# Life of Edmond Malone/Maloniana

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London: Smith, Elder & Co., pages 333–339
MALONIANA.
Introductory Notice.
Under the date of 1783, notice has been taken in a previous page of a new occupation by the subject of our memoir—that of taking notes of such incidents not generally known in life, literature, manners, and character as conversation or inquiry should offer. The design was not new; and with the majority of persons popular, having furnished much information and amusement not otherwise attainable; and the “Club,” as well as the general society in which he mingled, promised that it should not be with him unproductive.
Few familiar with London life but would gladly store in recollection portions of what they have heard in its varied society. To many it is at once the most agreeable and popular mode of communicating familiarly what may be otherwise sought in vain. Not that it is of historical, but rather of biographical value. We see and hear men of note talk, or are talked of; yet how rarely are such things retained? How fluent are the majority of speakers present at a metropolitan party! How rare the industry neces​sary to fix their stories on paper and transmit them to future inquirers! New stories and new relators drive their predecessors from recollection. The tale of to-day is forgotten to-morrow. Yet how much wit and wisdom, facts and opinions, incidents that illustrate life, manners and letters, are thus consigned to oblivion almost from the moment of birth! At a London dinner-table are heard things which may not transpire elsewhere. Men and women who form a puzzle to contemporaries as well as to posterity, commonly find some one there to explain what is curious, obscure or anomalous, and thus throw a ray of truth over what was previously error or conjecture. We view them and their associates face to face, not through the haze of rumour or antiquity, their persons—not an unimportant part of the portrait—as well as characters.
I may illustrate this by a celebrated public man of the last century. Lord Chesterfield is familiar to every one. We know his wit, pleasantry, gallantry, letters, intrigues, and libertinisms; and from these if unexpectedly questioned might suppose he was a man of personable or winning exterior. What is the fact as described by his contemporary, Lord Hervey?
“With a person as disagreeable as it was possible for a human figure to be without being deformed, he affected following women of the first beauty, and the most in fashion; and if you would have taken his word for it, not without success . . . . He was very short, disproportioned, thick, and clumsily made; had a broad, rough-featured, ugly face, with black teeth, and a head big enough for a Polyphe​mus.” Such a portrait, pictorial or literary, prefixed to his letters, would have gone far to extinguish all taste for his principles!
And why should not such men and their peculiarities be noted? Yet I have lately heard the practice censured in the very scene of enjoyment—a London dinner-table—by one of our highest authorities in rank and letters. The occasion was a few memoranda in the Memoirs of Thomas Moore. What the poet put down, though now not of the slightest moment, was condemned as breach of confidence and the reserve due to private society. In vain I adduced the example of Boswell—what the world would have lost had he been as idle or indifferent to what was said as his then more celebrated associates. In reply, it was said he was an exception for a purpose—that he was destined for a biographer, and but pursued his calling in amassing materials.
In the Life of Jeffrey it is stated in one of his letters that something similar in character took place at Holland House. The noble owner had assented to notices being made of the chat of the parties in the manner of Boswell. Curiosity or comparison formed the motive—but the emphatic remark is made, “It would not do.” Why, we are not told. Dulness or grossness in such society is not to be supposed. If too much tinctured by party spirit, or secret history, or scandal, or of questionable authenticity, or with disclosures likely to pain or injure the living, those are circumstances wide of the purpose ​in view. We wish to hear what is curious or not commonly known—whatever may amuse or instruct—what men of a certain note in the world say and how they say it; in fact, how eminent actors in the scenes of life exhibit themselves on familiar occasions. Such anecdotes are not history, but they illustrate it. Where the reported party speaks truth and sense, or is simply amusing, he has nothing to fear from the curious reporter. But of such materials, true or false, there is certainly no danger of an abundance. Men are too idle for that. Not one in ten thousand will voluntarily sit down to recapitulate or express upon paper what he has heard verbally the day before, although calculated to strengthen memory, amuse his friends, and enlighten posterity.
Malone was not one of that class. Many judged him to be over-diligent—the gentleman who was rarely to be seen at home without a pen in his hand or a book at his elbow. He found himself associated with the most eminent men of the time; he felt that even their more familiar moments produced something for future information or inquiry; and he was not above the labour of recording such particulars as might throw light upon their own or the previous age. To evince the precision of the narrator even in anecdotes, his authority is usually given.
He commenced the business of noting about May, 1783, and continued it, with occasional intermissions, till the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, in 1792. Sincere grief for that loss, added to active occupation as one of his executors, drew attention away so long ​that it was never resumed with the same spirit as before. Occasionally he took up the pen, but only in short notices, to which other depressing influences no doubt contributed.
They are here transcribed in the order in which the principal collection was written, excepting such portions as appeared to belong more immediately to the order of time in the narrative. Others, gleaned from various manuscript sources, are appended. But many additions may yet be made from detached papers and notes upon books once in his library.
[Notices of Dr. Johnson occur early in the Maloniana, which appear either in preceding pages, or which have been introduced into Boswell. But as nothing relating to such a man should be lost, I replace them here by an original anecdote of interest which has escaped the research of three such indefatigable inquirers as Boswell, Malone, and Croker. The reader is indebted for it to the Honourable Sir George Rose.
[Johnson, it appears, was willing to exchange the air of Bolt Court for that of a suburban palace. He therefore applied for a retreat where several parties of small means and of some public claims turn their eyes with similar expectations of finding a home. He failed—whether with the knowledge of his Majesty is doubtful. The following is the letter of application, and reply:—]
["My Lord,—Being wholly unknown to your lordship, I have only this apology to make for ​presuming to trouble you with a request, that a stranger’s petition, if it cannot be easily granted, can be easily refused.
[“Some of the apartments are now vacant in which I am encouraged to hope that by application to your lordship I may obtain a residence. Such a grant would be considered by me as a great favour; and I hope that to a man who has had the honour of vindicating his Majesty’s Government, a retreat in one of his houses may not be improperly or unworthily allowed.
[“I therefore request that your lordship will be pleased to grant such rooms in Hampton Court as shall seem proper to
“My Lord, “Your lordship’s most obedient, “And most faithful humble servant, "Sam. Johnson.
“April 11, 1776.”
[Indorsed, “Mr. Saml. Johnson to the Earl of Hertford, requesting apartments at Hampton Court. 11th May, 1776.” And within, a memorandum of the answer.
[“Lord C. presents his compliments to Mr. Johnson, and is sorry he cannot obey his commands, having already on his hands many engagements unsatisfied.”
[How this curious incident escaped the prying biographer who would have made so much of it, is difficult to surmise. The presumption is that it was ​withheld from his knowledge by the pride of Johnson, who we find by referring to dates, was in constant communication with him personally at the time. Perhaps Boswell had some private reason for its suppression.
[By his own memoranda, it appears he arrived in London from Scotland, March 15th, 1776; saw Johnson the following day; set out with him on the 19th on an excursion to Oxford, Lichfield, Ashbourne, &c, and returned on the 29th in consequence of the death of Mr. Thrale’s son, which prevented that family proceeding to Italy, whither Johnson was to accompany them. He and Boswell met on the 31st March, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 7th, 10th, 11th, and 12th April, probably oftener; so that they were little apart when the letter was written. About the middle of April, Johnson accompanied the Thrales to Bath. Boswell soon followed. While there they were almost constantly together. On the 4th May, they returned to London; and Boswell occasionally slept at Johnson’s house. On the 7th, 8th, and 9th May, they dined together at the houses of mutual friends. A day or two (15th) afterward, he planned the amusing meeting of Johnson and Wilkes at dinner at Dilly’s on the 15th May; and shortly afterward set out for Scotland. He was therefore in town at the time of Johnson’s application—during all the period of its consideration—and when it was refused.]
Footnotes