Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

Things have now taken a turn unlooked for in those days. The price of most magazines, it is true, is still more than sixpence--usually a shilling, and at that price the _Cornhill_ in some months reached an impression of 120,000; but the circulation of _Good Words_, at sixpence, has touched 180,000, and continues, we believe, to be over 100,000.

* * * * *

MRS. SOUTHEY.

And who was Mrs. Southey?--who but she who was so long known, and so great a favourite, as Caroline Bowles; transformed by the gallantry of the laureate, and the grace of the parson, into her matrimonial appellation. Southey, so long ago as the 21st of February, 1829, prefaced his most amatory poem of _All for Love_, with a tender address, that is now, perhaps, worth reprinting:--

"TO CAROLINE BOWLES.

"Could I look forward to a distant day,
With hope of building some elaborate lay,
Then would I wait till worthier strains of mine,
Might have inscribed thy name, O Caroline!
For I would, while my voice is heard on earth,
Bear witness to thy genius and thy worth.
But we have been both taught to feel with fear,
How frail the tenure of existence here;
What unforeseen calamities prevent,
Alas! how oft, the best resolved intent;
And, therefore, this poor volume I address
To thee, dear friend, and sister poetess!

"_Keswick, Feb. 21, 1829._ "ROBERT SOUTHEY."

The laureate had his wish; for in duty, he was bound to say, that worthier strains than his bore inscribed the name of Caroline connected with his own--and, moreover, she was something more than a dear friend and sister poetess.

"The laureate," observes a writer in _Fraser's Magazine_, "is a fortunate man; his queen supplies him with _butts_ (alluding to the laureateship), and his lady with Bowls: then may his cup of good fortune be overflowing."

* * * * *

DEVOTION TO SCIENCE.

M. Agassiz, the celebrated palæontologist, is known to have relinquished pursuits from which he might have been in the receipt of a considerable income, and all for the sake of science. Dr. Buckland knew him, when engaged in this arduous career, with the revenue of only 100_l._: and of this he paid fifty pounds to artists for drawings, thirty pounds for books, and lived himself on the remaining twenty pounds a year! Thus did he raise himself to an elevated European rank; and, in his abode, _au troisième_, was the companion and friend of princes, ambassadors, and men of the highest rank and talent of every country.

* * * * *

DISADVANTAGEOUS CORRECTION.

Lord North had little reason to congratulate himself when he ventured on an interruption with Burke. In a debate on some economical question, Burke was guilty of a false quantity--"_Magnum vect[)i]gal est parsimonia._" "_Vect[=i]gal_," said the minister, in an audible under-tone. "I thank the noble lord for his correction," resumed the orator, "since it gives me the opportunity of repeating the inestimable adage--"_Magnum vect[=i]gal est parsimonia._" (Parsimony is a great revenue.)

* * * * *

PATRONAGE OF LITERATURE.

When Victor Hugo was an aspirant for the honours of the French Academy, and called on M. Royer Collard to ask his vote, the sturdy veteran professed entire ignorance of his name. "I am the author of _Notre Dame de Paris_, _Les Derniers Jours d'un Condamné_, _Bug-Jargal_, _Marian Delorme_, &c." "I never heard of any of them," said Collard. "Will you do me the honour of accepting a copy of my works?" said Victor Hugo. "I never read new books," was the cutting reply.

* * * * *

DR. JOHNSON'S WIGS.

Dr. Johnson's wigs were in general very shabby, and their fore-parts were burned away by the near approach of the candle, which his short-sightedness rendered necessary in reading. At Streatham, Mr. Thrale's butler always had a wig ready; and as Johnson passed from the drawing-room, when dinner was announced, the servant would remove the ordinary wig, and replace it with the newer one; and this ludicrous ceremony was performed every day.--_Croker._

* * * * *

SHERIDAN'S "PIZARRO."

Mr. Pitt was accustomed to relate very pleasantly an amusing anecdote of a total breach of memory in some Mrs. Lloyd, a lady, or nominal housekeeper, of Kensington Palace. "Being in company," he said, "with Mr. Sheridan, without recollecting him, while _Pizarro_ was the topic of discussion, she said to him, 'And so this fine _Pizarro_ is printed?' 'Yes, so I hear,' said Sherry. 'And did you ever in your life read such stuff?' cried she. 'Why I believe it's bad enough,' quoth Sherry; 'but at least, madam, you must allow it's very loyal.' 'Ah!' cried she, shaking her head--'loyal? you don't know its author as well as I do.'"

* * * * *

DR. JOHNSON IN LONDON.

The following were Dr. Johnson's several places of residence in and near London:--

1. Exeter-street, off Catherine-street, Strand. (1737.)
2. Greenwich. (1737.)
3. Woodstock-street, near Hanover-square. (1737.)
4. Castle-court, Cavendish-square, No. 6. (1738.)
5. Boswell-court.
6. Strand.
7. Strand, again.
8. Bow-street.
9. Holborn.
10. Fetter-lane.
11. Holborn again; at the Golden Anchor, Holborn Bars. (1748.)
12. Gough-square. (1748.)
13. Staple Inn. (1758.)
14. Gray's Inn.
15. Inner Temple-lane, No. 1. (1760.)
16. Johnson's court, Fleet-street, No. 5. (1765.)
17. Bolt-court, Fleet-street, No. 8. (1776.)

* * * * *

REGALITY OF GENIUS.

Gibbon, when speaking of his own genealogy, refers to the fact of Fielding being of the same family as the Earl of Denbigh, who, in common with the Imperial family of Austria, is descended from the celebrated Rodolph, of Hapsburgh. "While the one branch," he says, "have contented themselves with being sheriffs of Leicestershire, and justices of the peace, the others have been emperors of Germany and kings of Spain; but the magnificent romance of _Tom Jones_ will be read with pleasure, when the palace of the Escurial is in ruins, and the Imperial Eagle of Austria is rolling in the dust."

* * * * *

FIELDING'S "TOM JONES."

Fielding having finished the manuscript of _Tom Jones_, and being at the time hard pressed for money took it to a second-rate publisher, with the view of selling it for what it would fetch at the moment. He left it with the trader, and called upon him next day for his decision. The bookseller hesitated, and requested another day for consideration; and at parting, Fielding offered him the MS. for 25_l._

On his way home, Fielding met Thomson, the poet, whom he told of the negotiation for the sale of the MS.; when Thomson, knowing the high merit of the work, conjured him to be off the bargain, and offered to find a better purchaser.

Next morning, Fielding hastened to his appointment, with as much apprehension lest the bookseller should stick to his bargain as he had felt the day before lest he should altogether decline it. To the author's great joy, the ignorant trafficker in literature declined, and returned the MS. to Fielding. He next set off, with a light heart, to his friend Thomson; and the novelist and the poet then went to Andrew Millar, the great publisher of the day. Millar, as was his practice with works of light reading, handed the MS. to his wife, who, having read it, advised him by no means to let it slip through his fingers.

Millar now invited the two friends to meet him at a coffee-house in the Strand, where, after dinner, the bookseller, with great caution, offered Fielding 200_l._ for the MS. The novelist was amazed at the largeness of the offer. "Then, my good sir," said Fielding, recovering himself from his unexpected stroke of good fortune, "give me your hand--the book is yours. And, waiter," continued he, "bring a couple of bottles of your best port."

Before Millar died, he had cleared eighteen thousand pounds by _Tom Jones_, out of which he generously made Fielding various presents, to the amount of 2000_l._; and he closed his life by bequeathing a handsome legacy to each of Fielding's sons.

* * * * *

VOLTAIRE AND FERNEY.

The showman's work is very profitable at the country-house of Voltaire, at Ferney, near Geneva. A Genevese, an excellent calculator, as are all his countrymen, many years ago valued as follows the yearly profit derived by the above functionary from his situation:--

Francs.
8000 busts of Voltaire, made with earth of
Ferney, at a franc a-piece 8,000
1200 autograph letters, at 20 francs 24,000
500 walking canes of Voltaire, at 50 francs each 25,000
300 veritable wigs of Voltaire, at 100 francs 30,000
------
In all 87,000

* * * * *

CLEAN HANDS.

Lord Brougham, during his indefatigable canvass of Yorkshire, in the course of which he often addressed ten or a dozen meetings in a day, thought fit to harangue the electors of Leeds immediately on his arrival, after travelling all night, and without waiting to perform his customary ablutions. "These hands are clean!" cried he, at the conclusion of a diatribe against corruption; but they happened to be very dirty, and this practical contradiction raised a hearty laugh.

* * * * *

MODERATE FLATTERY.

Jasper Mayne says of Master Cartwright, the author of tolerable comedies and poems, printed in 1651:--

"Yes, thou to Nature hadst joined art and skill;
In thee, Ben Jonson still held Shakspeare's quill."

* * * * *

EVERY-DAY LIFE OF JAMES SMITH.

"One of the Authors of the _Rejected Addresses_" thus writes to a friend:[3]--

"Let me enlighten you as to the general disposal of my time. I breakfast at nine, with a mind undisturbed by matters of business; I then write to you, or to some editor, and then read till three o'clock. I then walk to the Union Club, read the journals, hear Lord John Russell deified or _diablerized_, (that word is not a bad coinage,) do the same with Sir Robert Peel or the Duke of Wellington; and then join a knot of conversationists by the fire till six o'clock, consisting of lawyers, merchants, members of Parliament, and gentlemen at large. We then and there discuss the three per cent. consols, (some of us preferring Dutch two-and-a-half per cent.), and speculate upon the probable rise, shape, and cost of the New Exchange. If Lady Harrington happen to drive past our window in her landau, we compare her equipage to the Algerine Ambassador's; and when politics happen to be discussed, rally Whigs, Radicals, and Conservatives alternately, but never seriously,--such subjects having a tendency to create acrimony. At six, the room begins to be deserted; wherefore I adjourn to the dining-room, and gravely looking over the bill of fare, exclaim to the waiter, 'Haunch of mutton and apple tart.' These viands despatched, with the accompanying liquids and water, I mount upward to the library, take a book and my seat in the arm-chair, and read till nine. Then call for a cup of coffee and a biscuit, resuming my book till eleven; afterwards return home to bed. If I have any book here which particularly excites my attention, I place my lamp on a table by my bed-side, and read in bed until twelve. No danger of ignition, my lamp being quite safe, and my curtains moreen. Thus 'ends this strange eventful history,'" &c.

[3] In his Comic Miscellanies.

* * * * *

FRENCH-ENGLISH JEU-DE-MOT.

The celebrated Mrs. Thicknesse undertook to construct a letter, every word of which should be French, yet no Frenchman should be able to read it; while an illiterate Englishman or Englishwoman should decipher it with ease. Here is the specimen of the lady's ingenuity:--

"Pre, dire sistre, comme and se us, and pass the de here if yeux canne, and chat tu my dame, and dine here; and yeux mai go to the faire if yeux plaise; yeux mai have fiche, muttin, porc, buter, foule, hair, fruit, pigeon, olives, sallette, forure diner, and excellent te, cafe, port vin, an liqueurs; and tell ure bette and poll to comme; and Ile go tu the faire and visite the Baron. But if yeux dont comme tu us, Ile go to ure house and se oncle, and se houe he does; for mi dame se he bean ill; but deux comme; mi dire yeux canne ly here yeux nos; if yeux love musique, yeux mai have the harp, lutte, or viol heere. Adieu, mi dire sistre."

* * * * *

RELICS OF IZAAK WALTON.

Flatman's beautiful lines to Walton, (says Mr. Jesse) commencing--

"Happy old man, whose worth all mankind knows
Except himself,"

have always struck us as conveying a true picture of Walton's character, and of the estimation in which he was held after the appearance of his "Angler."

The last male descendant of our "honest father," the Rev. Dr. Herbert Hawes, died in 1839. He very liberally bequeathed the beautiful painting of Walton, by Houseman, to the National Gallery; and it is a curious fact, as showing the estimation in which anything connected with Walton is held in the present day, that the lord of the manor in which Dr. Hawes resided, laid claim to this portrait as a heriot, though not successfully. Dr. Hawes also bequeathed the greater portion of his library to the Dean and Chapter of Salisbury; and his executor and friend presented the celebrated prayer-book, which was Walton's, to Mr. Pickering, the publisher. The watch which belonged to Walton's connexion, the excellent Bishop Ken, has been presented to his amiable biographer, the Rev. W. Lisle Bowles.

Walton died at the house of his son-in-law, Dr. Hawkins, at Winchester. He was buried in Winchester Cathedral, in the south aisle, called Prior Silkstead's Chapel. A large black marble slab is placed over his remains; and, to use the poetical language of Mr. Bowles, "the morning sunshine falls directly on it, reminding the contemplative man of the mornings when he was, for so many years, up and abroad with his angle, on the banks of the neighbouring stream."

* * * * *

PRAISE OF ALE.

Dr. Still, though Bishop of Bath and Wells, seems not to have been over fond of water; for thus he sings:--

"A stoup of ale, then, cannot fail,
To cheer both heart and soul;
It hath a charm, and without harm
Can make a lame man whole.
For he who thinks, and water drinks,
Is never worth a dump:
Then fill your cup, and drink it up,
May he be made a pump."

* * * * *

DANGEROUS FOOLS.

Sydney Smith writes:--If men are to be fools, it were better that they were fools in little matters than in great; dulness, turned up with temerity, is a livery all the worse for the facings; and the most tremendous of all things is a magnanimous dunce.

* * * * *

BULWER'S POMPEIAN DRAWING-ROOM.

In 1841, the author of _Pelham_ lived in Charles-street, Berkeley-square, in a small house, which he fitted up after his own taste; and an odd _melée_ of the classic and the baronial certain of the rooms presented. One of the drawing-rooms, we remember, was in the Elizabethan style, with an imitative oak ceiling, bristled with pendents; and this room opened into another apartment, a fac-simile of a chamber which Bulwer had visited at Pompeii, with vases, candelabra, and other furniture to correspond.

James Smith has left a few notes of his visit here: "Our host," he says, "lighted a perfumed pastile, modelled from Vesuvius. As soon as the cone of the mountain began to blaze, I found myself an inhabitant of the devoted city; and, as Pliny the elder, thus addressed Bulwer, my supposed nephew:--'Our fate is accomplished, nephew! Hand me yonder volume! I shall die as a student in my vocation. Do thou hasten to take refuge on board the fleet at Misenum. Yonder cloud of hot ashes chides thy longer delay. Feel no alarm for me; I shall live in story. The author of _Pelham_ will rescue my name from oblivion.' Pliny the younger made me a low bow, &c." We strongly suspect James of quizzing "our host." He noted, by the way, in the chamber were the busts of Hebe, Laura, Petrarch, Dante, and other worthies; Laura like our Queen.

* * * * *

STERNE'S SERMONS.

Sterne's sermons are, in general, very short, which circumstance gave rise to the following joke at Bull's Library, at Bath:--A footman had been sent by his lady to purchase one of Smallridge's sermons, when, by mistake, he asked for a _small religious_ sermon. The bookseller being puzzled how to reply to his request, a gentleman present suggested, "Give him one of Sterne's."

It has been observed, that if Sterne had never written one line more than his picture of the mournful cottage, towards the conclusion of his fifth sermon, we might cheerfully indulge the devout hope that the recording angel, whom he once invoked, will have blotted out many of his imperfections.

* * * * *

"TOM HILL."

A few days before the close of 1840, London lost one of its choicest spirits, and humanity one of her kindest-hearted sons, in the death of Thomas Hill, Esq.--"Tom Hill," as he was called by all who loved and knew him. His life exemplified one venerable proverb, and disproved another; he was born in May, 1760, and was, consequently, in his 81st year, and "as old as the hills;" having led a long life and a merry one. He was originally a drysalter; but about the year 1810, having sustained a severe loss by a speculation in indigo, he retired upon the remains of his property to chambers in the Adelphi, where he died; his physician remarking to him, "I can do no more for you--I have done all I can. I cannot cure age."

Hill, when in business at the unlettered Queenhithe, found leisure to accumulate a fine collection of books, chiefly old poetry, which afterwards, when misfortune overtook him, was valued at 6000_l._ Hill was likewise a Mæcenas: he patronized two friendless poets, Bloomfield and Kirke White. The _Farmer's Boy_ of the former was read and admired by him in manuscript, and was recommended to a publisher. Hill also established _The Monthly Mirror_, to which Kirke White was a contributor. Hill was the Hull of Hook's _Gilbert Gurney_. He happened to know everything that was going on in all circles; and was at all "private views" of exhibitions. So especially was he favoured, that a wag recorded, when asked whether he had seen the new comet, he replied--"Pooh! pooh! I was present at the private view."

Hill left behind him an assemblage of literary rarities, which it occupied a clear week to sell by auction. Among them was Garrick's cup, formed from the mulberry tree planted by Shakespeare in his garden at New Place, Stratford-upon-Avon; this produced forty guineas. A small vase and pedestal, carved from the same mulberry-tree, and presented to Garrick, was sold with a coloured drawing of it, for ten guineas. And a block of wood, cut from the celebrated willow planted by Pope, at his villa at Twickenham, brought one guinea.

* * * * *

TYCHO BRAHE'S NOSE.

Sir David Brewster relates that in the year 1566, an accident occurred to Tycho Brahe, at Wittenberg, which had nearly deprived him of his life. On the 10th of December, Tycho had a quarrel with a noble countryman, Manderupius Rasbergius, and they parted ill friends. On the 27th of the same month, they met again; and having renewed their quarrel, they agreed to settle their differences by the sword. They accordingly met at seven o'clock in the evening of the 29th, and fought in total darkness. In this blind combat, Manderupius cut off the whole of the front of Tycho's nose, and it was fortunate for astronomy that his more valuable organs were defended by so faithful an outpost. The quarrel, which is said to have originated in a difference of opinion respecting their mathematical attainments, terminated here; and Tycho repaired his loss by cementing upon his face a nose of gold and silver, which is said to have formed a good imitation of the original. Thus, Tycho was, indeed, a "Martyr of Science."

* * * * *

FOOTE'S WOODEN LEG.

George Colman, the younger, notes:--"There is no Shakspeare or Roscius upon record who, like Foote, supported a theatre for a series of years by his own acting, in his own writings; and for ten years of the time, upon a wooden leg! This prop to his person I once saw standing by his bedside, ready dressed in a handsome silk stocking, with a polished shoe and gold buckle, awaiting the owner's getting up: it had a kind of tragic, comical appearance, and I leave to inveterate wags the ingenuity of punning upon a Foote in bed, and a leg out of it. The proxy for a limb thus decorated, though ludicrous, is too strong a reminder of amputation to be very laughable. His undressed supporter was the common wooden stick, which was not a little injurious to a well-kept pleasure-ground. I remember following him after a shower of rain, upon a nicely rolled terrace, in which he stumped a deep round hole at every other step he took, till it appeared as if the gardener had been there with his dibble, preparing, against all horticultural practice, to plant a long row of cabbages in a gravel walk."

* * * * *

RIVAL REMEMBRANCE.

_Mr. Gifford to Mr. Hazlitt._

"What we read from your pen, we remember no more."

_Mr. Hazlitt to Mr. Gifford._

"What we read from your pen, we remember before."

* * * * *

WHO WROTE "JUNIUS'S LETTERS"?

This question has not yet been satisfactorily answered. In 1812, Dr. Mason Good, in an essay he wrote on the question, passed in review all the persons who had then been suspected of writing these celebrated letters. They are, Charles Lloyd and John Roberts, originally treasury clerks; Samuel Dyer, a learned man, and a friend of Burke and Johnson; William Gerard Hamilton, familiarly known as "Single-speech Hamilton;" Mr. Burke; Dr. Butler, late Bishop of Hereford; the Rev. Philip Rosenhagen; Major-General Lee, who went over to the Americans, and took an active part in their contest with the mother-country; John Wilkes; Hugh Macaulay Boyd; John Dunning, Lord Ashburton; Henry Flood; and Lord George Sackville.

Since this date, in 1813, John Roche published an Inquiry, in which he persuaded himself that Burke was the author. In the same year there appeared three other publications on Junius: these were, the Attempt of the Rev. J. B. Blakeway, to trace them to John Horne Tooke; next were the "Facts" of Thomas Girdlestone, M.D., to prove that General Lee was the author; and, thirdly, a work put forth by Mrs. Olivia Wilmot Serres, in the following confident terms:--"Life of the Author of _Junius's Letters_,--the Rev. J. Wilmot, D.D., Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford;" and, like most bold attempts, this work attracted some notice and discussion.

In 1815, the Letters were attributed to Richard Glover, the poet of _Leonidas_; and this improbable idea was followed by another, assigning the authorship of the Letters to the Duke of Portland, in 1816. In the same year appeared "Arguments and Facts," to show that John Louis de Lolme, author of the famous Essay on the Constitution of England, was the writer of these anonymous epistles. In 1816, too, appeared Mr. John Taylor's "Junius Identified," advocating the claims of Sir Philip Francis so successfully that the question was generally considered to be settled. Mr. Taylor's opinion was supported by Edward Dubois, Esq., formerly the confidential friend and private secretary of Sir Philip, who, in common with Lady Francis, constantly entertained the conviction that his deceased patron was identical with Junius.

In 1817, George Chalmers, F.S.A., advocated the pretensions of Hugh Macaulay Boyd to the authorship of Junius. In 1825, Mr. George Coventry maintained with great ability that Lord George Sackville was Junius; and two writers in America adopted this theory.

Thus was the whole question re-opened; and, in 1828, Mr. E. H. Barker, of Thetford, refuted the claims of Lord George Sackville and Sir Philip Francis, and advocated those of Charles Lloyd, private secretary to the Hon. George Grenville.[4]

In 1841, Mr. N. W. Simons, of the British Museum, refuted the supposition that Sir Philip Francis was directly or indirectly concerned in the writing; and, in the same year, appeared M. Jaques's review of the controversy, in which he arrived at the conclusion that Lord George Sackville composed the Letters, and that Sir Philip Francis was his amanuensis, thus combining the theory of Mr. Taylor with that of Mr. Coventry.

The question was reviewed and revived in a volume published by Mr. Britton, F.S.A., in June 1848, entitled "The Authorship of the Letters of Junius Elucidated;" in which is advocated with great care the opinion that the Letters were, to a certain extent, the joint productions of Lieut.-Colonel Isaac Barré, M.P., Lord Shelburne, (afterwards Marquess of Lansdowne,) and Dunning, Lord Ashburton. Of these three persons the late Sir Francis Baring commissioned Sir Joshua Reynolds, in 1784-5, to paint portraits in one picture, which is regarded as evidence of joint authorship.

Only a week before his death, 1804, the Marquess of Lansdowne was personally appealed to on the subject of _Junius_, by Sir Richard Phillips. In conversation, the Marquess said, "No, no, I am not equal to _Junius_; I could not be the author; but the grounds of secrecy are now so far removed by death (Dunning and Barré were at that time dead), and change of circumstances, that it is unnecessary the author of _Junius_ should much longer be unknown. The world is curious about him, and I could make a very interesting publication on the subject. I knew Junius, and _I know all about_ the writing and production of these Letters." The Marquess added, "If I live over the summer, which, however, I don't expect, I promise you a very interesting pamphlet about Junius. I will put my name to it; I will set the question at rest for ever." The death of the Marquess, however, occurred in a week. In a letter to the _Monthly Magazine_, July 1813, the son of the Marquess of Lansdowne says:--"It is not impossible my father may have been acquainted with the fact; but perhaps he was under some obligation to secrecy, as he never made any communication to me on the subject."

Lord Mahon (now Earl Stanhope) at length and with minuteness enters, in his History, into a vindication of the claims of Sir Philip Francis, grounding his partisanship on the close similarity of handwriting established by careful comparison of facsimiles; the likeness of the style of Sir Philip's speeches in Parliament to that of _Junius_--biting, pithy, full of antithesis and invective; the tenderness and bitterness displayed by _Junius_ towards persons to whom Sir Philip stood well or ill affected; the correspondence of the dates of the letters with those of certain movements of Sir Philip; and the evidence of _Junius_' close acquaintance with the War Office, where Sir Philip held a post. It seems generally agreed that the weight of proof is on the side of Sir Philip Francis; but there will always be found adherents of other names--as O'Connell, in the following passage, of Burke:--

"It is my decided opinion," said O'Connell, "that Edmund Burke
was the author of the 'Letters of Junius.' There are many
considerations which compel me to form that opinion. Burke was the
only man who made that figure in the world which the author of
'Junius' _must_ have made, if engaged in public life; and the
entire of 'Junius's Letters' evinces that close acquaintance with
the springs of political machinery which no man could possess
unless actively engaged in politics. Again, Burke was fond of
chemical similes; now chemical similes are frequent in Junius.
Again; Burke was an Irishman; now Junius, speaking of the
Government of Ireland, twice calls it 'the Castle,' a familiar
phrase amongst Irish politicians, but one which an Englishman,
in those days, would never have used. Again; Burke had this
peculiarity in writing, that he often wrote many words without
taking the pen from the paper. The very same peculiarity existed
in the manuscripts of Junius, although they were written in a
feigned hand. Again; it may be said that the style is not Burke's.
In reply, I would say that Burke was master of many styles. His
work on natural society, in imitation of Lord Bolingbroke, is as
different in point of style from his work on the French Revolution,
as _both_ are from the 'Letters of Junius.' Again; Junius speaks
of the King's insanity as a divine visitation; Burke said the very
same thing in the House of Commons. Again; had any one of the
other men to whom the 'Letters' are, with any show of probability,
ascribed, been really the author, such author would have had no
reason for disowning the book, or remaining incognito. Any one of
them but Burke would have claimed the authorship and fame--and
proud fame. But Burke had a very cogent reason for remaining
incognito. In claiming Junius he would have claimed his own
condemnation and dishonour, for Burke died a pensioner. Burke
was, moreover, the only pensioner who had the commanding talent
displayed in the writings of Junius. Now, when I lay all these
considerations together, and especially when I reflect that a
cogent reason exists for Burke's silence as to his own authorship,
I confess I think I have got a presumptive proof of the very
strongest nature, that Burke was the writer."[5]

[4] Supported by the following note, written by Dr. Parr, in his copy of "The Letters of Junius:"--"The writer of 'Junius' was Mr. Lloyd, secretary to George Grenville, and brother to Philip Lloyd, Dean of Norwich. This will one day or other be generally acknowledged.--S. P."

[5] Personal Recollections of the late Daniel O'Connell, M.P. By William J. O'N. Daunt.

* * * * *

LITERARY COFFEE-HOUSES IN THE LAST CENTURY.

Three of the most celebrated resorts of the _literati_ of the last century were _Will's Coffee-house_, No. 23, on the north side of Great Russell-street, Covent Garden, at the end of Bow-street. This was the favourite resort of Dryden, who had here his own chair, in winter by the fireside, in summer in the balcony: the company met in the first floor, and there smoked; and the young beaux and wits were sometimes honoured with a pinch out of Dryden's snuff-box. Will's was the resort of men of genius till 1710: it was subsequently occupied by a perfumer.

_Tom's_, No. 17, Great Russell-street, had nearly 700 subscribers, at a guinea a-head, from 1764 to 1768, and had its card, conversation, and coffee-rooms, where assembled Dr. Johnson, Carrick, Murphy, Goldsmith, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Foote, and other men of talent: the tables and books of the club were not many years since preserved in the house, the first floor of which was then occupied by Mr. Webster, the medallist.

_Button's_, "over against" Tom's, was the receiving-house for contributions to _The Guardian_, in a lion-head box, the aperture for which remains in the wall to mark the place. Button had been servant to Lady Warwick, whom Addison married; and the house was frequented by Pope, Steele, Swift, Arbuthnot, and Addison. The lion's head for a letter-box, "the best head in England," was set up in imitation of the celebrated lion at Venice: it was removed from Button's to the Shakspeare's Head, under the arcade in Covent Garden; and in 1751, was placed in the Bedford, next door. This lion's head is now treasured as a relic by the Bedford family.

* * * * *

LORD BYRON AND "MY GRANDMOTHER'S REVIEW."

At the close of the first canto of _Don Juan_, its noble author, by way of propitiating the reader for the morality of his poem, says:--

"The public approbation I expect,
And beg they'll take my word about the moral,
Which I with their amusement will connect,
As children cutting teeth receive a coral;
Meantime, they'll doubtless please to recollect
My epical pretensions to the laurel;
For fear some prudish reader should grow skittish,
I've bribed my Grandmother's Review--the British.

I sent it in a letter to the editor,
Who thank'd me duly by return of post--
I'm for a handsome article his creditor;
Yet if my gentle muse he please to roast,
And break a promise after having made it her,
Denying the receipt of what it cost,
And smear his page with gall instead of honey,
All I can say is--that he had the money."

_Canto I. st._ ccix. ccx.

Now, "the British" was a certain staid and grave high-church review, the editor of which received the poet's imputation of bribery as a serious accusation; and, accordingly, in his next number after the publication of _Don Juan_, there appeared a postscript, in which the receipt of any bribe was stoutly denied, and the idea of such connivance altogether repudiated; the editor adding that he should continue to exercise his own judgment as to the merits of Lord Byron, as he had hitherto done in every instance! However, the affair was too ludicrous to be at once altogether dropped; and, so long as the prudish publication was in existence, it enjoyed the _sobriquet_ of "My Grandmother's Review."

By the way, there is another hoax connected with this poem. One day an old gentleman gravely inquired of a printseller for a portrait of "Admiral Noah"--to illustrate _Don Juan_!

* * * * *

WALPOLE'S WAY TO WIN THEM.

Sir Robert Walpole, in one of his letters, thus describes the relations of a skilful Minister with an accommodating Parliament--the description, it may be said, having, by lapse of time, acquired the merit of general inapplicability to the present state of things:--"My dear friend, there is scarcely a member whose purse I do not know to a sixpence, and whose very soul almost I could not purchase at the offer. The reason former Ministers have been deceived in this matter is evident--they never considered the temper of the people they had to deal with. I have known a minister so weak as to offer an avaricious old rascal a star and garter, and attempt to bribe a young rogue, who set no value upon money, with a lucrative employment. I pursue methods as opposite as the poles, and therefore my administration has been attended with a different effect." "Patriots," elsewhere says Walpole, "spring up like mushrooms. I could raise fifty of them within four-and-twenty hours. I have raised many of them in one night. It is but refusing to gratify an unreasonable or insolent demand, and _up starts a patriot_."

* * * * *

DR. JOHNSON'S CRITICISMS.

Johnson decided literary questions like a lawyer, not like a legislator. He never examined foundations where a point was already ruled. His whole code of criticism rested on pure assumption, for which he sometimes gave a precedent or authority, but rarely troubled himself to give a reason drawn from the nature of things. He judged of all works of the imagination by the standard established among his own contemporaries. Though he allowed Homer to have been a greater man than Virgil, he seems to have thought the Æneid to have been a greater poem than the Iliad. Indeed, he well might have thought so; for he preferred Pope's _Iliad_ to Homer's. He pronounced that after Hoole's translation of _Tasso_, Fairfax's would hardly be reprinted. He could see no merit in our fine old English ballads, and always spoke with the most provoking contempt of Dr. Percy's fondness for them.

Of all the great original works which appeared during his time, Richardson's novels alone excited his admiration. He could see little or no merit in _Tom Jones_, in _Gulliver's Travels_, or in _Tristram Shandy_. To Thomson's _Castle of Indolence_ he vouchsafed only a line of cold commendation--of commendation much colder than what he has bestowed on _The Creation_ of that portentous bore, Sir Richard Blackmore. Gray was, in his dialect, a barren rascal. Churchill was a blockhead. The contempt which he felt for Macpherson was, indeed, just; but it was, we suspect, just by by chance. He criticized Pope's epitaphs excellently. But his observations on Shakspeare's plays, and Milton's poems, seem to us as wretched as if they had been written by Rymer himself, whom we take to have been the worst critic that ever lived.

* * * * *

GIBBON'S HOUSE, AT LAUSANNE

The house of Gibbon, in which he completed his "Decline and Fall," is in the lower part of the town of Lausanne, behind the church of St. Francis, and on the right of the road leading down to Ouchy. Both the house and the garden have been much changed. The wall of the Hotel Gibbon occupies the site of his summer-house, and the _berceau_ walk has been destroyed to make room for the garden of the hotel; but the terrace looking over the lake, and a few acacias, remain.

Gibbon's record of the completion of his great labour is very impressive. "It was on the day, or rather the night, of the 27th of June, 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last line of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a _berceau_, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waves, and all nature was silent."

At a little inn at Morges, about two miles distant from Lausanne, Lord Byron wrote the _Prisoner of Chillon_, in the short space of _two days_, during which he was detained here by bad weather, June 1816: "thus adding one more deathless association to the already immortalized localities of the Lake."

* * * * *

ORIGIN OF "BOZ." (DICKENS.)

A fellow passenger with Mr. Dickens in the _Britannia_ steam-ship, across the Atlantic, inquired of the author the origin of his signature, "Boz." Mr. Dickens replied that he had a little brother who resembled so much the Moses in the _Vicar of Wakefield_, that he used to call him Moses also; but a younger girl, who could not then articulate plainly, was in the habit of calling him Bozie or Boz. This simple circumstance made him assume that name in the first article he risked to the public, and therefore he continued the name, as the first effort was approved of.

* * * * *

BOSWELL'S "LIFE OF JOHNSON."

Sir John Malcolm once asked Warren Hastings, who was a contemporary and companion of Dr. Johnson and Boswell, what was his real estimation of Boswell's _Life of Johnson_? "Sir," replied Hastings, "it is the _dirtiest_ book in my library;" then proceeding, he added: "I knew Boswell intimately; and I well remember, when his book first made its appearance, Boswell was so full of it, that he could neither think nor talk of anything else; so much so, that meeting Lord Thurlow hurrying through Parliament-street to get to the House of Lords, where an important debate was expected, for which he was already too late, Boswell had the temerity to stop and accost him with "Have you read my book?" "Yes," replied Lord Thurlow, with one of his strongest curses, "every word of it; I could not help it."

* * * * *

PATRONAGE OF AUTHORS.

In the reigns of William III., of Anne, and of George I., even such men as Congreve and Addison could scarcely have been able to live like gentlemen by the mere sale of their writings. But the deficiency of the natural demand for literature was, at the close of the seventeenth, and at the beginning of the eighteenth century, more than made up by the artificial encouragement--by a vast system of bounties and premiums. There was, perhaps, never a time at which the rewards of literary merit were so splendid--at which men who could write well found such easy admittance into the most distinguished society, and to the highest honours of the state. The chiefs of both the great parties into which the kingdom was divided, patronized literature with emulous munificence.

Congreve, when he had scarcely attained his majority, was rewarded for his first comedy with places which made him independent for life. Rowe was not only poet laureate, but land-surveyor of the Customs in the port of London, clerk of the council to the Prince of Wales, and secretary of the Presentations to the Lord Chancellor. Hughes was secretary to the Commissioners of the Peace. Ambrose Phillips was judge of the Prerogative Court in Ireland. Locke was Commissioner of Appeals and of the Board of Trade. Newton was Master of the Mint. Stepney and Prior were employed in embassies of high dignity and importance. Gay, who commenced life as apprentice to a silk-mercer, became a secretary of Legation at five-and-twenty. It was to a poem on the death of Charles II., and to "the City and Country Mouse," that Montague owed his introduction into public life, his earldom, his garter, and his auditorship of the Exchequer. Swift, but for the unconquerable prejudice of the queen, would have been a bishop. Oxford, with his white staff in his hand, passed through the crowd of his suitors to welcome Parnell, when that ingenious writer deserted the Whigs. Steele was a Commissioner of Stamps, and a member of Parliament. Arthur Mainwaring was a Commissioner of the Customs, and Auditor of the Imprest. Tickell was secretary to the Lords Justices of Ireland. Addison was Secretary of State.

But soon after the succession of the throne of Hanover, a change took place. The supreme power passed to a man who cared little for poetry or eloquence. Walpole paid little attention to books, and felt little respect for authors. One of the coarse jokes of his friend, Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, was far more pleasing to him than Thomson's _Seasons_ or Richardson's _Pamela_.

* * * * *

LEARNING FRENCH.

When Brummell was obliged by want of money, and debt, and all that, to retire to France, he knew no French; and having obtained a grammar for the purpose of study, his friend Scrope Davies was asked what progress Brummell had made in French. He responded, that Brummell had been stopped, like Buonaparte in Russia, by the _Elements_.

"I have put this pun into _Beppo_, (says Lord Byron), which is a fair exchange and no robbery, for Scrope made his fortune at several dinners, (as he owned himself,) by repeating occasionally, as his own, some of the buffooneries with which I had encountered him in the morning."

* * * * *

JOHNSON'S CLUB-ROOM.

In a paper in the _Edinburgh Review_, we find this cabinet picture:--The club-room is before us, and the table, on which stands the omelet for Nugent, and the lemons for Johnson. There are assembled those heads which live for ever on the canvas of Reynolds. There are the spectacles of Burke, and the tall thin form of Langton; the courtly sneer of Beauclerc, and the beaming smile of Garrick; Gibbon tapping his snuff-box, and Sir Joshua with his trumpet in his ear. In the foreground is that strange figure which is as familiar to us as the figures of those among whom we have been brought up--the gigantic body, the huge massy face, seamed with the scars of disease; the brown coat, the black worsted stockings, the grey wig, with the scorched foretop; the dirty hands, the nails bitten and pared to the quick. We see the eyes and nose moving with convulsive twitches; we see the heavy form rolling; we hear it puffing; and then comes the "Why, sir!" and the "What then, sir?" and the "No, sir!" and the "You don't see your way through the question, sir!"

* * * * *

DR. CHALMERS'S INDUSTRY.

In October, 1841, Dr. Chalmers commenced two series of biblical compositions, which he continued with unbroken regularity till the day of his decease, May 31, 1847. Go where he might, however he might be engaged, each week-day had its few verses read, thought over, written upon--forming what he denominated "Horæ Biblicæ Quotidianæ:" each Sabbath-day had its two chapters, one in the Old and the other in the New Testament, with the two trains of meditative devotion recorded to which the reading of them respectively gave birth--forming what he denominated "Horæ Biblicæ Sabbaticæ." When absent from home, or when the manuscript books in which they were ordinarily inserted were not beside him, he wrote in short-hand, carefully entering what was thus written in the larger volumes afterwards. Not a trace of haste nor of the extreme pressure from without, to which he was so often subjected, is exhibited in the handwriting of these volumes. There are but few words omitted--scarcely any erased. This singular correctness was a general characteristic of his compositions. His lectures on the Epistle to the Romans were written _currente calamo_, in Glasgow, during the most hurried and overburthened period of his life. And when, many years afterwards, they were given out to be copied for the press, scarcely a blot, or an erasure, or a correction, was to be found in them, and they were printed off exactly as they had originally been written.

In preparing the "Horæ Biblicæ Quotidianæ," Chalmers had by his side, for use and reference, the "Concordance," the "Pictorial Bible," "Poole's Synopsis," "Henry's Commentary," and "Robinson's Researches in Palestine." These constituted what he called his "Biblical Library." "There," said he to a friend, pointing, as he spoke, to the above-named volumes, as they lay together on his library-table, with a volume of the "Quotidianæ," in which he had just been writing, lying open beside them,--"There are the books I use--all that is Biblical is there. I have to do with nothing besides in my Biblical study." To the consultation of these few volumes he throughout restricted himself.

The whole of the MSS. were purchased, after Dr. Chalmers's death, for a large sum of money, by Mr. Thomas Constable, of Edinburgh, her Majesty's printer; and were in due time given to, and most favourably received by, the public.

* * * * *

LATEST OF DR. JOHNSON'S CONTEMPORARIES.[6]

In the autumn of 1831, died the Rev. Dr. Shaw, at Chesley, Somersetshire, at the age of eighty-three: he is said to have been the last surviving friend of Dr. Johnson.

On the 16th of January, in the above year, died Mr. Richard Clark, chamberlain of the City of London, in the ninety-second year of his age. At the age of fifteen, he was introduced by Sir John Hawkins to Johnson, whose friendship he enjoyed to the last year of the Doctor's life. He attended Johnson's evening parties at the Mitre Tavern, in Fleet-street;[7] where, among other literary characters he met Dr. Percy, Dr. Goldsmith, and Dr. Hawksworth. A substantial supper was served at eight o'clock; the party seldom separated till a late hour; and Mr. Clark recollected that early one morning he, with another of the party, accompanied the Doctor to his house, where Mrs. Williams, then blind, made tea for them. When Mr. Clark was sheriff, he took Johnson to a "Judges' Dinner," at the Old Bailey; the judges being Blackstone and Eyre. Mr. Clark often visited the Doctor, and met him at dinner-parties; and the last time he enjoyed his company was at the Essex Head Club, of which, by the Doctor's invitation, Clark became a member.

[6] See, also, an ensuing page, 120.

[7] Johnson, by the way, had a strange nervous feeling, which made him uneasy if he had not touched every post between the Mitre Tavern and his own lodgings.

* * * * *

A SNAIL DINNER.

The chemical philosophers, Dr. Black and Dr. Hutton, were particular friends, though there was something extremely opposite in their external appearance and manner. Dr. Black spoke with the English pronunciation, and with punctilious accuracy of expression, both in point of matter and manner. The geologist, Dr. Hutton, was the very reverse of this: his conversation was conducted in broad phrases, expressed with a broad Scotch accent, which often heightened the humour of what he said.

It chanced that the two Doctors had held some discourse together upon the folly of abstaining from feeding on the testaceous creatures of the land, while those of the sea were considered as delicacies. Wherefore not eat snails? they are known to be nutritious and wholesome, and even sanative in some cases. The epicures of old praised them among the richest delicacies, and the Italians still esteem them. In short, it was determined that a gastronomic experiment should be made at the expense of the snails. The snails were procured, dieted for a time, and then stewed for the benefit of the two philosophers, who had either invited no guests to their banquet, or found none who relished in prospect the _pièce de resistance_. A huge dish of snails was placed before them: still, philosophers are but men, after all; and the stomachs of both doctors began to revolt against the experiment. Nevertheless, if they looked with disgust on the snails, they retained their awe for each other, so that each, conceiving the symptoms of internal revolt peculiar to himself, began, with infinite exertion, to swallow, in very small quantities, the mess which he internally loathed.

Dr. Black, at length, showed the white feather, but in a very delicate manner, as if to sound the opinion of his messmate. "Doctor," he said, in his precise and quiet manner--"Doctor--do you not think that they taste a little--a very little, green?" "D----d green! d----d green! indeed--tak' them awa',--tak' them awa'!" vociferated Dr. Hutton, starting up from table, and giving full vent to his feelings of abhorrence. So ended all hopes of introducing snails into the modern _cuisine_; and thus philosophy can no more cure a nausea than honour can set a broken limb.--_Sir Walter Scott._

* * * * *

CURRAN'S IMAGINATION.

"Curran!" (says Lord Byron) "Curran's the man who struck me most. Such imagination!--there never was anything like it that I ever heard of. His _published_ life--his published speeches, give you no idea of the man--none at all. He was a _machine_ of imagination, as some one said that Prior was an epigrammatic machine." Upon another occasion, Byron said, "the riches of Curran's Irish imagination were exhaustless. I have heard that man speak more poetry than I have ever seen written--though I saw him seldom, and but occasionally. I saw him presented to Madame de Stael, at Mackintosh's--it was the grand confluence between the Rhone and the Saone; they were both so d----d ugly, that I could not help wondering how the best intellects of France and Ireland could have taken up respectively such residences."

* * * * *

COWLEY AT CHERTSEY.

The poet Cowley died at the Porch House, Chertsey, on the 21st of July, 1667. There is a curious letter preserved of his condition when he removed here from Barn Elms. It is addressed to Dr. Sprat, dated Chertsey, 21 May, 1665, and is as follows:--

"The first night that I came hither I caught so great a cold, with
a defluxion of rheum, as made me keep my chamber ten days. And,
too, after had such a bruise on my ribs with a fall, that I am yet
unable to move or turn myself in bed. This is my personal fortune
here to begin with. And besides, I can get no money from my tenants,
and have my meadows eaten up every night by cattle put in by my
neighbours. What this signifies, or may come to in time, God knows!
if it be ominous, it can end in nothing but hanging."----"I do hope
to recover my hurt so farre within five or six days (though it be
uncertain yet whether I shall ever recover it) as to walk about
again. And then, methinks, you and I and _the Dean_ might be very
merry upon St. Ann's Hill. You might very conveniently come hither
by way of Hampton Town, lying there one night. I write this in
pain, and can say no more.--_Verbum sapienti._"

It is stated, by Sprat, that the last illness of Cowley was owing to his having taken cold through staying too long among his labourers in the meadows; but, in Spence's _Anecdotes_ we are informed, (on the authority of Pope,) that "his death was occasioned by a mere accident whilst his great friend, Dean Sprat, was with him on a visit at Chertsey. They had been together to see a neighbour of Cowley's, who, (according to the fashion of those times,) made them too welcome. They did not set out for their walk home till it was too late; and had drank so deep that they lay out in the fields all night. This gave Cowley the fever that carried him off. The parish still talk of the drunken Dean."

* * * * *

A PRETTY COMPLIMENT.

Although Dr. Johnson had (or professed to have) a profound and unjustified contempt for actors, he succeeded in comporting himself towards Mrs. Siddons with great politeness; and once, when she called to see him at Bolt Court, and his servant Frank could not immediately furnish her with a chair, the doctor said, "You see, madam, that wherever you go there are _no seats to be got_."

* * * * *

THOMAS DAY, AND HIS MODEL WIFE.