizard late skipt out upon our stage,
But in a sacke, that no man might him see ;
And though we know not yet the paltrie page,
Himself e hath Martin made his name to bee.
A proper name, and for his feates most fit ;
The only thing wherein he hath shew'd wit.
Who knoweth not, that Apes, men Martins call,t
Which beast, this baggage seemes as 't were himselfe ;
So as both nature, nurture, name, and all,
Of that's expressed in this apish elfe.
Which He make good to Martin Marre-als face.
In three plaine poynts, and will not bate an ace.
For, first, the Ape delights with moppes and moweSf
And mocketh Prince and Peasants all alike;
This jesting Jacke, that no good manners knowes,
With his Asse-heeles presumes all states to strike.
Whose scoflFes so stinking in each nose doth smell,
As all mouthes sale of Dolts he beares the bell.
Sometimes his chappes do walke in poynts too high,
Wherein the Ape himself a Woodcock tries.
Sometimes with floutes he drawes his mouth awrie.
And sweares by his ten bones, and falselie lies.
Wherefore be he what he will I do not passe ;
He is the paltriest Ape that euer was.
Such fleering, leering, jeering fooles bopeepe,
Such hahas ! teehees ! weehees ! wild colts play;
* In Herbert's "Typographical Antiquities," p. 1689, this tract is in-
tituled, " A Whip for an Ape, or Martin Displaied." I have also seen the
poem with this title. Readers were then often invited to an old book by
a change of title : in some cases, I think the same work has been published
with several titles.
+ Martin was a name for a hird, and a cant term for an Ass ; and, as
it appears here, an Ape. Our Martins, considered as birds, were often
reminded that their proper food was "hempen seed," which at length
choked them. That it meant an Ass, appears from " Pappe with a
Hatchet." " Be thou Martin the bird or Martin the beast, a bird with
the longest bill, or a beast with the longest ears, there's a net spread for
your neck." — Sign. B. 5. There is an old French proverb, quoted by Cot-
grave, voce Martin : — " Plus d'un asne a lafoire, a nom Martin."
Martin Mar^Prelate. 525
Such Sohoes ! whoopes aud hallowes ; hold and keepe ;
Such rangings, ragings, reiielings, roysters ray;
With so foule mouth, and knaue at euery catch,
*Tis some knaue's nest did surely Martin hatch.
Now out he rurmes with CucJcowe Jcing of May,
Then in he leapes with a wild Morrice daunce;
Then strikes he up Dame LawsorCs* lustie lay ;
Then comes Sir Jeffrie! s ale-tub, tapp'd by chaunof
Which makes me gesse, aud I can shrewdly smell.
He loues both t' one and t'other passing well.
Then straight, as though he were distracted quife^
He chafeth like a cut-purse layde in warde;
And rudely railes with all his maine and might,
Against both knights and lords without regard:
So as Bridewell must tame his dronken fits,
And Bedlem help to bring him to his wits.
But, Martin, why, in matters of such weight.
Dost thou thus play the dawe, and dauncing foole ?
sir (quoth he) this is a pleasant haite
For men of sorts, to traine them to my schoole.
Ye noble states, how can you like hereof,
A shamelesse Ape at your sage head should scqfc?
Good Noddie, now leaue scribbling in such matters ;
They are no tooles for fooles to tend unto ;
Wise men regard not what mad monkies patters !
'Twere trim a beast should teach men what to do.
Now Tarleton^s dead, the consort lackes a Vice.
For knaue and foole thou maist bear prick aud price.
The sacred sect, and perfect pure precise,
Whose cause must be by Scoggin's jests mainteinde,
Ye shewe, although that Purple, Apes disguise,
Yet Apes are still, and so must be, disdainde.
For though your Lyons lookes weake eyes escapes.
Your babling bookes bewraies you all for Apes.
* Martin was a proteg6 of this Dame Lawson. There appear to have
been few political conspiracies without a woman, whenever religion forms
a part. This dame is thus noticed in the mock epitaphs on Martin's funeral—
*' Away with silk, for I will mourn in sacke ;
Martin is dead, our new sect goes to wrack.
Come, gossips mine, put finger in the eie.
He made us laugh, but now must make us crie."
Dame Lawson.
" Sir Jeffrie's Ale-tub" alludes to two knights who were ruinously fined,
and hardly escaped with life, for their patronage of Martin.
526 Quarrels of Authors.
The next point is, Apes use to tosse and teart
What once their fidling fingers fasten on ;
And clime aloft, and cast doivne euery where,
And neuer staie till all that stands be gonl
Now whether this in Martin be not true,
You wiser heads marke here what doth ensue.
What is it not that Martin doth not rent ?
Cappes, tippets, gownes, black chiuers, rotchets white ;
Communion bookes, and homelies : yea, so bent
To teare, as women's wimples feele his spite.
Thus tearing all, as all apes use to doo,
He teai'es withall the Church of Christ in two.
Marke now what thinges he meanes to tumble downe,
For to this poynt to look is worth the while.
In one that makes no choice 'twixt cap and crowne,
Cathedral churches he would fain untile,
And snatch up bishops' lands, and catch away
All gaine of learning for his prouling pray.
And thivke you not he will pull downe at length
As well the top from tower as cockefrom steeple ;
And when his head hath gotten some more strength,
To play with Prince as now he doth with People:
Yes, he that now saith. Why should Bishops bee ?
Will next crie out, Why Kings ? The Saincts are free/
The Germaine boores with Clergiemen began,
But neuer left till Prince and Peeres were dead.
JacJce Leyden was a holy zealous man,
But ceast not till the Crowne was on his head.
And Martinis mate, Jacke Strawe, would alwaies ring,
The Clergie's faults, but sought to kill the King.
** Oh that," quoth Martin, **chwere a Nobleman !"*
Avaunt, vile villain ! 'tis not for such swads.
And of the Counsell, too : marke Princes then :
These roomes are raught at by these lustie lads.
For Apes must climbe, and neuer stay their wit,
Untill on top of highest Miles they sit.
What meane they els, in euery towne to crane
Their Priest and King like Christ himself to be :
And for one Pope ten thousand Popes to have,
And to controll the highest he or she ?
Aske Scotland that, whose King so long they crost,
As he was like his kingdome to haue lost.
Beware ye States and Nobles of this lande,
The Clergie is but one of these men's buttes.
The Ape at last on master's necke will stande:
Then gegge betimes these gaping greedie gutts.
* Chwere, i. e. ** that I were," alluding to their frequently adopting the
corrupt phraseology of the populace, to catch the ears of the mob.
Martin Mar-Prelate. 527
Least that too soone, and then too late ye feeUj
He strikes at head that first began with heele.
The third tricke is, what Apes hy flattering waies
Cannot come by with biting, they will snatch;
Our Martin makes no bones, but plain ely saies,
Their fists shall walke, they will both bite and scratch.
He'll make their hearts to ake, and will not faile.
Where pen cannot, their penknife shall prevail.*
But this is false, he saith he did but mock :
A foole he was, that so his words did scanne.
He only meant with pen their pates to knocke ;
A knaue he is, that so turns cat in pan.
But, Martin, sweare and stare as deepe as hell,
Thy sprite, thy spite and mischeuous minde doth tell.
The thing that neither Pope vnth booke nor bull,
Nor Spanish King with ships could doe without^
Our Martins heere at home will vjorke at full :
If Prince curbe not betimes that rabble rout.
That is, destroy both Church and State and all ;
For if t' one faile, the other needes must fall.
Thou England, then, whom God doth make so glad
Through Grospel's grace and Prince's prudent reigne,
Take heede lest thou at last be made as sad.
Through Martin's makebates marring, to thy paine.
For he marrs all and maketh nought, nor will,
Saue lies and strife, and works for England's ill.
And ye graue men that answere Martin's mowes,
He mocks the more, and you in vain loose times.
Leaue Apes to Doggs to baite, their skins to Crowes^
And let old Lanamf lashe him with his rimes.
The beast is proud when men 7'ead his enditings;
Let his workes goe the waie of all wast writings.
Now, Martin, you that say you will spawne out
Your brawling brattes, in euery towne to dwell,
We vnll provide in each place for your route,
A bell and whippe that Apes do loue so well.
And if yo skippe, and will not wey the check e,
We 'il haue a springe, and catche you by the necke.
* It is a singular coincidence that Amauld, in his caustic retort on
the Jesuits, said — "I do not fear your pen, but your penknife.''^ The
play on the word, tells even better in our language than in the original —
plume and canife.
f I know of only one Laneham, who wrote "A Narrative of the Queen's
Visit at Kenil worth Castle, " 1 575. He was probably a redoubtable satirist.
I do not find his name in Ritson's *' Bibliographia Poetica."
528 Quarrels of Author Sm
And so adieu, mad il/a7-^i?i-mar-the-land
Leaue off thy worke, and "more work"* hearest thou me:
Thy work's nought worth, take better worke iu hand.
Thou marr'st thy worke, and thy work vjill marre thee.
Worke not anewe, least it doth work thy wracke.
And then make worke for him that worke doth lacke.
And this I warn thee, Martin Mouckies-face,
Take heed of me ; my rime doth charm thee bad,
I am a rimer of the Irish race,
And haue alreadie rimde thee staring mad.
But if thou cease not thy bald jests to spread,
I'le never leave till I have rimde thee dead.
* Alluding to the title of one of their most virulent libels against Bishop
Cooper ["Hay any worke for Cooper," which was a pun on the Bishop's
name, conveyed in the street cry of an itinerant trader, and was followed
by another entitled] "More work for a Cooper." Cooper, in his " Admo-
nition to the People of England," had justly observed that this Mar-Prelate
ought to have many other names. See note, p. 510.
I will close this note with an extract from "Pappe with a Hatchet,"
which illustrates the ill effects of all sudden reforms, by an apposite and
original image.
" There was an aged man that lived in a well-ordered Commonwealth
by the space of threescore years, and iinding, at the length, that by the
heate of some men's braines, and the warmness of other men's blood, that
newe alterations were in hammering, and that it grewe to such an height,
that all the desperate and discontented persons were readie to runne their
heads against their head ; comming into the midst of these mutiners,
cried, as loude as his yeeres would allow : — 'Springalls, and vnripened
youthes, whose wisedomes are yet in the blade, when this snowe shall be
melted (laying his hand on his siluer haires) then shall you find store of
dust, and rather wish for the continuance of a long frost, than the in-
comming of an vntimely thawj* " — Sig, D. 3. verso.
LITERARY QUARRELS
PERSONAL MOTIVES
Anecdote of a Bishop and a Doctor — Dr. Middleton and Dr. Bentlet—
Warburton and Dr. Taylor — Warburton and Edwards — Swift and
Dryden — Pope and Bkntley — why fiction is necessary for satire, ac-
cording to Lord Rochester's confession — Rowe and Addison — Pope
and Atterbury — Sir John Hawkins and George Steevens — a fierce
controversial author a dangerous neighbour — a ludicrous instance of a
literary quarrel from personal motives between Bohun and the Wyke-
hamists.
LiTERAET QuABRELS have abundantly sprung from mere per-
sonal motives ; and controversies purely literary, sometimes
of magnitude, have broken out, and been voluminously carried
on, till the public are themselves involved in the contest,
while the true origin lies concealed in some sudden squabble ;
some neglect of petty civility; some unlucky epithet ; or some
casual observation dropped without much consideration, which
mortified or enraged the author. How greatly has passion
prevailed in literary history ! How often the most glorious
pages in the chronicles of literature are tainted with the secret
history which must be placed by their side, so that the origin
of many considerable works, which do so much honour to the
heads of their authors, sadly accuse their hearts. But the
heaven of Virgil was disturbed with quarrels —
Tantsene animis coelestibus irse ?
Can heavenly minds such high resentment show ?
Dryden.
And has not a profound observer of human affairs declared,
Ex privatis odiis respablica crescit? individual hatreds ag-
grandize the republic. This miserable philosophy will satisfy
those who are content, from private vices, to derive public
benefits. One wishes for a purer morality, and a more noble
inspiration.
M M
530 Quarrels of Authors.
To a literary quarrel from personal motives we owe the
origin of a very remarkable volume. When Dr. Parr deli-
vered his memorable sermon, which, besides the " sesqui-
pedalia verba,'^ v/as perhaps the longest that ever was heard
— if not listened to — Bishop Hurd, who had always played
the part of one of the most wary of politicians in private life,
and who had occasion once adroitly to explain the French
word Retenue, which no man better understood, in a singu-
larly unguarded moment, sarcastically observed that he did
not like "the doctor's long vernacular sermon." The happy
epithet was soon conveyed to the classical ear of the modern
Grecian : it was a wasp in it ! The bishop had, in the days
of literary adventure, published some pieces of irony, which
were thought more creditable to his wit than his feelings —
and his great patron, Warburton, certain juvenile prose and
verse — all of which they had rejected from their works. But
this it is to be an author ! — his errors remain when he has
outlived and corrected them. The mighty and vindictive
Grecian in rage collected them all ; exhausted his own genius
in perpetuating follies ; completed the works of the two
bishops in utter spite ; and in " Tracts by Warburton and a
Warburtonian," has furnished posterity with a specimen of
the force of his own "vernacular" style, giving a lesson to
the wary bishop, who had scarcely wanted one all his life — of
the dangers of an unlucky epithet !
Dr. Conyers Middleton, the author of the " Life of Cicero,"
seldom wrote but out of pique ; and he probably owed his
origin as an author to a circumstance of this nature. Mid-
dleton when young was a Dilettante in music ; and Dr.
Bentley, in contempt, applied the epithet "fiddling Conyers."
Had the irascible Middieton broken his violin about the head
of the learned Grecian, and thus terminated the quarrel, the
epithet had then cost Bentley's honour much less than it
afterwards did. It seems to have excited Middleton to deeper
studies, which the great Bentley not long after felt when he
published proposals for an edition of the New Testament in
Greek. Middleton published his " Eemarks, paragraph by
paragraph, upon the proposals," to show that Bentley had
neither talents nor materials proper for the work. This
opened a great paper-war, and again our rabid wolf fastened
on the majestic lion, " paragraph by paragraph." And though
the lion did affect to bear in contempt the fangs of his little
active enemy, the flesh was torn. " The proposals" sunk
Literary Quarrels from Personal Motives. 531
before the "paragraph by paragraph," and no edition of the
Greek Testament by Bentley ever appeared. Bentley's pro-
posals at first had met with the greatest success ; the sub-
scription-money amounted to two thousand pounds, and it
was known that his nephew had been employed by him to
travel abroad to collect these MSS. He declared he would
make use of no MS. that was not a thousand years old, or
above ; of which sort he had collected twenty, so that they
made up a total of twenty thousand years. He was four
years studying them before he issued his proposals. The
Doctor rested most on eight Greek MSS., the most recent of
which was one thousand years old. All this wore a very
imposing appearance. At a touch the whole magnificent
edifice fell to pieces! Middleton says, " His twenty old
MSS. shrhik at once to eight, and he is forced again to own
that even of these eight there are only four which had not
been used by Dr. Mill ;" and these Middleton, by his sarcastic
reasoning, at last reduces to " some pieces only of the New
Testament in MS." So that twenty MSS. and their twenty
thousand years were battered by the " fiddling Conyers" into
a solitary fragment of little value ! Bentley returned the
subscription-money, and would not publish ; the work still lies
in its prepared state, and some good judges of its value have
expressed a hope to see it yet published. But Bentley him-
self was not untainted in this dishonourable quarrel : he well
knew that Middleton was the author of this severe attack ;
but to show his contempt of the real author, and desirous, in
his turn, of venting his disappointment on a Dr. Colbatch,
he chose to attribute it to him, and fell on Colbatch with a
virulence that made the reply perfectly libellous, if it was
Bentley's, as was believed.
The irascibility of Middleton, disguising itself in a literary
form, was still more manifested by a fact recorded of him by
Bishop Newton. He had applied to Sir Robert Walpole for
the mastership of the Charter-house, who honestl}'- informed
him that Bishop Sherlock, with the other Bishops, were
against his being chosen. Middleton attributed the origin of
this opposition to Bishop Sherlock, and wreaked his vengeance
by publishing his " Animadversions upon Sherlock's Discourses
on Prophecy." The book had been long published, and had
passed through successive editions ; but Middleton pretended
he had never seen them before, and from this time Lambeth-
house was a strong provocative for his vindictive temper.
M M 2
533 Quarrels of Authors,
Nor was the other great adversary of Middleton, be wlio SO
Jong affected to be the lord paramount, the Suzerain in the
feudal empire, rather than the republic of letters — Warburton
himself — less easily led on to tliese murderous acts of personal
rancour. A pamphlet of the day has preserved an anecdote
of this kind. Dr. Taylor, the Chancellor of Lincoln, once
threw out in company an opinion derogatory to the scholar-
ship of Warburton, who seems to have had always some choice
.spirits of his legion as spies in the camp of an enemy, and
who sought their tyrant's grace by their violation of the social
/''compact. The tyrant himself had an openness, quite in con-
/ trast with the dark underworks of his satellites. He boldly
I interrogated our critic, and Taylor replied, undauntedly and
j more poignantly than Warburton might have suspected, that
" he did not recollect ever saying that Dr. Warburton was no
scholar, but that indeed he had always thought so." To this
\ intrepid spirit the world owes one of the remarkable prefaces
I to the " Divine Legation " — in which the Chancellor of Lincoln,
] intrepid as he was, stands like a man of straw, to be buffeted
and tossed about with all those arts of distortion which the
I wit and virulence of Warburton almost ever}^ day was prac-
1 tising at his " established places of execution," as his prefaces
and notes have been wittily termed.
Even Warburton himself, who committed so many personal
injuries, has, in his turn, most eminently suffered from the
same motive. The personal animosity of a most ingenious
man was the real cause of the utter destruction of Warbur-
ton's critical reputation. Edwards, the author of the " Canons
of Criticism," when young and in the army, was a visitor at
Allen's of Prior-park, the patron of Warburton ; and in those
literary conversations which usually occupied their evenings,
Warburton affected to show his superiority in his acquaint-
(ance with the Greek writers, never suspecting that a red coat
qovered more Greek than his own — which happened unluckily
to be the case. Once, Edwards in the library, taking down a
Greek author, explained a passage in a manner which did not
suit probably with some new theory of the great inventor of
so many ; a contest arose, in which Edwards discovered how
Warburton came by his illegitimate knowledge of Greek
authors : Edwards attempted to convince him that he really
did not understand Greek, and that his knowledge, such as it
was, was derived from French translations — a provoking act
ol literary kindness, which took place in the presence of Kalph
Literary Quarrels from Personal Motives, 533
Allen and his nieee, who, though they could not stand as
umpires, did as witnesses. An incurable breach took place
l^ween the parties, and from this trifling altercation, Edwards
prodjiced the bitter "Canoris of Criticism," and Warburton
those foaming Dotes in the Dunciad.
S^ich is the implacable nature of literary irascibility ! Men
so tenderly alive to intellectual sensibility, find even the
lightest touch profoundly ent<er into the morbid constitution
of the literary temper; and even minds of a more robust
nature have given proof of a sickly delicacy hanging about
them quite unsuspected, ^m^^ is a remarkable instance of
this kind : the foundation of the character of this great wit
was his excellent sense. Yet having, when young, composed
one of the wild Pindarics of the time, addressed to the Athe-
nian Society, and Dryden judiciously observing that " cousin
Jonathan would never be a poet," the enraged wit, after he
had reached the maturity of his own admirable judgment,
and must have been well aware of the truth of the friendly
prediction, could never forgive it. He has indulged the utmost
licentiousness of personal rancour; he even puns miserably
on his name to degrade him as the emptiest of writers. His
spirited translation of Virgil, which was admired even by Pope,
he levels by the most grotesque sarcastic images to mark
the poet's diminutive genius — he says this version-maker is
so lost in Virgil, that he is like " the lady in a lobster; a mouse
under a canopy of state ; a shrivelled beau within the pent-
house of a full-bottomed perriwig." He never was generous
enough to contradict his opinion, and persisted in it to the
last. Some critic, about Swift's own time, astonished at his
treatment of Dryden, declares he must have been biassed by
some prejudice — the anecdote here recorded, not then pro-
bably known, discovers it.
What happened to Pope on the publication of his Homer
shows all the anxious temper of the author. Being in com-
pany with Bentley, the poet was very desirous of obtauiing
the doctor's opinion of it, which Bentley contrived to parry.
as well as he could; but in these matters an author who calr\
<julate6 on a compliment, will risk everything to obtain it. Thef
question v/as more plainly put, and the answer was as plainly
given. Bentley declared that " the. verses were good verses,
but the work is not Homer — it is Spondanus!" From this
intertiew posterity derives from the mortified poet the full-
534 Quarrels of Authors,
length figure of " the slashing Bentley," in the fourth book
of the Dunciad :
tTlift**igfet.y Seliolia«t,. whose unwearied pains
Jlade Horace dull, and humbled Milton*s strains.
When Bentley was told by some officious friend that Pope
had abused him, he only replied, " Ay, like enough ! I spoke
against his Homer, and the portentous cub never forgives !'*
Part of Pope's severe criticism only is true ; but to give full
effect to their severity, poets always infuse a certain quantity
of fiction. This is an artifice absolutely necessary to practise ;
so 1 collect from a great master in the arts of satire, and who
once honestly avowed that no satire could be composed
unless it was personal ; and no personahties would sufficiently
adorn a poem without lies. This great satirist was Rochester.
Burnet details a curious conversation between himself and his
lordship on this subject. The bishop tells us that " he
would often go into the country, and be for some months
wholly employed in study, or the sallies of his wit chiefly
directed to satire. And this he often defended to me by say-
ing, there were some people that could not be kept in order,
or admonished, but in this way." Burnet remonstrated, and
Eocheeter replied — " A man could not write with life unless
he were heated ly revenge ; for to make a satire without
resentments, upon the cold notions of philosophy, was as if
a man would, in cold blood, cut men's throats who had never
ofl'ended him. And he said, the lies in these libels came often
in as ornaments, that could not be spared without spoiling the
beauty of the poem." It is as useful to know how the
materials of satire are put together ; as thus the secret of
pulling it to pieces more readily may sometimes be obtained.
These facts will sufficiently establish this disgraceful prin-
ciple of the personal motives which have influenced the
quarrels of authors, and which they have only disguised by
giving them a literary form. Those who are conversant in
literary history can tell how many works, and some consider-
able ones, have entirely sprung out of the vengeance of
authors. Johnson, to whom the feelings of the race were so
well known, has made a curious observation, which none but
an author could have made : — " The best advice to authors
would be, that they should keep out of the way of one
another." He says this in the "Life of Eowe," on the*
Literary Quarrels from Personal Motives. 535
occasion of Addison's Observations on E-owe's Charac-
ter. E,owe had expressed his happiness to Pope at Addi-
son's promotion ; and Pope, who wished to conciliate
Addison towards E,o\ve, mentioned it, adding, that he
believed Rowe was sincere. Addison replied, " That he
did not suspect Rowe feigned ; but the levity of his heart is
such, that he is struck ivith any new adventure : and it would
affect him just in the same manner as if he heard I was going
to be hanged." Warburton adds that Pope said he could not
deny but Addison understood Rowe well. Such is the fact
on which Johnson throws out an admirable observation : —
" This censure time has not left us the power of confirming or
refuting ; but observation daily shows that much stress is not
to be laid on hyperbolical accusations and pointed sentences,
which even he that utters them desires to be applauded, rather
than credited. Addison can hardly be supposed to have meant
all that he said. JFew characters can bear the microscopic
scrutiny of wit quickened by angee." I could heap up facts
to demonstrate this severe . truth. Even of Pope's best
friends, some of their severities, if they ever reached him,
must have given the pain he often inflicted. His friend
Atterbury, to whom he was so partial, dropped an expression,
in the heat of conversation, which Pope could never have for-
given ; that our poet had "a crooked mind in a crooked body."
There was a rumour, after Pope's death, that he had left
behind him a satirical "Life of Dean Swift." Let genius,
whose faculty detects the foibles of a brother, remember he is
a rival, and be a generous one. In that extraordinary morsel
of literary history, the " Conversations of Ben Jonson with
his friend Drummond of Hawthornden," preserving his
opinions of his contemporaries, if I err not in my recollection,
I believe that he has not spoken favourably of a single indi-
vidual !
The peisjQnal.matives of an author, influencing his literary
conduct, have induced him to practise .meannesses and subter-
tiJLges. One remarkable instance of this nature is that of Sir
John Hawkins, who indeed had been hardly used by the caustic
pleasantries of George Steevens. Sir John, in his edition of
Johnson, with ingenious malice contrived to suppress the
ackn jwledgment made by Johnson to Steevens of his dili-
gence and sagacity, at the close of his preface to Shakspeare.
To preserve the panegyric of Steevens mortified Hawkins
beyond endurance ; yet, to suppress it openly, his character
536 Quarrels of Authors.
as an editor did not permit. In this dilemma he pretended
he reprinted the preface from the edition of 1765 ; which, as
it appeared before Johnson's acquaintance with Steevens,
could not contain the tender passage. However, this was
unluckily discovered to be only a subterfuge, to get rid of the
offensive panegyric. On examination, it proved not true ;
Hawkins did not reprint from this early edition, but from the
latest, for all the corrections are inserted in his own. " If
Sir John were to be tried at Hicks's Hall (long the seat of
that justice's glory), he would be found guilty of clipping, ^^
archly remarks the periodical ciitic.
A fierce controversial author may become a dangerous
neighbour to another author ; a petulant fellow, who does
not write, may be a pestilent one; but he who prints a book
against us may distm*b our life in endless anxieties. There
was once a dean who actually teased to death his bishop,
wore him out in journeys to London, and at length drained
all his faculties — by a literary quarrel from personal motives.
Dr. Thoma-S Pierce, Dean of Sarum — a perpetual con-
troversialist, and to whom it was dangerous to refuse a re-
cpest, lest it might raise a controversy — wanted a prebend
of Dr. Ward, Bishop of Salisbury, for his son Robert. He
was refused ; and now, studying revenge, he opened a con-
troversy with the bishop, maintaining that the king had the
right of bestowing all dignities in all cathedrals in the king-
dom, and not the bishops. This required a reply from the
bishop, who had been formerly an active controversialist
himself. Dean Pierce renewed his attack with a folio
volume, entitled " A Vindication of the King's Sovereign
Eight, &c.," 1683. — Thus it proceeded, and the web thick-
ened around the bishop in replies and rejoinders. It cost him
many tedious journej^s to London, through bad roads, fretting
at " the King's Sovereign Right" all the way ; and, in the
words of a witness, " in unseasonable times and weather,
that by degrees his spirits were exhausted, his memory quite
gone, and he was totally unfitted for business."* Such was
the fatal disturbance occasioned by Dean Pierce's folio of
" The King's Sovereign Right,'* and his son Bob being left
without a prebend !
I shall close this article with a very ludicrous instance of a
literary quarrel from personal motives. This piece of secret
• Lansdowne MSS. 1042—1316.
Literary Quarrels from Personal Motives. 537
history had been certainly lost, had not Bishop Lowth con-
descended to preserve it, considering it as necessary to assign
a sufficient reason for the extraordinary libel it produced.
Bohun, an antiquarian lawyer, in a work entitled " The
English Lawyer," in 1732, in illustrating the origin of the
Act of Scandalum Magnatum^ which arose in the time of
William of Wykeham, the chancellor and bishop of Edward
III. and the founder of New College, in Oxford ; took that
opportunity of committing the very crime on the venerable
manes of Wykeham himself. He has painted this great man
in the darkest colours. Wykeham is charged with having
introduced " Alice Piers, his niece or," &c., for the truth is
he was uncertain who she was, to use his peculiar language,
"into the king's bosom ;" to have joined her in excluding the
Black Prince from all power in the state ; and he hints at
this hero having been poisoned by them; of Wykeham's em-
bezzling a million of the public money, and, when chancellor,
of forging an Act of Parliament to indemnify himself, and
thus passing his own pardon. It is a singularity in this
libellous romance, that the contrary of all this only is true.
But Bohun has so artfully interwoven his historical patches
of misrepresentations, surmises, and fictions, that he suc-
ceeded in framing an historical libel.
Not satisfied with this vile tissue, in his own obscure
volume, seven years afterwards, being the editor of a work of
high reputation, Nathaniel Bacon's " Historical and Political
Discourse of the Laws and Government of England," he
further satiated his frenzy by contriving to preserve his libel
in a work which he was aware would outlive his own.
Whence all this persevering malignity ? Why this quarrel
of Mr. Bohun, of the Middle Temple, with the long-departed
William of Wykeham ?
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba ?
He took all these obscure pains, and was moved with this
perpetual rancour against William of Wykeham, merely to
mortify the Wykehamists ; and slandered their founder, with
the idea that the odium might be reflected on New College.
Bohun, it seems, had a quarrel with them concerning a lease
on which he had advanced money ; but the holder had con-
trived to assign it to the well-known Eustace Budgell : the
college confirmed the assignment. At an interview before
538 Quarrels of Authors.
the warden, "high words had arisen between the parties : the
warden withdrew, and the wit gradually shoved the antiquary
off the end of the bench on which they were sitting : a blow
was struck, and a cane broken. Bohun brought an action,
and the Wykehamites travelled down to give bail at West-
minster Hall, where the legal quarrel was dropped, and the
literary one then began. Who could have imagined that the
venerable bishop and chancellor of Edward HI. was to be
involved in a wretched squabble about a lease with an anti-
quary and a wit ? " Fancying," says Bishop Lowth, " he
could inflict on the Society of New College a blow which
would affect them more sensibly by wounding the reputation
of their founder, he set himself to collect everything he could
meet with that was capable of being represented to his dis-
credit, and to improve it with new and horrible calumnies of
his own invention." Thus originated this defamatory attack
on the character of William of Wykeham! And by arts
which active writers may practise, and innocent readers can-
not easily suspect, a work of the highest reputation, like that
of Natnaniel Bacon's, may be converted into a vehicle of
personal malignity, while the author himself disguises his
real purpose under the specious appearance of literature!
The present case, it must be acknowledged, is peculiar, where
a dead person was attacked with a spirit of rancour to which
the living only appear subject ; but the author was an anti-
quar}^ who lived as much with the dead as the living : his
personal motive was the same as those already recorded, and
here he was acting with a double force on the dead and the
living !
But here I stop my hand, my hst would else be too com-
plete. Great names are omitted — Whitaker and Gibbon ;*
Pope and Lord Hervey ;t Wood and South ',% I^ovve, Mores,
and Ames ;§ and George Steevens and Gough.||
This chapter is not honourable to authors ; but historians
are only Lord Chief Justices, who must execute the laws,
even on their intimate friends, when standing at the bar.
The chapter is not honourable — but it may be useful ; and
* Gibbon's Miscellaneous Works, vol. i. 243.
+ Walpole's Memoirs, vol. iii. 40.
X The Life of Wood, by Gutch, vol. i.
§ Nichols's Literary Anecdotes.
I II "Curiosities of Literature," vol. iii. p. 303-4.
Literary Quarrels from Personal Motives, 539
that is a quality not less valuable to the public. It lets in
their readers to a kind of knowledge, which opens a necessary
comment on certain works, and enlarges our comprehension of
their spirit.
If in the heat of controversy authors imprudently attack
each other with personalities, they are only scattering mud and
hurling stones, and will incur the ridicule or the contempt of
those who, unfriendly to the literary character, feel a secret
pleasure in its degradation ; but let them learn, that to open a
literary controversy from mere personal motives ; thus to con-
ceal the dagger of private hatred under the mantle of litera-
ture, is an expedient of short duration, for the secret history
is handed down with the book ; and when once the dignity of
the author's character sinks in the meanness of his motives,
powerful as the work may be, even Genius finds its lustre
diminished, and Truth itself becomes suspicious.
INDEX.
*AGB
Adoison, quarrels with Pope .313
disapproves of hia sa-
tire on Dennis . , .315
— — aids a rival version of
Homer 316
■ ■■ " satirized by Pope as
Mticus, n 317
— his nervous fear of cri-
ticism 317
• his last interview with
Pope . . . .318—- 320
quarrels with Steele
on political grounds . .433
hia disbelief in Rowe . 535
Akenside exhibited as a ludi-
crous personage by Smollett ;
his real character cast in the
mould of antiquity, n. . .114
■ severely criticised by
Warburton . . . . 264
AiiDRiCH, Dean, secretly fosters
the attacks on Bentley 378, n. 883
Amhurst, a political author, his
history 11
Arnall, a great political scribe 10
AscHAM, Roger, the founder of
English Prose . . .19
Athene Britannic^, one of
the rarest works, account of, n. 31
Athene Oxonienses, an apo-
logy for 89
Atterbury, Bp., on terrors of
conscience . . . .451
• severe remarks on
Pope 535
AuBRET gives the real reason for
the fears of Hobbes the philo-
sopher, n 452
minutely narrates the
mode in which he composed
his " Leviathan," «. . . 459
Authors by profession, a phrase
of modern origin ... 8
■ original
letter to a Minister from one . f6.
■■ Fielding's
apology for them . . .11
Authors, Horace Walpole af-
fects to despise them . .43
■■■'• ' their maladies . .78
case of, stated . .15
• ■ ■ ■ incompetent remune-
ration of 21
who wrote above the
genius of their own age . .84
ill reception from the
public of their valuable works 85
who have sacrificed
their fortunes to their studies ib.
who commenced their
literary life with ardour, and
found their genius obstructed
by numerous causes . .87
who have never pub-
lished their works
— — ■ — provincial, liable to
bad passions . . . .128
Ayre's Memoirs of Pope.n. 318, 819
Baker and his microscopical
discoveries, n. . .366 — 367
Rev.Thomas, his collec-
tion 93
Balguy, Dr. Thos., n. . .273
Barnes, Joshua, wrote a poem
to prove Solomon was the au-
thor of the " Iliad," and why 97
his pathetic letter de-
scriptive of his literary cala-
mities ib.
hints at the vast num-
ber of his unpublished works 98
Bayle, his use of paradox . 247
■ his theory of appari-
tions, n. . . . .451
Bayne, Alexander, died of in-
tense apphcation . . . 72
Bentley, Dr., his controversy
with Boyle . . . 378, 390
— — — — his haughtiness,
n .37^
his dissertation
on " Phalarig"
380
542
Index,
PAGB
Bentley satirized by Dr. Mid-
dleton 531
BiOGRAPHiA Britannica In
danger of being left unfinished 84
Birkenhead, Sir J., a news-
paper-writer . . . .416
Blackstone investigates the
quarrel between Pope and
Addison 314
BoHUN, his unjustifiable attack
on William of Wykeham . 537
BoLiNGBROKE, his share in
Pope's " Essay on Man," . 256
' ■ quarrel with Pope
321—328
———■^— his " Patriot King"
secretly printed by Pope . 321
— — ^^— his hatred of
Warburton . . 323—328
Booksellers in the reign of
Elizabeth . . . .23
' why their interest
is rarely combined with the
advancement of literature, n. 87
«— — why they prefer
the crude to the matured
fruit . . . .210
Boyle, his controversy with
Bentley .... 378—390
• — his edition of " Pha-
laris" .... 378—381
his literary aids, n. .382
Bramhall opposes Hobbes'
philosophy ....
Brereton, Sir W., characterised
by Clarendon and Cleveland,
n
Brooke attacks errors in Cam-
den's " Britannia" .
" his work unfairly sup-
pressed . . . .
his severe remarks on
Camden
449
418
492
495
ib.
horse
cated
- humorous rhymes on a
- his self-defence .
- his real motives vindi-
- biographical note
Dr., his panegyric on
497
498
499
ib.
Brown,
Warburton, and his sorrow for
writing it, n. .
account of, n.
Brown, Robt., founder of a sect
of Puritans n. . . .
Burnet, Bp., his character at-
tacked 426
235
273
518
PAGB
Burton, his laborious work . 83
his constitutional me-
lancholy, n 182
C-a:sALPiNus, originally the pro-
pounder of a theory of the
circulation of the blood . . 835
Calvin's opinions on govern-
ment, n. . . . .447
Calvin, his narrowed sectarian-
ism 502
Camden recommends Jonson to
Raleigh, n 476
his industry, and his
great work the " Britannia" . 491
Brooke points out its
errors 492
his works suppressed
through Camden's interest . 495
■ his exasperation . ib.
— — — ^ his powerful picture of
calumny .... 496
his quiet adoption of
Brooke's corrections . .499
Campanella and his political
works . . . .351 — 352
Carey, Henry, inventor of
" Namby Pamby" . . . 101
■ " Carey's Wish," a patrio-
tic song on the Freedom of
Election, by the author of
" Grod save the King," n. . 102
" Sally in our Alley," a
popular ballad, its curious
origin 103
author of several of our
national poems . . .104
■ his miserable end . . ib.
Carte, Thomas, his valuable
history .... 110—111
the first proposer
of public libraries . . .111
its fate from his
indiscretion . . . .112
Cartwright, Thomas, chief of
the Puritan faction . .505
progress of his opi-
nions 506
his great popu-
larity ib.
' forsakes his party
508—509
Caryll's voluminous commen-
tary on Job, «. . . . 392
Castell, Dr., ruined in health
and fortune by the publication
of his Polyglott, n. . . . 189
Index.
543
CHARTiES THE SECOND'S jCSt at
the Royal Society, n. . .341
«- '■ an ad-
mirer of Hobbes's ability in
disputation, n. , . .448
Chattekton, his balance-sheet
on the Lord Mayor's death, n. 25
Churchill's satire on Warbur-
ton . . 240, 242, 243, 246
Churchyard, Thomas, an un-
happy poet, describes his
patrons 26
his pa-
thetic description of his
wretched old age . . . ib.
CiBBER, his easy good-nature . 306
his reasonable defence
of himself, n. . . .305—307
.. his " Essay on Cicero," n. 306
apology fur his Life . 207
attacks on himself, 305, 308
■ unjustly degraded . 312
Clarendon, Lord, his prejudice
against May . . .434
I his opinion of
Hobbes's philosophy, n. . . 438
Clergy fight in the great civil
wars, n. .... 422
Cleland, biographical note on 282
Cleveland's character of a jour-
nal-maker . . . .416
Cole, Rev. William, his charac-
ter 90
— his melan-
choly confession on his length-
ened literary hibours
his anxiety
92
how best to dispose of his col-
lections 93
Collins, Arthur, historian of
the Peerage . . .85
Collins, Wm., the poet, quits
the university suddenly with
romantic hopes of becoming
an autlior .... 172
— . publishes his "Odes"
without success, and after-
wards indignantly burns the
edition 180
— . defended from some re-
proaches of irresolution, made
by Johnson ....
anecdote of his life in
the metropolis.
. anecdotes of, when
under the influence of a dis-
ordered intellect
181
182
188
PAGB
Collins, his monument described 184
two sonnets descriptive
of Collins . . . .185
his poetical character
defended 186
Contemporaries, how they seek
to level genius . . . 206
Cooper, author of " Life of
Socrates," attacked by War-
burton, « 272
Cooper, Bishop, attacked by
Mar-Prelates, 7i. . 513,514
Copyrights, Lintot's payments
for .... 328—333
Corbet, his humorous introduc-
tion to Ben Jonson, 7t. . . 475
Cotgrave, Randle, falls blind
in the labour of his " Diction-
ary" 73
Court of Charles II. satirised by
Marvell 393
its charac-
teristics .... 414
Co WEL incurs by his curious work
" The Interpreter " the cen-
sure of the King and the Com-
mons on opposite principles . 193
Cowley, original letter from, n. 36
his essays form a part
of his confessions . . .37
describes his feelings at
court ib.
his melancholy attributed
to his " Ode to Brutus," by
which he incurred the disgrace
of the court . . . .40
his remarkable lamenta-
tion for having written poetry 41
his Epitaph composed by
himself 42
Critic, poetical, without any
taste, how he contrived to criti-
cise poems .... 143
Criticisms, illiberal, some of its
consequences stated . .140
Cross attacks the Royal Society
344—346
Crousaz dissects Pope's " Essay
on Man" .... 256
CuRLL, and his publication of
Pope's letters . . .292
D'AvENANT,his poem of " Gondi-
bert" 404
history of its com-
position, n 404
544
Index,
7AOB
D'AvENANT, its merits and de-
fects . . . 405—408
— — a club of wits sa-
tirize it 409
^— and its author .412
■ and occasion it to be
left unfinished . . .418
Da VIES, Myles, a mendicant au-
thor, his life . . . .30
Decker quarrels with Ben Jon-
son for his arrogance 475 — 487
• ridicules him in his
" Satiromastix" . 4 82 — 487
Dedication, composed by a pa-
tron to himself, n. . . 30
Dedications, used in an ex-
traordinary way, n. . . 30
De Lolme's work on the Consti;
tution could find no patronage,
and the author's bitter com-
plaints 200
■ relieved by the
Literary Fund, n. . . .201
Denham falsely satirized, n. .429
Dennis, John, distinguished as
"The Critic" . . . .52
■ his " Original
Letters " and " Remarks on
Prince Arthur," his best pro-
ductions 52
■■ anecdotes of his
brutal vehemence . . .53
■ ■ curious caricature
of his personal manners . . 54
■'■ a specimen of his
anti-poetical notions, n. . .55
his frenzy on the
Italian Opera . . .57
■ acknowledges that
he is considered as ill-natured,
and complains of public neglect »6.
■ more the victim
of his criticisms than the genius
he insulted , . . .68
- ' his insatiable
vengeance toward Pope . 286
■ his attack on Addison's
"Cato" 315
.-■ his account with the
bookseller Lintot . . .381
Drake, Dr. John, a political
writer, his miserable life . 11
Dravton's national work, •• The
Polyolbion," ill received, and
the author greatly dejected . 210
•— — angry preface ad-
dressed "To any that will read it" 211
PAGS
Dbummond of Hawthomden, his
love of poetry . . . 213
' conversation with
Jonson 475
Dryden, in his old age, com-
plains of dying of over-study 204
his dramatic life a
series of vexations . . . 205
regrets he was bom
among Englishmen . . 206
— ' ' remarkable confession
of the poet .... ib.
vilified by party spirit 427
compares his quarrel
with Settle to that of Jonson
with Decker, n. . . .477
DuNCiAD, Pope's collections for . 278
early editions of, n. .283
■ ' rage of persons sa-
tirized in, n 284
■ satire on naturalists in 342
Dun TON the bookseller satirized
by Swift . . . .430
Dyson defends Akenside . . 265
Eachard's satire on Hobbes and
his sect, n 439
Edwards, Thomas, author of
" Canons of Criticism'' .261
biographical notice.n. 582
anecdotes of his cri-
tical sagacity, n. . 262 — 263
origin of his " Canons
of Criticism" .... 632
Evans, Arise, a fanatical Welsh
prophet, patronised by War-
burton, n 240
Evelyn defends theRoyal Society 340
Exercise, to be substituted for
medicine by literary men, and
which is the best, n. . .68
FAiiSE rumours in the great
Civil War . . . .421
Farneworth's Translation of
Machiavel . . . .84
Fell, Dr., an opponent of the
Royal Society . . .350
'■■ ungenerous to Hobbes 450
• rhymes descriptive of
his unpopularity . . .461
Fielding attacks Sir John Hill,
368—369
Filmer, Sir R., writes to esta-
blish despotism, n. . . . 449
Folkes, Martin, President of the
Royal Society, n. . . .864
Index,
545
PAGB
FoLKES attacked by Sir John
Hill, w 366
FuLLEK's '• Medicina Gymnas-
tica," n 71
Garth, Dr., and his Dispensary 429
Gat acts as mediator with Pope
and Addison . . . .320
— — his account with Lintot the
bookseller . . . .330
Gibbon, Ed., price of his copy-
right 87
GiLDEN supposed by Pope to
have been employed by Addi-
son to write against him .316
Gr.ANviLii a defender of the
Royal Society . . . .344
Glover, Leonidas, declines to
write a Life of Marlborough, n, 325
Goldsmith's remonstrance on
illiberal criticism, from which
the law gives no protection .142
Granger's complaint of not re-
ceiving half the pay of a sca-
venger 85
Greene, Robert, a town wit, his
poverty and death . . .23
■ awful satirical
address to, n. . . .119
Grey, Dr. Zachary, the father of
our commentators, ridiculed
and abused .... 104
■ the probable
origin of his new mode of il-
lustrating Hudibras . . ib.
- Warburton's
double-dealing with him, n. , 259
Guthrie oflFers his services as a
hackney-writer to a minister 8
Hackett executed for attacks
oa the church n. . . .518
Hanmer, Sir T., his edition of
Shakspeare, n. . . 242, n. 258
Hardouin supposes the classics
composed by monks in the
Middle Ages . . .249—252
Harrington and his " Oceana" 449
Harvey, Dr., and his discovery
of the circulation of the blood 335
Harvey, Gabriel, his character 117
m.. his device
against his antagonist, n. .119
. his portrait .121
^ • severely sati-
rised by Nash for his prolix
periods . . . • . 122
FAGB
Harvey, Gabriel, cannot be en-
dured to be considered as the
son ot a rope-maker . .123
■ his pretended
sordid manners . . .124
' his affectation
of Italian fashions . . ib.
his friends ri-
diculed ..... 125
• his pedantic
taste for hexameter verses, &c. 127
his curious re-
monstrance with Nash . .126
his lamenta-
tion on invectives . . .129
his books, and
Nash's, suppressed by order of
the Archbishop of Canterbury
for their mutual virulence . 120
Hawkesworth, Dr., letter on
presenting his MS. of Cook's
Voyages for examination, the
publication of which over-
whelmed his fortitude and
intellect . . . .199
Henley, Orator, this buffoon an
indefatigable student, an ele-
gant poet, and wit . . .59
his poem of
"Esther, Queen of Persia" . 60
' sudden change
in his character . . .62
seems to have
attempted to pull down the
Church and the University
some idea of his
lectures, n 64
his projects to
supply a Universal School . ib.
specimens of his
buffoonery on solemn occasions 66
his " Defence of
the Oratory," n, . . . t6.
once found his
match in two disputants . 67
specimen of the
diary of his " Oratory Trans-
actions" ....
close of his ca-
reer, n. .... 68
his character . 69
■ parallel between
him and Sir John Hill . . 363
Henry, Dr., the Historian, the
sale of his work, on which he
had expended most of his for-
tune and his life, stopped, and
546
Index,
PAGK
himself ridiculed, by a conspi-
racy raised against Iiim . 136
ilENRY, Dr., caustic review of his
history, n ih.
Heron, Robert, draws up the dis-
tresses of a man ot letters living
by literary industry, in the con-
finement of a sponging-house,
from his original letter . . 81
Herrick, Robert, petulant in-
vective against Devonshire . 215
Hill, Aaron, and his quarrel
with Pope . . . , 290
Hill, Sir John . . . 362—396
parallel between
him and Orator Henley . . 383
his great work on
Botany, n ih.
' his personalities . 36i
attacks the Boyal
Society 865
■ \vii Inspector . 367
• war 01 wit with
Fielding . . . .368
and Smart . 370 — 372
■ attacks Wood-
ward, who replies with some
ridiculous anecdotes, n. . . 872
proposes himself
as keeper of the Sloane collec-
tion 374
manufactures
Travels, n 374
— his death . . 375
HoBBES contemns tiie Royal So-
ciety 342
praises D'Avenant's poem
of "Gondibert" . .408—412
* his quarrels . . . 436
pecuharities of his Cha-
racter 437
his sect .... 438
-" — ■■ — his real opinions . . 439
■■'^ his " Leviathan" . 440 — 448
— feared and suspected by
both parties, n. . . . 442
< no atheist, n. . . 445
— his continual disputations
448—450
his terror of death . .451
the real solution of his
fears 452
his disciples in litera-
ture, n 455
— his pride . . . 456
• his mode of composi-
tion, n 459
PA6B
HoBBES his contented poverty,
and consistent conduct . . ib.
characteristics of his writ-
ings 461
his passion for mathe-
matics 464
leads to a quarrel with
Dr. Wallis . . . 465—473
Home and his tragedy of " Dou-
glas" 79
HowEL, nearly lost his life by
excessive study . . .74
Hume, his literary life mortified
with disappointments . . 202
wished to change his name
and his country . . .204
his letter to Des Maiseaux
requesting his opinion of his
philosophy .... 202
HuRD, Bishop, biographical note
on 253
imitates Warburton's
style, n 269
Icon Libellorum. See A thence Bri-
tannicce.
Johnson, Dr, his aversion to*
Milton's politics . . . 425
Jones, Inigo, ridiculed by Ben
Jonson, n 477
JONSON, Ben, his quarrel with
Decker 475
his conversation
with Drummond of Haw-
thornden . . .475, 535
his general con-
viviality, n 475
— — his play "The
Poetaster" . . .476—481
■ his powerful satire
on Decker . . .482—487
■■ • his bitter allu-
sions to his enemies . 487 — 488
Kennet's, Bishop, Kegistei' and
Chronicle . . . .87
Kenrick, Dr., a caustic 'critic,
treats our great authors with
the most amusing arrogance . 141
— an epigratn on
himself, by himself, n. . . 142
King, Dr., his payments as an
author 332
biographical notice of, ». 353
ridicules the Transac-
tions of the Boyal Society 358, 361
Index,
547
PAGE
KiXG, Dr., aids In attacking
Bentley . . . . .384
• his satirical Index to
Bentley '8 Characteristics, n. .386
Lawsom, Dame, a noted female
Puritan, n. . . . 519, 525
Lee, Nat., his love of praise .213
Leland, the antiquary, an ac-
complished scholar . . .172
• " ■ his " Strena," or New
Year's Gift to Henry VIII. ; an
account of his studies, and
his magnificent projects . .174
doubts that his labours
will reach posterity . .175
■ ■- he values "the furni-
ture " of his mind . . . ib.
his bust striking from
its physiognomy . . .177
the ruins of his mind
discovered in his library
the inscription on his
tomb probably had been com-
posed by himself, before his
insanity ..... 178
thoughts on Eloquence 256
Libels abounded in the age of
Elizabeth . . . .503
LiGHTFOoT could not procure the
printing of his work . . 132
LiNTOT's account-book . 328 — 333
LiTEEARV Property, diflaculties
to ascertain its nature . .16
s history of ib.
• value of, n. ib.
Literary quarrels from personal
motives .... 529 — 539
LiiOYD'si Bishop, collections and
their fate . . . .93
Logan, the history of his literary
disappointments . . .78
— — — dies broken-hearted . ib.
his poetic genius . . 80
LowTH, Bishop, attack on preten-
sions of Warburton, n. . 235 — 246
n. 252—268
BI'DoNAiiD, or Matthew Bramble,
his tragical reply to an inquiry
after his tragedy . . .77
Macdiarmid, John, died of over-
study and exhaustion . .74
Mallet, his knowledge of Pope
and Warburton, n. . . .242
his attacks on Warbur-
ton, n 371
PAOB
Mallet employed by Boling-
broke to libel Pope . . ib.
■ anecdote of his egotism 324
employed by the Duchess
of Marlborough on a Life of the
Duke, n. .... 325
M'Mahon and his anti-social phi-»
losophy, n. . . . 456
Marston, John, satirised by Ben
Jonson, n 47T
Martin Mar-Prelate's libels
issuing from a moveable press
carried about the country . 116
a party-
name for satirists of the Church 510
their popularity 513 — 516
their secret printings . 515
opposed by other wits 517
authors of these sa-
tires, n. 505, n. 518 — 520 — 523
curious rhymes against
524—528
Marvell attacks the intolerant
tenets of Bishop Parker . . 892
severity of his satire
on the Court of Charles II., n. 393
comments on the early
career of Parker . .394 — 395
■ origin of quarrel .396
- his noble defence of
Milton 899
his rencontre with Par-
ker in the streets . . 401
his political honesty . 402
his generous criticism
on Butler . . . .434
Maskell, Rev. W., history of
the Mar-Prelate controversy.
503
■i — — date of its origin, and
opinion on its authors, n.
Melancholy persons frequently
the most delightful com-
panions, n
Menassah, Ben Israel, his trea-
tise " De Resurrectione Mortuo-
rum," n
MiCKLE's pathetic address to his
muse
• his disappointments
after the publication of the
" Lusiad" induce him to wish
to abandon his native country 208'
MiDDLETON,Dr. Conyers, quarrel
with Bentley . . , .530
and
with Warburton . . .532
505
182
252
207
548
Index,
\
MiiiTON's works the favourite
prey of booksellers . .17
■ vilified by party
spirit . . . .424—425
Mortimer, Thomas, his com-
plaint in old age of the prefer-
ence given to young adven-
turers 75
MoTTEux, Peter, and his patron 30
MuGHOUSE, political clubs, n. . 32
Nash, Tom, the misery of his
literary life . . . .23
threatens his patrons 24
■ silences Mar- Prelate
with his own weapons . .116
his character as a
Lucianic satirist . . .120
• his " Have with you
to Saffron Walden," a singular
literary invective against Ga-
briel Harvey . . . • 120
Needham, Marchmont, a news-
paper writer in the great
Civil War . . . .420
Newspapers of the great Civil
War .... 415,422
Newton, of a fearful temper in
criticism n 140
Newton's " Optics" first favour-
ably noticed in France . . 84
OcKLEY, Simon, among the first
of our authors who exhibited
a great nation in the East in
his " History of the Saracens" 163
■ his sufferings ex-
pressed in a remarkable pre-
face dated from gaol . .187
dines with the
Earl of Oxford ; an original
letter of apology for his un-
courtly behaviour . . . 189
exults in prison
for the leisure it affords for
study n ib,
neglected, but
employed by ministers . . 196
OiiDMixoN asserts Lord Claren-
don's " History" to have been
interpolated, while himself fal-
sifies Daniel's " Chronicle," n. 10
Palermo, Prince of; and his
Palace of Monsters, n. . . 243
Paper WARS of the Civil
Wars .... 415,422
TAG'S
Parker, Bishop of Oxford, his
early career . , . 394 — 395
the intolerance of his
style 397
attacks Milton . .399
and Marvell in the
streets 401
— — — his posthumous portrait
of Marvell . . . .402
Parr, Dr., his talent and his
egotism, n 236
his defence of War-
burton, n 239
in revenge for Bishop
Hurd's criticism, publishes his
early works of irony . .631
Patin, Guy, . his account of
Hobbes, n 445
Pattison, a young poet, his col-
lege career . . . .98
• • his despair in an ad-
dress to Heaven, and a pathe-
tic letter . . . .101
Penry, one of thewriters of Mar-
Prelate tracts n. 606, n. 518
his career . . . 520
his execution . .621
his petition and protest.n. 621
rhymes on his death . ib.
Phalaris, Epistles of . .378
Phillips asperses Pope . .316
Pierce, Dr. T., his controversies 537
Poets, mediocre Critics are the
real origin of merfjocre . .212
' Nat. Lee describes their
wonderful susceptibility of
praise 213
provincial, their situa-
tion at variance with their feel-
ings 214
Pope, Alex., his opinion of " the
Dangerous Fate of Authors" . 214
the Poet Prior .216
Pope, Alexander, his high esti-
mation of Warburton . 257,273
Warburton 's
edition of his works . 263,270
his miscel-
laneous quarrel . . 278,291
■ collects libels
on himself, «. . . . 278
literary stra-
tagems 280
■ early neglect
of his " Essay on Criticism," «. 280
the real author
of the " Key to the Lock," n. . 280
Index*
549
PAOB
Pope, Alexander, hostilities be-
tween him and others . .282
■ the finest
character-painter, n. . .283
■ his personal
sufferings on Gibber's satire .285
■' his first in-
troduction to Dennis, n. .286
• narrative of
the publication of his letter to
Curll .... 292,300
■ his attacks
on Gibber . . . 301,312
his con-
demned comedy, n. . 301,307
quarrels with
Addison .... 313
urges an
attack on his Cato, n. . .315
believes him
to have employed adverse
critics, n. . . .316 — 317
satirizes Ad-
dison as Atticus, n. . .317
■ his last inter-
view with Addison . 318,320
■ surreptitiously
prints Bolingbroke's " Patriot
King** 321
his book-
selling account with Lintot .329
. his earliest
satire .... 333 — 335
■ his satires
and their effects . . .535
Pkideaux's " Connection of Old
and New Testament" . . 84
Prince's " Worthies of Devon" ib.
Prior, curious character of, from
a Whig satire . . .216
■ felicitated himself that
his natural inclination for
poetry had been checked . 217
■ attacked for his political
creed 429
Proclamation issued by James
I. against Gowel's book, " The
Interpreter," a curious docu-
ment in literary history .195
Prynne, a voluminous author
without judgment, but the cha-
racter of the man not so ridi-
culous as the author . .146
■ his intrepid character 147
— ^— — his curious argument
against being debarred from
pen and ink, n. . . . 148
?A6B
Prynne, his interview with Land
in the Tower, n. . . .149
■ had a good deal of cun-
ning in his character, n. .160
grieved for the Revo-
lution in which he himself had
been so conspicuous a leader . 148
' his speeches as volu-
minous as his writings, n. . 161
seldom dined, n. . 152
account of his famous
" Histriomastix" . . . ib.
Milton admirably cha-
racterises Prynne's absurd
learning, n t6.
how the " Histriomas-
tix" was at once an elaborate
work of many years, and yet a
temporary satire — the secret
history of the book being as
extraordinary as the book it-
self 153
Puritans, origin of their name,
n 504
Raleigh, Sir W., an opposer of
Puritanism, n. . . .508
Reformation, the, under Eliza-
beth 501
Ridicule described . . .114
it creates a fictitious
personage . . . . t6.
a test of truth . 264, 267
RiTSON, Joseph, the late poetical
antiquary, carried criticism to
insanity 51
RiTSON, Isaac, a young Scotch
writer, perishes by attempting
to exist by the efforts of his
pen 75
his extemporary
rhapsody descriptive of his
melancholy fate . . .76
Royal Society, the . . 335, 361
— '• encounters much
opposition when first estab-
lished tb.
RuFFHEAD's Life of Pope . .290
Rush WORTH dies of a broken
heart, having neglected his
own affairs for his " Historical
Collections" . . . .85
Rymer's distress in forming his
" Historical Collections " . 85
Ryves, Eliza, her extraordinary
literary exertions and melan-
choly end .... 107
550
Index,
Sale, the learned, often wanted
a meal while translating the
Koran, « 189
Savage the Poet employed hy
Pope to collect materials for
notes to the DuncicuX, to. . .27 9
Scot, Reginald, persecuted for
his work against Witchcraft . 198
Scott, of Amwell, the Quaker
and poet, offended at being
compared to Capt. Macheath
by the affected witticism of a
Reviewer . . . .143
•■■' his extraordinary " Letter
to the Critical Reviewers," in
which he enumerates his own
poetical beauties . . . ib.
Selden compelled to recant his
opinions, and not suffered to
reply to his calumniators . 198
■ refuses James I. to pub-
lish his defence of the " Sove-
reignty of the Seas" till Gro-
tius provoked his reply . . ib.
opinions on bisliops, n. . 502
Settle, Elkanah, the ludicrous
close of a scribbler's life . . 146
the hero of
Pope's earliest satire . .833
■ ■ ■ manages Pope
burnings , . . .334
Shaftesbury, Lord, on the
origin of irony, n. . . .436
hia character
of Hobbes, n 437
. his conversa-
tion with Hobbes in Paris on
his work, "The Leviathan," n. 441
Shuckford, " Sacred and Pro-
fane History Connected" . 85
Seoane, Sir Hans, his peculiari-
ties of style . . . 358—360
Smart and his satire, " The
Hilliad" . . .371—372
Smoeeett confesses the incre-
dible labour and chagrin he
had endured as an author . 1 3
Socrates ridiculed by Aristo-
phanes 266
SouTH's poignant reflection on
the Royal Society . . .342
Sprat's History of the Royal
Society .... 337—339
■ his aversion to Milton . 424
Steele, his paradoxical charac-
ter 168
satirized by Swift . 429—431
TA.OX
Steele, why he wrote a laugh-
able comedy after his " Chris-
tian Hero" . . . .169
his ill choice in a wife
of an uncongenial character . 170
specimens of his " Love
Despatches," n. . . . ib.
finely contrasts his own
character with that of Addi-
son, TO 172
introduces Pope to Ad-
dison 314
manages a friendly inter-
view between them after a
long disseverance . . .319
his political creed loses him
Addison's friendship . .433
Steevens, G., satirizes Sir John
Hawkins .... 535
Stillingfleet, Bishop, his end
supposed to have been has-
tened by Locke's confutation
of his metaphysical notions, to. 140
Stockdale, Perceval, his cha-
racter an extraordinary in-
stance of the illusions of writers
in verse 218
————— draws a parallel be-
tween Charles XII. and him-
self 224
Stowe, the chronicler, petitions
to be a licensed beggar . .29
Strutt, the antiquary, a man
of genius and imagination . 86
his spirited letters on com-
mencing his career of author-
ship 88
Stuart, Dr. Gilbert, his envious
character ; desirous of destroy-
ing the literary works of his
countrymen . . . .131
projects the " Edinburgh
Magazine and Review ; " its de-
sign t&.
' his horrid feelings ex-
cited by his disappointments . 132
raises a literary con-
spiracy against Dr. Henry . 135
- dies miserably . . 139
Stubbe and his attacks on the
Royal Society. . . .346
his early history . .347
influenced by Dr. Fell in
his attacks, n 350
■ specimens of them . . 356
Systems of Opinions, often fal-
lacies in practice . . .461
Index*
551
PAGE
PuBSCRrPTiONS once inundated
our literature with worthlesa
works 29
Temple, Sir tV., Essay on
Learuing . . . .378
Theobald, his payments from,
and literary arrangements with
Lintot .... 331—332
Tickell's Homer . . .316
ToLAND, a lover of study . . 157
defends himself from
the aspersion of atheism or
deism 150
accused of an intention
to found a sect . . . 159
" had the art of explain-
ing a\A ay his own words . ih.
a great artificer of title-
pages 160
his '• Pantheisticon •' .161
projects a new office of
a private monitor to the
minister 163
of the hooks he read
and his MSS. n. . . . 166
his panegyrical epitaph
composed by himself . .167
— — Locke's admirable fore-
sight of his character . 168
■ the miserable payment
for his life of literary labour . 832
ToNSON, Jacob, bickerings witl«
Dryden, n. . . . . 171
■ his bookselling career ib.
Udall, John, a writer in the Mar-
Prelate controversy to. 505, n. 518
■ ■ his character and
career . , . 621 — 523
"Wagstaffe, Dr., his character
of Steele, n. . . . 429 — 432
, his satirical
works, n. .... 431
Wakefield, Gilbert, his works
imsuccessful because of his poli-
tics, n 435
Wallis, Dr., his curious narra-
tive of a dialogue between
Hobbes and the Countess of
Devonshire, n. . . . 455
his quarrel with
Hobbes . . . 465—473
his power of decipher-
ing secret writing . . .472
PAGB
Wallis, Dr., his real opinion of
Hobbes, n 473
Walpole, Horace, his literary
character . . . .43
instances of
his pointed vivacity against
authors, n 43
why he at-
tacked the fame of Sydney,
and defended Richard III. . 46
his literary
mortifications, acknowledged
by himself from his original
letters 47
" ■ — how Gray
treated him when invited to
Strawberry-hill, n.
extraordi-
46
nary letter of, expressing his
contempt of his most celebrated
contemporaries . . .49
Walsingham, Sir Francis, origi-
nally favours the Puritans,
n 508
Warburton, dishonest criticism
on Gray's " Hudibras" . . 105
and his quar-
rels .... 233—277
his early career . 239
his traffic in dedica-
tions 241
his contemptuous
criticism on Pope and Addison 244
■■ his miscellaneous
reading .... 245, 246
his love of conjecture 247
' — Divine Legation,
n. .... 250, 267
unhappy in his la-
bours, n. .... 252
— — his coarseness of in-
vective n. . . . 224, 268
his contemptuous
criticisms . . . 258, 269
conjectural criticism
on Shakspeare . . .260
' his edition of
Pope . . . 263, 270, 271
—— his literary recruits 274
defendsPope against
Bolingbroke . . . .821
influenced Pope
through his religion n. . .323
his opinion of Hobbes
n 444
offends Edwards in
a contest .... 533
552
Index,
PAGB
"Ward, Dr. Seth, his double opi-
nion of Hobbes* Works n. . 465
"Ward, Dr., his quarrel with Dr.
Pierce 536
Wharton, Henry, sunk under
his historical studies . .74
Whitgift, Archbishop, his con-
troversies with Cartwright the
Puritan, and ultimate friend-
ship with him, n. . . . 509
William of Wykeham attacked
by Bohun . . . .537
Wood, Anthony, his character 94
•— an apology
for the " AthensB Oxonieuses" 92
Wood, Anthony, the writers of
a party whom he abhorred fre-
quently refer to him in their
own favour ....
■ defines Mar-
99
veil's style
392
gives Bishop
Parker's early history
— his prejudice
394
against Lake . . . .423
Woodward the actor attacked
by Hill . . .372, and note
Works, valuable, not completed
from deficient encouragement 84
WoTTON's reflections on learning 878
THB Sirilb>.
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