# Life of Edmond Malone/Chapter 8

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London: Smith, Elder & Co., pages 157–183
CHAPTER VIII.
1789—1791.
Amid much good society, to which there are several contemporary allusions, added to a long visit to his brother and sisters in Hertfordshire, he was pushing on Shakspeare. He had destined the work for an earlier birth; but time will leave the most diligent labourer behind.
Even friendship conspired to increase the delay. Boswell was equally busy upon the life of Johnson; and having the strongest faith in the judgment of Malone, claimed his assistance not only in contributions to notes and text, but in revision of the whole work. This rather serious tax upon attention was met in his usual spirit of active good-will. His notes to that work form ample evidence of the interest in it which he felt; and there were introduced numberless suggestions which do not publicly appear. But the private acknowledgments of the biographer display pretty strongly the extent of his obligations. On the 10th of January 1789, he writes to his chosen friend the Rev. Mr. Temple:
Whenever I have completed the rough draft, by which I mean the work without nice correction, Malone and I are to prepare one-half perfectly, and then it goes to press, where I hope to have it early in February so as to be out by the end of May. I do not believe that Malone’s Shakspeare will be much before me. His brother, Lord Sunderlin, with his lady and two sisters, came home from a long tour on the Continent in summer last, and took a country-house about twenty miles from town for six months. Malone lived with them; so his labour was much intermitted.
July 3, 1789.
I may perhaps come to you in autumn if Malone goes to Ireland, so that the revising of Johnson’s Life cannot proceed till winter.
October 13–14, 1789.
Malone, who obligingly revises my Life of Johnson, is to go to Ireland when his Shakspeare is published, which will be about Christmas. I am therefore to get as much of his time as may be while he remains, as he may not return from Ireland till the summer. Yesterday afternoon, Malone and I revised and made ready for the press thirty pages of Johnson’s Life. He is much pleased with it; but I feel a sad indifference, and he says I have not the use of my faculties.
How often is it that gloomy anticipations of failure come over authors during the progress of the most successful works! Often, on the other hand, what lively expectations of success where utter disappointment awaits the writer!
November 28, 1789.
My apology for not coming to you as I fully intended and wished, is really a sufficient one; for the revision of my Life of Johnson, by so acute and knowing a critic as Mr. Malone, is of most essential consequence, especially as he is Johnsonianissimus; and as he is to hasten to Ireland as soon as his Shakspeare is fairly published, I must avail myself of him now. His hospitality and my other invitations, and particu​larly my attendance at Lord Lonsdale, have lost us many evenings. . . . . The week before last I indulged myself by giving one dinner. I had Wilkes, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Flood, the Irish orator, Malone, Courtenay, Governor Penn, grandson of old William, who brought over the petition from Congress which was so obstinately and unwisely rejected; and my brother David. We had a very good day. Would I were able to give many such dinners! Malone gives them without number. Last Sunday I dined with him, with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Metcalf, Mr. Windham, Mr. Courtenay, and some of Johnson’s friends, to settle as to effectual measures for having a monument erected to him in Westminster Abbey.
A few other acknowledgments appear early in the following year.
February 8, 1790.
It is better that I am still here; for I am within a short walk of Mr. Malone, who revises my Life of Johnson. . . . . 13th.—I drink with Lord Lonsdale one day, the next I am quiet in Malone’s elegant study, revising my Life of Johnson, of which I have high expectations, both as to fame and profit. . . . .
July 21, 1790.
Though my mind felt very sick, I soon felt relief in London. I dined that day quietly with Malone. On Sunday I was at St. George’s Church, Hanover Square, and dined again with Malone.
An evening’s walk home after dinner with an intelligent companion furnished the subject of this work with the following anecdotes of Dr. Johnson:—
“Baretti, with whom I dined at Mr. Courtenay’s (Sunday, April 5, 1789,) mentioned two extraordinary instances of Dr. Johnson’s wonderful memory. Baretti had once proposed to teach him Italian. They went over a few stanzas of Ariosto’s Orlando ​Inamorato, and Johnson then grew weary. Some years afterwards, Baretti reminded him of his promise to study Italian, and said he would give him another lesson; but added, I suppose you have forgot what we read before. ‘Who forgets, sir?’ said Johnson, and immediately repeated three or four stanzas of the poem. Baretti was astonished, and took an opportunity before he went away of privately taking down the book to see if it had been recently opened; but the leaves were entirely covered with dust.
“The other instance was as remarkable. Dr. James had picked up on a stall a book of Greek hymns. The author’s name I forget. He brought it to Johnson as a curiosity, who ran his eyes over the pages and returned it. A year or two afterwards, he dined at Sir Joshua Beynolds’s, where also Dr. Musgrave, the editor of Euripides, happened to be. Musgrave made a great parade of his Greek learning, and among other less known writers, mentioned the hymns of ———, which he thought none of the company were acquainted with, and extolled them highly. Johnson said the first of them was indeed very fine, and immediately repeated it. It consisted of ten or twelve lines.
“When Johnson had finished his Rasselas, Baretti happened to call on him. He said he had just finished a romance—that he had no money, and pressingly required some to take to his mother who was ill at Lichfield. He therefore requested Baretti to go to Dodsley the bookseller, and say he wished to see him. When he came, Johnson asked what he would give for his romance. The only question was what number of sheets it would make. On examining it, he said ​he would give him 100l. Johnson was perfectly contented, but insisted on part of the money being paid immediately, and accordingly received 70l. Any other person with the degree of reputation he then possessed would have got 400l. for that work, but he never understood the art of making the most of his productions.
“Baretti made a translation of Rasselas into French, which is I believe in print. He never, however, could satisfy himself with the translation of the first sentence, which is uncommonly lofty. Mentioning this to Johnson, the latter said after thinking two or three minutes, ‘Well, take up the pen, and if you can understand my pronunciation, I will see what I can do.’ He then dictated the sentence to the translator, which proved admirable, and was immediately adopted.
“Baretti used sometimes to walk with him through the streets at night, and occasionally entered into conversation with the unfortunate women who frequent them, for the sake of hearing their stories. It was from a history of one of these, which a girl told under a tree in the King’s Bench Walk in the Temple to Baretti and Johnson, that he formed the story of Misella in the Rambler.”
The introduction by Burke to the occupier of Hillbarn, procured an invitation for Malone to revisit it, and run over again more at leisure those objects, chiefly portraits and books, which had been the property of the poet.
“Saturday, July 3rd, 1789.—I went to Hill-barn near Beaconsfield, the seat of Waller the poet, and ​spent two days with Mr. Blair, its temporary possessor. The house was built by Waller himself, but there have been considerable additions. Mr. Waller, the present owner, is a young man, the sixth I believe from the poet; and being straitened in circumstances, the estate being now not more than about 1,500l. per annum and much encumbered, has let this house and domain for three years to enable him to pay debts of his father’s to some amount, which, however, he is not under any legal obligation to pay, but means to discharge from a sense of honour.
“There are here two original pictures of the poet, one when he was twenty-three, painted I think by Cornelius Jansen. That in Lord Chesterfield’s collection appears to have been a copy from this. I have never seen it, but the print made of it by Bell (engraved by Cooke) has no resemblance to the picture at Hill-barn, though the dress shows that it was done from some copy of that picture. The other was painted in his old age; and I should have supposed it the portrait from which Vertue engraved his half sheet print, and also that for the quarto edition of Waller’s works, but that Vertue’s band is plain, and that in the picture just mentioned is laced. In all other respects the print and picture correspond, except that I think the character of the face is not so nicely preserved in Vertue’s print as it might be.
“I may say the same of the print which has been just now engraved by Sharpe from a portrait of Henry, Lord Southampton, for my edition Shakspeare: in which though it is tolerably faithful, the character of the face is not so nicely preserved ​as I could have wished. If Sacharissa was not handsomer than the portrait which is shown for her at Hill-barn, she was not worth half the verses bestowed upon her.
“There is a very good library here, partly consisting of the poet’s collection, which has been greatly increased by his successors. I found his name written in many of the books. As he is said to have formed his versification on Fairfax’s Tasso, I was curious to examine it. But it contained not a single remark in the margin, nor even his name. It was the second edition of 1624, it was remarkably clean, and had no appearance of being much read.
“In the first leaf of the Duchess of Newcastle’s Philosophical and Physical Opinions, folio 1663, he has written these lines which describe her book very truly:—
“In his Chaucer, folio, 1560:—
“Sidney’s Arcadia one should suppose would have been read by him at an early period of life; but he does not appear to have read it till he was near seventy; for in the title-page of his copy, which is in folio, printed by Ponsonby in 1613, he has written ‘Ed. Waller, 10s. 1674.’ In the title-page of his copy of Sir William Davenant’s works, I found ‘Edw. Waller, 01l. 00s., 1673,’ which I mention only as it ascertains the price of the book.
​“The first folio edition of Shakspeare was probably sold for the same price. This was not in the library, nor any ancient edition but that of 1685, which was bound in three volumes. His name was not in it. Waller died in 1687. Is it possible that he did not possess a copy of Shakspeare’s Plays till two years before his death? His Ovid by Sandys contained nothing; but in Sandys’ version of the Psalms he has written Ex dono Authoris.
“I was surprised to find that a very thick volume of quarto tracts, which contained a great number of detached speeches made in Parliament in 1642 and 1643 and printed on single sheets, did not contain Wallers own speech in his defence when his plot was discovered.”
An application made to Kemble for some theatrical information, and the acknowledgment of the actor for some literary attentions from the critic, produced a characteristic letter from the former while absent from London on one of his summer campaigns:—
Liverpool, July 7th, 1789.
Mr dear Sir,—Your letter found me confined to bed by a pleurisy, and utterly incapable of moving. This is the eleventh day of my illness; but, thank God, I am on the mending hand, and hope to be on horseback to-morrow. I wrote to Mr. Westley, the treasurer of Drury Lane Theatre, by this post, and shall mention your desire very particularly. I have inclosed a line to him here; he lives in Charlotte Street, Bedford Square just behind me; I don’t know the number of it, but his name is on the door; and nine in the morning or four in the afternoon is the likeliest time to find him within.
I am very much obliged to you for having thought ​of the manuscripts for me; and am sorry to think I should leave town without a valedictory gripe of your hand; but Mr. Sheridan had me in waiting from one at noon till almost one the next morning, and as I was obliged to be in my chaise by four, prevented my making my last compliments to all my other friends. We did a good deal of business at last, however, and I passed a very agreeable day. We should have had a very triumphant season but for my unfortunate illness which has prevented our acting our most attractive plays—Macbeth, Othello, Hamlet, &c. Huzza! Shakspeare for ever!
Pray give my compliments to Jephson; and believe me your obliged and faithful servant,
J. P. Kemble.
Lord Charlemont, as usual, pursues his friend for acquisitions in poetry, the drama, and criticism, with that zeal which is so pleasant to witness in one who, though but an amateur, gives his hours to the pursuit.
He writes for a title-page for Turberville’s poems in Malone’s hand-writing from the want of one in print; for one of Shirley’s plays, in which his set is deficient; for a volume of Green’s works; and a second copy of the plays attributed to Shakspeare. “I wish to have them, as I do everything that bore that sacred name. . . . My MS. plays are all of them written in different hands, and from many interlineations and corrections, are likely to be the original copies. I believe Lady Mob has been mistaken for Lady Moth. The mistake however is not ​mine, but that of some former proprietor, who has given in the first page an imperfect list of the plays.”
In 1790 little appears of his correspondence, and nothing in the Anecdote Journal. Shakspeare occupied close attention; and eight years’ gestation had brought it to the verge of birth. “When I first undertook to give an edition of his works,” he says in a pamphlet written soon afterwards, “it did not appear to me so arduous a work as I found it.” Very few but the experienced, calculate the time or the labour necessary to a book, of which research and conflicting opinions form the distinguishing features. It had been long expected by the host of Shakspearians who flutter in the press either as admirers of the poet, or rivals of every new editor. His friends occasionally gave hints of their expectations; and we may readily believe that he was willing enough to take rest for a time from a labour, the ramifications of which on relative points had extended far beyond his original conceptions.
Toward the end of the year (November) appeared The plays and Poems of William Shakspeare in Ten Volumes. In fact there were eleven; the first being divided into two parts for the introduction of preliminary matter necessary to the comprehensive view taken of all the bearings of the subject.
The preface occupied above seventy pages; followed by that of Dr. Johnson; Steevens' Advertisement; ancient translations from classic authors, chiefly by Steevens; Pope’s preface; dedication and preface of Heminge and Condell; Rowe’s life of Shakspeare augmented by the Editor; anecdotes of ​Shakspeare from Oldys’ MS.; Shakspeare’s will; mortgage made by him in 1612-13; commendatory verses on Shakspeare by writers of more or less eminence; ancient editions of his plays and poems; detached criticisms upon him; entries upon the books of the Stationers’ Company, chiefly by Steevens; essay by the editor on the chronology of the plays, with additions; a paper on Shakspeare, Ford, and Ben Jonson. In the second part of the first volume is a historical account of the English stage, occupying above three hundred pages, to which Burke and critics of every class have rendered high praise. It exhibits the most active and persevering research.
Little need be said here of a work so long before the public. Beyond doubt it formed the best and fullest edition which had appeared; and as the desire for improvement did not cease with publication, the additions made and the reproduction of the work in twenty-one volumes by the younger Boswell in 1822, ensured it a place on the book-shelves of all reading men.
The amount of research was at once apparent. Most known sources of information had been diligently explored. We cannot open a page without being impressed by the sifting and winnowing of authorities,—the variety, extent, minuteness of his reading,—which left little doubt on the mind of the reader, that if accuracy were attainable, he had exerted every means within reach to attain it. Not but that an ample field of doubt still remained, and will remain, open upon various points, in which a dramatic antiquary might disport himself at pleasure. Any ​argument may be maintained when nearly all the lighthouses and landmarks of facts have been swept away by time.
Released from the duties of the press, he sought relaxation in a long-promised visit to Ireland. Relatives and old acquaintance equally vied in dispensing the national hospitality to one who, viewed by some as an idle wanderer, had returned the possessor of no inconsiderable fame.
From England likewise followed warm approval of his labours by devoted Shakspearians. Among these were Warton, Farmer, Bishop Percy, and many others. While men of more general celebrity, like Burke, Windham, Reynolds, Sir William Scott, Courtenay, and a few more, gave testimony which might almost have made a reputation. With the public he was no less successful. In fifteen months a large edition was nearly sold. So unequivocal was the encouragement, that for those who objected to the rather unsatisfactory nature of the paper and type, he was induced to offer proposals for another edition in fifteen royal quarto volumes, of which we have an intimation in a pamphlet published soon afterward. But it was never executed.
​The adoption of the particular paper and type were the results of ill advice; for his great labours were gratuitous. They taxed not only the eyes of others but his own, the object being to accommodate the masses, who sought the greatest quantity of matter within the most moderate compass. Taste was thus sacrificed to partial convenience. “His sight,” said Boaden, “had never been very good; and unfortunately to keep the works of Shakspeare within any reasonable limits, he had in the year 1790 done the greatest possible injury to his eyes by selecting types both for text and notes for his edition painful and distressing to the great majority of readers.”
The letter of approval by Burke is too characteristic of the master not to find place here:
(No date.)
My dear Sir,—Upon coming to my new habitation in town, I found your valuable work upon my table. I take it as a very good earnest of the instruction and pleasure which may be yet reserved for my declining years. Though I have had many little arrangements to make both of a public and private nature, my occupations were not able to overrule my curiosity, nor to prevent me from going through almost the whole of your able, exact, and interesting history of the stage.
A history of the stage is no trivial thing to those who wish to study human nature in all shapes and positions. It is of all things the most instructive to see not only the reflection of manners and characters at several periods, but the modes of making their reflection, and the manner of adapting it at those periods to the taste and disposition of mankind. The stage indeed may be considered as the republic of active literature, and its history as the history of that state. The great events of political history when not combined with the ​same helps towards the study of the manners and characters of men, must be a study of an inferior nature.
You have taken infinite pains, and pursued your inquiries with great sagacity, not only in this respect, but in such of your notes as hitherto I have been able to peruse. You have earned your repose by public spirited labour. But I cannot help hoping that when you have given yourself the relaxation which you will find necessary to your health, if you are not called to exert your great talents, and employ your great acquisitions in the transitory service to your country which is done in active life, you will continue to do that permanent service which it receives from the labours of those who know how to make the silence of their closets more beneficial to the world than all the noise and bustle of courts, senates, and camps.
I beg leave to send you a pamphlet which I have lately published. It is of an edition more correct I think, than any of the first; and rendered more clear in points where I thought, in looking over again what I had written, there was some obscurity. Pray do not think my not having done this more early was owing to neglect or oblivion, or from any want of the highest and most sincere respect to you; but the truth is (and I have no doubt you will believe me) that it was a point of delicacy which prevented me from doing myself that honour. I well knew that the publication of your Shakspeare was hourly expected; and I thought if I had sent that small donum, the fruit of a few weeks, I might have subjected myself to the suspicion of a little Diomedean policy, in drawing from you a return of the value of a hundred cows for my nine. But you have led the way, and have sent me gold, which I can only repay you in my brass. But pray admit it on your shelves; and you will show yourself generous in your acceptance as well as your gift. Pray present my best respects to Lord and Lady Sunderlin, and to Miss Malone. I am, with the most sincere affection and gratitude,
My dear Sir,
Your most faithful and obliged humble servant,
Edmund Burke.
​During the latter part of 1790 and beginning of the following year, Boswell wrote several letters to Malone on their respective topics—Shakspeare and Johnson. He was full of his forthcoming book, of anxiety, hypochondriacism, and pecuniary difficulties. The critic formed a most friendly depository for his thoughts; and these letters give us curious revelations of his hopes, doubts, social meetings, and involvements at the time, though it is only necessary to notice here such as relate to our immediate subject. After a round of dinners and sobriety, as he describes—
And now for my friend. The appearance of Malone’s Shakspeare, on the 29th November, was not attended with any external noise; but I suppose no publication seized more speedily and surely on the attention of those for whose critical taste it was chiefly intended. At the Club, on Tuesday, where I met Sir Joshua, Dr. Warren, Lord Ossory, Lord Palmerston, Windham, and Burke in the chair, Burke was so full of his anti-French Revolution rage, and poured it out so copiously, that we had almost nothing else. He, however, found time to praise the clearness and accuracy of your dramatic history; and Windham found fault with you for not taking the profits of so laborious a work. Sir Joshua is pleased, though he would gladly have seen more disquisition—you understand me! Mr. Daines Barrington is exceedingly gratified. He regrets that there should be a dryness between you and Steevens, as you have treated him with great respect. I understand that, in a short time, there will not be one of your books to be had for love or money.
Three days afterwards, he writes—
I dined last Saturday at Sir Joshua’s, with Mr. Burke, his lady, son, and niece, Lord Palmerston, Windham, Dr. Law​rence, Dr. Blagden, Dr. Burney, Sir Abraham Hume, Sir William Scott. I sat next to young Burke at dinner, who said you had paid his father a fine compliment. I mentioned Johnson, to sound if there was any objection. He made none. In the evening, Burke told me he had read your Henry VI. with all its accompaniments, and it was “exceedingly well done.” He left us for some time; I suppose on some of his cursed politics; but he returned. I at him again, and heard from his lips what, believe me, I delighted to hear, and took care to write down soon after:—“I have read his History of the Stage, which is a very capital piece of criticism and anti-agrarianism. I shall now read all Shakspeare through, in a very different manner from what I have yet done, when I have got such a commentator.” Will not this do for you, my friend? Burke was admirable company all that day. He never once, I think, mentioned the French Revolution, and was easy with me, as in days of old.
In January he is in great straits for money, but tells Malone it is no hint, as he is aware he cannot assist him. Of another obligation, he says, “Your absence is a woeful want in all respects. You will, I dare say, perceive a difference in the part which is revised only by myself, and in which many insertions will appear.”
Toward the end of the month, he writes again in a melancholy tone, and apologizes for it. “But your vigour of mind and warmth of heart make your friendship of such consequence, that it is drawn upon like a bank.” He adds the history of a purchase of old family property, and is quite destitute of money to pay for it—is at his wit’s end—asks whether he would ​recommend him to accept of one thousand pounds which had been offered for Johnson’s Life?—adding, “Your absence has been a severe stroke to me. I am at present quite at a loss what to do. . . . . As I pass your door I cast many a longing look. . . . . I shall be very anxious till I hear from you.”
In February, two more letters dwell upon his embarrassments, his book, and the Club. Has purchased part of a lottery-ticket for Malone and his sisters—also one for himself, which fancy at one moment conjured into a prize. Asks his friend whether he will join with him in a bond for one thousand pounds, which he must pay in May; but it is added that a refusal will not in the least interfere with their friendship.
March furnishes two letters on similar subjects: the disposal of the book forms a sad puzzle. Did Robinson positively propose one thousand pounds for it, or only supposed that sum was its worth? Tells how his “inexplicable disorder” (depression of mind) had for a time taken a turn. Solicits his friend as to various particulars in the title-page of the forthcoming work—what should be said and what omitted?
Such are the labours, the doubts, the anxieties of an unhappy author! But Boswell lived to receive the honours which were his due, even if he did not share so fully as he had a right to expect in the reward which should belong to the author.
While in Ireland, the following reached Malone from Sir Joshua Reynolds. It appears to have been written under the influence of a very unnecessary fit ​of humility, as if an erroneous construction were liable to be put upon the civilities of a man of his character and eminence:—
London, March 8th, 1791.
My dear Sir,—It requires some apology to expect you to distribute the enclosed books. I believe the persons to whom they are directed are all your friends. I am sorry to hear Lord Charlemont has been unwell, which gives real concern to all that know him. I am afraid to express my particular esteem and affection, as it would have an air of impertinent familiarity and equality; and, for another reason, shall say nothing regarding yourself for fear of the suspicion of being a toad-eater—a character for which we gentlemen about town have great abhorrence, and are apt to run too much on the other side in order to avoid it. However, I will venture to say thus much, that you are every day found wanting, and wished for back. And by nobody more than your very sincere friend and humble servant,
J. Reynolds.
To-day is Shrove-Tuesday, and no Johnson. I beg my most respectful compliments to Lord Sunderlin.
The allusion to the great moralist may imply that they had been accustomed to meet on that day, or, perhaps, to the slow advancement of his monument. Differences of opinion on that subject had arisen among the committee—namely, Burke, Sir Joshua Banks, Windham, Metcalfe, Boswell, and Malone—duly communicated to the latter while in Dublin. The site, Westminster Abbey, was to be relinquished for St. Paul’s, which, as he expressed it, was too modern—too cold and raw to lie in comfortably, but in a century or two hence, would look more habitable!
​Doubts also occurred as to the nature of the memorial among the general body of the Literary Club. Some, our critic writes to a friend, were for a picture in mosaic, some for a bust, some for a statue, some for neither, but for emblematical figures. The objection to a full-length arose from the supposed uncouth formation of Johnson’s limbs. But Sir Joshua maintained that to be a mistake. He had paid attention to the members in question; and far from being unsightly, he deemed them well formed.
Dublin, Baronston, his brother’s seat in Meath, Shinglass, his own property, and visits to the south of Ireland to recall old friendships or lay the foundation of new, formed his chief resorts. In the capital, meetings of the Royal Irish Academy were duly attended with Lord Charlemont. There, some new acquaintances were also found—men learned but unobtrusive, who as retiring as their studies, often require to be dug out of their recesses in a capital, on certain public occasions, rather than found in ordinary scenes of resort. One of these was Mr. Andrew Caldwell, and a few others whose names are defaced or torn away from their letters.
Malone, it appears, had caught the general distaste of the Johnsonian circle towards Mrs. Piozzi for throwing off her celebrated inmate after the death of Mr. Thrale. The marriage with her music-master, and something like literary rivalry afterwards with Boswell, added to the main offence. Occasionally we even still hear of the circumstances in a tone of reproach. Yet it is difficult to conceive how she could have done otherwise to one who, with no other tie ​than that of friend, had become not only in familiar phrase, but almost in fact, while resident in her house, her “master.”
Excellent in every solid quality of man, Johnson was not a guest for every house. He had not, and probably could not be, schooled into system. Conformity to usual domestic arrangements is a condition exacted by most ladies from those who aim to be agreeable inmates. With this he could rarely comply. He had no method at home, and found it difficult to accede to one abroad. His hours were late; his temper often irritable, sometimes rude, to host and hostess as well as to visitors; his remarks sharp or sarcastic upon trifles, so as frequently to give offence; yet borne with exemplary forbearance. His reproofs, as stated in her Anecdotes, evince their genuine origin. There is no mistaking the master. Like a spoiled child, he was permitted to have his way, and impunity occasionally made him offensive. Yet she is not censorious. Liberal allowance is made for all his infirmities; every virtue to which humanity can pretend is allowed him; and she congratulates herself, “with Mr. Thrale’s assistance, to have saved from distress at least, if not from worse, a mind great beyond the comprehension of common mortals, and good beyond all hope of imitation from perishable beings.”
No praise can exceed this. Yet there may have been substantial reasons for not selecting him—if the idea ever existed—as partner for life. If a woman is at any time permitted to have a will of her own, surely it may be conceded when she is of ​mature age and a widow. But such seems not to have heen the idea among Johnson’s friends, even in a matter so purely personal. Our Critic becomes positively peevish, if not ill-natured in his notes upon the Anecdotes. Her economy, rather ill-judged perhaps upon one occasion, increased this irritation. Mr. Cator of the Adelphi, who as guardian of the daughters was interested in the affairs of the family, wrote to Mrs. Piozzi in Italy in 1785, that for Dr. Johnson’s monument two guineas only would be accepted from subscribers; and that sum he had paid for her and for each of her daughters. Proving however insufficient for the object, further aid became necessary, and Malone writes: “The committee for the monument of Dr. Johnson applied, among others, to Mrs. Piozzi. She had gained 500l. by this book (Anecdotes) and 600l. by publishing his letters. The answer sent me by this worthless woman with three guineas 4th February 1791 or 92 was—‘Mrs. Piozzi sends her compliments to Mr. Malone, assuring him that she has already subscribed two guineas for this purpose, and has now sent three guineas more to make up five.’”
Toward the end of the year, a present from a friend put him in possession of a small volume of ancient English verse, of which by an alluring table of contents, an admirer of that age might reasonably be proud.
“Diana or the Sonnets of H. C. (Henry Constable) 1592 or 1594; Daniel’s Sonnets, with the ​Complaint of Rosamond, and the Tragedie of Cleopatra, 1594; Barnefield’s Sonnets, with the Legend of Cassandra, 1595; Fidessa, Sonnets by B. Griffin, 1596; Diella, Sonnets by R. L., with the Poem of Dom. Diego and Genevra, 1596; The Poem of Poems, or Sion’s Mase, by J. M. (Jarvais Markham) 1596; The Tragedie of Sir Richard Grinville, Kt. by the same, 1595.”
Here were treasures for a poetical antiquary! Poetry of vigour, elegance and originality thrown off in the age of Elizabeth, with a power which may cause the uninitiated an occasional stop in perusal to consider how in those days they could write so well! The volume is very small, just fit for the waistcoat pocket—four and a half inches long by three broad, pretty thick, well printed, in good condition, the date 1592. The story told of it is no less interesting than the little work itself, and deserves here the record he desires to preserve, as verifying its origin and career—
“The history of this book is curious. It was sold at the sale of Dr. Bernard’s books in 1698 for one shilling and threepence. Afterwards probably passing through many hands, it came into the possession of a broker at Salisbury, where about thirty years ago, Mr. Warton found it among a parcel of old iron and other lumber, and I think purchased it for sixpence. Since his death, his brother, Dr. Joseph Warton, very kindly presented it to me; and I have honoured it with a new cover, and have preserved above the name of my poor friend Mr. Thomas Warton which was written at the inside of the old cover, as a memorial of that very elegant and ingenious writer.
​“This is the book I have mentioned in the preface to my edition of Shakspeare, and such is the variation in prices of pieces of this kind, that if it were now to be produced at an auction, it would undoubtedly be sold for three or four guineas.
“The very rare copy of Shakspeare’s Venus and Adonis, 1596, originally made part of this volume, but on re-binding it I took out that piece in order to place it with my other early editions of Shakspeare’s pieces. I have also changed the place of Constable’s Sonnets, which originally did not stand in the front of this little volume.
“Edmond Malone, Dec. 1, 1791.”
This curious miniature rarity is numbered 436 in Malone’s contribution to the Bodleian. A pencil note attached to the Tragedie of Sir Richard Grinville, says—“This poem alone was purchased by Mr. Grenville at Mr. Bindley’s sale for 40l. 19s.” Though termed in the title Tragedie, it is a poem in one hundred and seventy-four Spenserian stanzas. The subject, the engagement near the Western Islands of Sir Richard with the Spanish Armada; his heroic conduct, wounds, and death. Of two or three introductory Sonnets, one is to “Henrie Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton and Baron of Tichfield,” whom he addresses as—
A visit to Beaconsfield gives us a sketch from authority of Abbé Raynal, reputed author of a one ​famous work, History of the East and West Indies. The account of him while in England sufficiently explains why his work has lost credit as an authority with us, and even in France. The other anecdotes I had long since noted in another place.
“At Mr. Burke’s, near Beaconsfeld, Sept. 6, 1791, General Conway, an officer in the French service, said that the Abbé Raynal’s book on the European Settlements in India, like many other modern French productions, was a work of contribution; that he had seen many of the different numbers of that work, which were written by various persons. Raynal himself was by no means equal to it, as his contemptible account of the Parliament of England evinced. He added, that after the work was originally compiled, the Abbé introduced a due portion of infidelity into it to please the esprits forts of Paris.
“Mr. Burke entirely agreed with him in his opinion of this writer. He said, when the Abbe was in England about eight or ten years ago, he had often seen him; he had visited at Beaconsfield; and did not show the least curiosity about either the literature, the politicks, or the commerce of England. Mr. Burke had offered to accompany him through various publick offices, and to explain the details of each, but the Abbé declined his offer. When he went to Bristol, Mr. Burke recommended him to some friends who would have displayed the whole arrangements and operations of that great commercial city; but when there, he simply inquired of one of the gentlemen to whom he was recommended, whether there was a playhouse in the city? An answer in the affirmative ​took him to see the performance; and no further information was sought of the gentleman to whom Mr. Burke’s letters were addressed.
“During his stay in England Mr. Gibbon the historian, mentioned to him that many inquiries had been made in our Parliament relative to India; and that he would send him various reports of the committee of inquiry from which much information might be obtained. The Abbé asked their size, and being told they amounted to seven folio volumes, he said that Mr. Gibbon need not give himself the trouble of transmission, as a friend who had been in India had given him a full account of the English possessions in that country, by which he should abide. This full account consisted of a single sheet of paper. All the details concerning the French East Indies which are found in his book are authentick, and may be depended upon, the author by order of the government having had admission to the public offices in Paris where information on this subject could be obtained. This piece of information I had from Mr. Gibbon, who considered that the most valuable part of the work.
“On a subsequent day (September, 1791) when no one but Sir J. Reynolds and myself were present, Mr. Burke, after dinner in the freedom of conversation said, that if there was one day of his life more brilliant than another and which he should wish to ​live over again, it was the day when he appeared at the bar of the House of Lords with the censure of the House of Commons in his hand, relative to the conduct of the managers on the impeachment of Mr. Hastings.
“He had from a sense of decorum and propriety absented himself from the debate in the Commons, and went down to the house at an early hour the next day to learn what had been done. He first desired the Resolution to be read to him, then demanded a copy of it; and immediately afterwards determined on the part he should take. This was not to relinquish the prosecution, as Mr. Fox strongly urged him to do on account of the indignity they had suffered from the house, and as Mr. Pitt certainly hoped he would have done. He had but an hour to prepare himself before he appeared at the bar of the House of Lords.
“The second most brilliant day of his life he esteemed the day when he was attacked by his own party in the House of Commons in May, 1791, relative to the French revolution; and was very feebly supported by Mr. Pitt though he pretended to agree with him in sentiment.
“It is remarkable, that many of the persons who have written answers to his book on the French Revolution, were of his particular acquaintance. Mr. Paine had been strongly recommended to him from America, and pretty frequently became a guest at Beaconsfield. He had also shown many civilities to Mr. Thomas Christie, another of his answerers; and to a Mr. Bousefield of the County of Cork, in ​Ireland, who is peculiarly virulent as I am told against him.
“Of Mr. Burke’s first book on this subject, just eighteen thousand have been now sold, as he told me this day. Twelve thousand of the French translation have been sold in Paris. It is done by Mons. Dupont, an avocat of the parliament of Paris.”
* ↑ See the letters recently published.
* ↑ It did not appear for two years afterwards.
* ↑ The lines were written by Camden, and are found in the old edition of Chaucer, printed in 1598.
* ↑ A note of Malone in Warton’s History of Poetry, vol. iii. p. 383, alludes to some comic tales of this writer, from whom, it is supposed, Shakspeare took the fable of Much Ado about Nothing. He is also supposed to be (instead of Fairfax) the first translator of Tasso: p. 392, v. iii. of the same work. Ed. 1824.
* ↑ He says: “A splendid edition of the plays and poems of our great dramatic poet, with the illustrations which the various editors and commentators have furnished, is yet a desideratum in English literature. I had, ten years ago, sketched out the plan of such an edition, and intend immediately to carry a similar volume into execution. It is almost unnecessary to add, that the same gratuitous zeal which induced me to undertake the former edition, will accompany this revisal of it, and that no diligence or care of mine shall be wanting to render this new edition of my work, which is to be ornamented with engravings, and to be printed in fifteen volumes royal quarto, worthy of our greatest English poet. The first two volumes are intended to be published next year.”
* ↑ Reflections on the Revolution in France.
* ↑ These, or rather extracts, were communicated to Mr. Croker for his edition of Boswell, from Upcott’s collection.
* ↑ The meaning of this is not very clear. What objection could Burke have, excepting, perhaps, some coolness towards Boswell, who had talked and exhibited some attachment to Hastings on his trial?
* ↑ Supposed to be copies of his Lectures.
* ↑ From the copy of Anecdotes, obligingly lent me by J. H. Markland, Esq., who purchased it at the younger Boswell’s sale in 1825.
* ↑ The Abbé Raynal seems to have been of the same opinion with Father Daniel, who, being shown in the Royal Library at Paris a large collection of MSS. relating to the history of France from the time of Louis XI., spent only an hour in looking over them, and declared he did not want those paperasses.
* ↑ All these circumstances I had learned from his family, in many conversations which Mrs. Haviland, his niece, had communicated to her son, Mr. Haviland Burke. But it is satisfactory to have such a matter-of-fact witness as Malone to their accuracy.
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