CHAPTER IV.
1778—1781.
Against three such lures—a seat in Parliament, no rivals of note in the courts, and residence in his native country—all irresistible to an ambitious man—his philosophic spirit was proof. Fame might be otherwise secured. Wealth and honours were not worth the slavery endured in the pursuit. Certain feminine temptations might be avoided. And the cultivation of sober, sedentary letters became therefore his deliberate choice.
In January 1778, came out An Attempt to ascertain the Order in which the Plays of Shakspeare were written. A few of his opinions upon this subject were subsequently modified; but the main were republished in the prologomena to his edition of the poet in 1790. He had the satisfaction likewise of securing the assent of such a fastidious judge as Steevens, who thus writes in his second edition:—“By the aid of the registers at Stationers’ Hall, and such internal evidences as the pieces themselves supply, he (Malone) hath so happily accomplished his undertaking, that he only leaves me the power to thank him for an arrangement which I profess my inability either to dispute or to improve.”
Uninfluenced by this successful opening into literary life, intimate friends in Ireland could see little advantage in his selection. They thought well of his talents, and wished for their exertion in a more stirring sphere. Politics formed the great game of all the Irish gentry; and he who declined to play it was thought to have spent his life to little purpose, or wanted spirit for the pursuit. As his brother had failed to move his resolution, others now tried their powers of persuasion. Among these were John Fitzgibbon, afterwards distinguished as Earl of Clare; one or two of the Fitzgeralds; and Mr. Denis Daly. All wished for his influence, or expected much from the soundness of his advice in a crisis they saw at hand.
The state of Ireland at this time had assumed a new and threatening aspect. As national misfortune will ever engender discontent, the disasters of the American war led Irish politicians to look narrowly into the condition of their country, in order as well to withstand a foreign enemy, as to place the ties that bound them to England in an improved condition. Her great and undoubted grievances were—restraint upon her originating laws for her own guidance, dependence of her Parliament upon the Ministry and Parliament of the sister state, and the imposition of very selfish and ungenerous restrictions upon her commerce by that state. England, above all countries in the world, would never for a moment have submitted to anything of the kind herself; but as the stronger party, she thought fit to inflict them upon a weaker for three-fourths of a century. The law of the strongest, however, is one not fated to last. Neither has a single opinion been advanced since in support of the justice or policy of a system long retained and unwillingly surrendered. Ireland, therefore, seized upon the moment to extricate herself from a thraldom at once tyrannical and insulting.
To do this, however, cost no ordinary effort. There was England to alarm or to convince of her error; Ireland to arouse to the point of resistance without risking absolute separation; a force to organize in order to give weight to her remonstrances; a spirit of true patriotism to instil into her crooked-minded or wavering statesmen; and the whole influence of government in Ireland and England to overcome.
One of the leading men in accomplishing these patriotic objects was the writer of the following letter, Mr. Denis Daly. Educated at Christchurch, Oxford, returned member for the county of Galway at twentyone, he is represented by Sir Jonah Barrington as “a man of great abilities, large fortune, exquisite eloquence, and high character.” Hardy, in his Life of Lord Charlemont, gives the highest praise to his oratory; and of one of his great efforts on the embargo question says: “It was the most perfect model of parliamentary speaking that, in my opinion, could be exhibited.” Lord Charlemont himself writes to Malone, January 11th, 1779, shortly after its delivery: “Your friend Daly has lately outdone himself; I never heard in any house of Parliament a better speech than his upon the embargo.” In 1779, he retired with Grattan to the village of Bray, about ten miles from Dublin, to concert those measures which, however opposed at the moment, and carried ultimately with difficulty, experience proved to be wise and effectual. They gave content, free trade, and independence of her Parliament to one country, without inflicting the slightest loss of any description upon the other.
To Malone he bore a strong attachment. They were good scholars, fond of books, read them attentively, and collected the best authors and first editions zealously, of which it appears he did not always gain possession after making the purchase. Lord Charlemont tells Malone, about 1779: “You have, I suppose, been informed of the evil destiny of Daly’s books. The ship in which they were embarked foundered off Beachy Head, and all his first editions are gone to the bottom.”
In addition to personal friendship, their families were intimate. Daly’s sister, a very clever person, had selected Henrietta and Catherine Malone as her chosen friends; and through this channel, no doubt, the persuasions of her brother to his friend to return to the land of his property and family became stronger. The mention of unhappiness alludes to his love affair. We have a glance, likewise, at some Irish statesmen; but the scene described at the conclusion we may consider rather as a sally of Irish vivacity than grave matter of fact.
My dear Ned.—I wrote to you about a month ago to pardon for my want of punctuality, and to plead guilty to as much idleness as you please to lay to my charge. I do not attempt to make any excuse of the business of Parliament, for very little has been done there; and I have been every whit as indolent with respect to that as to my correspondence. I put off writing to you, as I do about everything else, from day to day, intending to send you a very long letter, partly respecting you, and partly myself. But what I have heard from Fitzgerald lately has hurried me a little, and interested me enough about you to make me very impertinent.
I do most solemnly assure you that you have not a friend in the world more nearly concerned in everything that can happen to you than myself, and you may be sure that I cannot hear of your being unhappy, without being sincerely afflicted. When a man of good sense is completely master of a matter that concerns him—when nothing prevents him from seeing it with all its circumstances in its true light, it is the height of absurdity for any other person to pretend to advise him on the subject. And yet when I consider how warmly all your friends here wish to have you among them, and how very little pleasure or advantage you receive by being absent, I can hardly help entreating you to return, and not to sacrifice us all to so very little purpose. Depend upon it, however, you may pass over a year or two at your present time of life; you will find it more comfortable, as well as more respectable, to pass the principal part of it where your property and all your connections are, than at a distance from both.
If you are angry at the liberty I take, I shall soon be with you to make my excuses in person; and I do assure you a very principal inducement will be to see you, especially at present. Though you have deserted all your friends, you shall not be able to accuse them of deserting you. Our business here will be pretty well over at Easter, and I have no other, at least of a pleasanter kind, to detain me.
Our friend Burgh has played the most comical part in the world for a minister. He has laboured hard to keep up his character with both parties, but he has been very unsuccessful. He has acted against Government on one or two occasions, but has taken special care that the questions should be of no sort of consequence. In everything of importance he has stuck close to Administration, sometimes at the expense of his consistency. I do not find that he has convinced many persons of his disinterestedness, and has only persuaded his present patrons that he is a very inconvenient minister. The Attorney-General seems to grow into confidence. You can have no idea what a speaker he is at present, and how infinitely he falls short even of his former miserable rhapsodies. Burgh himself has been pretty bad upon the whole; and Flood hardly ever opens his lips except to convey an oblique censure upon the present Administration by praising the last. You may guess how matters stand in our House when I do assure you Opposition fairly out-talks the Ministry. As for myself, I got drunk last night with the Primate, the Speaker, and Mr. Secretary Heron. I hope in a very few weeks to trouble you to take lodgings for me; and am, my dear Ned,
I am now nominee for Bushe in his Petition for Kilkenny. When it is over, I will let you know.
Neither personal nor epistolary persuasions displaced the critic from his stool. London he had decided should be his home, and by that resolution meant to abide. Daly therefore paid his visit, but the voice of the charmer sounded in vain. In the following year he gives Malone the Irish view of the state of affairs, and of the English Opposition.
{{smaller block|I suppose you have heard that all my Editiones Principes are gone to edify the fishes off Beachy Head.[1] Pray let me know what I am in Mr.’s debt, that I may remit to him, and direct to me at Dunsandle,[2] as I mean to retire thither the moment Henry Grattan returns, whom we expect every day. In his letters to me, he does not seem to have acquired a high opinion either of the principles or eloquence of the British Parliament, especially of the Opposition.
It gives me great satisfaction to find that our independen companies (volunteers) raise some serious apprehensions both in the English and Irish Administrations, for I am convinced that this country will be indebted to their fears alone for any favours received. If I am not very much mistaken, our next session will be as turbulent as ever Charlemont himself could wish. Lord Buckingham is, of all men upon earth, the most unfit for the present crisis. He and all his coadjutors are timid to a ridiculous degree; and his public economy, necessary as it is, has made so many men his enemies that I have a strong suspicion that something in the way of a very strong address will be procured at the meeting of Parliament. I wish sincerely we may have hopes of seeing you at the opening of it. Surely London will have as great charms in October.
Your brother, sister, and all your friends here, are perfectly well except poor Charlemont, who is still terribly troubled by the rheumatism. You have heard, I suppose, that Fitz (Gibbon) is third Sergeant, Carleton, Solicitor (General), and Heller, a Judge in Tenison’s place.
When you write, let me know something of your literary pursuits. Consider that I am just going to be shut up for six months without any employment but composing panegyrics for the House of Commons; that I still feast upon every article of intelligence you send me; but, whether idle or occupied, always, my dear Ned,
Absence from Irish friends naturally induced the wish to replace them by others within easy reach of association. His connections, pleasing manners, and social qualities, found free access to such as could estimate classical knowledge, added to considerable attainments in Italian, French, and general literature To Johnson, Steevens, and many others of note, he soon added Tyrwhitt, Dr. Lort, the two Wartons, Isaac Reed, Dr. Farmer, Dr. Francklin (of Cambridge), Burney, and several more.
At what period he first knew Burke does not appear, though doubtless before settling in London, through the introduction of mutual Irish acquaintance. The date assigned in his private memoranda to intercourse with Sir Joshua Reynolds is 1778; in a printed statement, 1777. But there is little doubt that he knew him, though not intimately, at a still earlier period. In the President’s memoranda, as Mr. Cotton obligingly informs me, Mr. Malone paid the first instalment for his portrait (36l. 13s.) in May 1774; the second, a similar sum, in July 1778. The same memorial states that an equal sum remained then due for the portrait of Chancellor Malone (Anthony); so that the former appears to have been Edmond or his elder brother.
The intimacy with Sir Joshua became, after some time, cordial attachment. Each exercised that gentleman-like hospitality which gives to London life one of its powerful attractions. They often met at the houses of mutual friends, and sometimes took short country excursions together. Both were men of sterling worth, of social habits, good-natured, well-informed, attached to literature and literary men as sources of rational enjoyment, and esteemed by all who had admission to their society. Both were, as Malone has minutely recorded, of similar stature and weight, and although of considerable difference in age, each fond of testing his physical vigour as a pedestrian. At a later period, the painter occasionally sought Malone’s opinion on minor points connected with the composition of his discourses; and he did the same probably with Johnson and Burke. Hence a most ungenerous rumour found circulation, that he was indebted for much of their matter as well as manner to the Irish orator—an opinion which I have combated at some length in another place.[3]
Nothing indeed can be more unjust, under any circumstances falling short of positive proof, than to surmise away the honest reputation of any man of undoubted talents, such as Reynolds, because he associates with another of still higher genius and attainments. That men improve in mind by communication with greater minds, is the common attribute of our nature. We should be wanting in capacity, in observation, in common intelligence if it were not so. But it does not thence follow that the lesser intellect owes all its acquisitions to the greater. I find the following short note in Malone’s correspondence, in proof that the President did not always ask even Burke for those smaller critical offices which friends are free to exact from and render to each other:—
My dear Sir,—I wish you could just run your eye over my discourse, if you are not too much busied in what you have made your own employment. I could wish that you would do more than merely look at it; that you would examine it with a critical eye, in regard to grammatical correctness, the propriety of expression, and the truth of the observations. Yours, &c, J. Reynolds.
Resuming the line of inquiry commenced in his first work, the labours of Johnson and Steevens at this time came under review. Those gentlemen had not in their edition of Shakspeare introduced either his poetry or doubtful plays. This omission Malone proposed to supply. Of the former he says, though “near a century and half have elapsed since the death of Shakspeare, it is somewhat extraordinary that none of his various editors should have attempted to separate his genuine poetical compositions from the spurious performances with which they have been so long intermixed, or taken the trouble to compare them with the earlier editions.”
Two years were occupied in the laborious researches necessary for this work. Lord Charlemont, deep in the love of old poetry and plays, encouraged the design, clapped him on the back as he proceeded, and in regard to one of his own corrections in a disputed play, pays a handsome compliment to his friend.—“Exclusive of the quartos of Shakspeare, I am extremely glad you are getting on with your supplementary volumes. It was you know, always my opinion that the imputed plays ought to make a part of every complete edition; and the poems are absolutely necessary. With regard to my correction in Pericles, you may make what use you please of it, though if you do not choose absolutely to father it, I would rather go down to posterity by the appellation of a friend of yours, than by the far less honourable one of my own name.”
In 1780, appeared in two volumes, each of more than seven hundred pages, “Supplement to the Edition of Shakspear’s Plays by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens.”
Half the first volume is occupied by what he terms “Supplemental Observations” on the plays, actors, and theatres of the time, with a variety of notes which became afterwards in part embodied in a history of the stage; and a reprint of the scarce old poem Romeus and Juliet, taken from the Italian by Arthur Brooke. The other half contains Venus and Adonis, Rape of Lucrece, Sonnets, The Passionate Pilgrim, A Lover’s Complaint, with notes throwing such lights upon each as he possessed.
The second volume gives us seven doubtful plays—Pericles, Locrine, Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cromwell, London Prodigal, Puritans, Yorkshire Tragedy. Of these, several he pronounced to be undoubted spurious. Pericles at first was judged to be of the same class. Further consideration induced the belief that, if not wholly, it was in part, a genuine though early production, for which his reasons are assigned; and subsequent editors have agreed that he had at least a share in its composition.
This change of opinion, before being printed, he communicated, like most other of his impressions on such subjects, to Steevens. The latter, in return, detailed his reasons for a contrary belief. Malone prints both in the most amicable spirit, using an apologetical tone for differing from his friend; but to differ with him was not the way to his favour. Their intercourse hitherto had been friendly and frequent. The younger editor poured out freely his thoughts, discoveries, and accumulations to the elder, who in return confessed himself pleased and instructed. As expressive of his obligation, he even went so far as to quote from the subject of their mutual admiration:—
More is thy due than more than all can pay.”
But this spirit did not continue. A few more differences of opinion, and eventually the design by Malone of printing an edition of his own, threw him into disfavour with one whose rivalries and resentments were easily roused and difficult to allay.
Among others occasionally consulted on points where critics may fairly differ, or who may possess more ancient treasures for the elucidation of truth than their neighbours, was of course Lord Charlemont. He writes in reply, May 1779, and appears to arrive at Malone’s ultimate decision:—
I am not possessed of any ancient copy of the Venus and Adonis. If I were, you certainly should have the use of it.
In consequence of your last letter but one I read over Pericles, and am strongly of opinion that by far the greater part of it is the genuine work of Shakspeare. I cannot, however, join with you in thinking that it is all of his composition, as there are some parts so very absurd, that I think it hardly possible he should have been capable of writing them. As it was the fashion of the time for poets to club their wits, I should rather suppose that some foolish poetaster had been concerned in it, and that the whole had passed for the production of Shakspeare, as the principal author and the most popular name. The quarto copy is so very incorrect that you will, I fear, find the publication attended with some difficulty. There are many passages which appear to me scarcely intelligible. I have made some guesses at the sense of one or two, but they are so little satisfactory as not to be worth communicating to you. One, however, I will mention, though probably the same guess may have occurred to you. Diana’s speech toward the end of the play I would read thus. . . . .
Has Johnson received an Irish-English curiosity which I sent him by Lord Carysfort? It is a pity you could not procure the two plays of Massinger to make the volume complete.
During the following year, their literary intercourse continued pretty active. In the genuine spirit of a collector, what his lordship sought were rare things and of repute, and therefore to such inquirers valuable. Old poetry, plays, histories, pamphlets, first editions, quartos and octavos, as it might be, odd volumes to make up sets, deficient leaves to be made up by manuscript copies, Italian and French standard works of the same description of the older writers, formed his usual commissions. Numberless apologies are made for the trouble thus imposed. “If your friendly feelings were not sufficiently strong to get the better of every latent principle of indolence, you would, I am sure, shudder at the sight of my name signed to a letter—as from long experience you may safely conclude that some fresh trouble is at hand.” On another occasion: “You see how impudent I am. In the beginning of my letter I ask your pardon, and peremptorily demand your trouble in the conclusion. But I know you well enough to be sure that you will forgive this and a good deal more to your ever affectionate Charlemont.”
It may be doubted whether his lordship derived most pleasure from receiving these acquisitions, or Malone in making them.
Sometimes kinder offices were sought by either, an instance of which affected the interests of the widow of one to whom the Peer had been a considerate patron. This was Hogarth—a name scarcely less popular—shall we say national?—in its way than that of the great poet, the object of their mutual adoration. One was indeed rather an ancient, the other a contemporary; and therefore perhaps not yet arrived at his full measure of fame. Both were eminently men of the people; both exercised their respective talents upon society at large—not upon classes or sections, but upon the masses, in the hope of shaming and correcting vices and improprieties. Both possessed the clearest views of human nature in its various aspects. They could unveil without reserve the peculiarities of life—its characters, follies, offences, motives—and depict its actions each in his own way, with a power acknowledged by their countrymen to be almost exclusively their own. The pencil of the one was nearly as expressive and intelligible as the pen of the other—sometimes indeed more sarcastic—and each remains in his way unapproached and perhaps unapproachable.
A wish had been expressed in London for an extension of the better class of prints of the artist, with such additions as the possessors of original pictures might choose to supply. Lord Charlemont was known to possess a few of these. Malone was in consequence requested to sound him. The reply forms another specimen of the various topics on which they loved to dilate:—
Thank you for your letter, thank you for your purchases, and thank you over and over again for your kind and constant remembrance. But the King of Prussia when he beat the French and travelled post a thousand miles in order to beat the Russians, was not more hurried than I am.[4] My letter must, therefore, be very short, and I proceed at once to business.
Surrey’s Sonnets was the book of all others that I most desired. I am also extremely glad that you have got the Gascoyne, and return you many thanks for the means you are pursuing to perfect it, which I beg you would do, if possible, in print. But if any imperfection should still remain, I request that you will take the trouble to get it supplied in handwriting. And this I would entreat you to do with any imperfect book you may hereafter purchase for me. Do you not mistake when you say that the two plays which you had omitted to bind with my two volumes of B(eaumont) and Fletcher’s, would make my quartos complete? I have in all but sixteen plays, exclusive of the two you mention. Were there then no more than eighteen published in quarto? However, should you happen to have made a mistake, the two unbound plays will make a beginning for a third volume.
Elmsley[5] is, I am sure, mistaken with regard to the Natural History of Buffon. His birds were certainly printed on a very large paper and coloured. It was the price of these I was desirous of knowing, as well as the relative cost of the uncoloured and small paper.
That men of taste should wish for good impressions of Hogarth’s prints is not at all surprising, as I look upon him to have been, in his way, and that too an original way, one of the first of geniuses. Neither am I much surprised at the rage you mention, as I am, by experience, well acquainted with the collector’s madness. Excepting only the scarce portrait, my collection goes no farther than those which Mrs. Hogarth has advertised, and even of them a few are wanting, which I wish you would procure for me, viz., The Cock-match, The Five Orders of Periwigs, The Medley, The Times, Wilkes, and The Bruiser. As my impressions are remarkably good, having been selected for me by Hogarth himself, I should wish to}} have these the best that can be had; and if Mr. Steevens, who promised me his assistance, should happen to meet with any of those prints of which I am not possessed—I mean such compositions as do honour to the author, as, for instance, The Satire on the Methodists, The Masquerade, &c.—I should be much obliged to him to purchase them for me. To that gentleman I beg my best compliments. Should he purchase anything, you will be so good as to account with him.
I have no objection to suffering The Lady’s Last Stake to be engraved, but on the contrary, should be happy to do anything which might contribute to add to the reputation of my deceased friend. But then it must be performed in such a manner as to do him honour; for otherwise I should by no means consent. One great difficulty would be to procure a person equal to the making a drawing from it, as the subject is a very difficult one. Hogarth had it for a year, with an intention to engrave it, and even went so far as almost to finish the plate which, as he told me himself, he broke into pieces, upon finding that, after many trials, he could not bring the woman’s head to answer his idea, or to resemble the picture.
Here this subject dropped for a time, but was resumed in July, 1787, when his lordship writes to Malone for the information of the widow:—
I have this moment received a letter from Mrs. Hogarth, requesting that if I should permit any one to make an engraving of “The Lady’s Last Stake,” I would give the preference to a young gentleman who lodged in her house, as by such preference she should be greatly benefited. Of this application I consider it necessary to immediately inform you, as the affection I bore towards her deceased husband, my high regard for his memory, and, indeed, common justice, will most certainly prevent me from preferring any one else whatsoever to her in a matter of this nature. At the same time I must add, that whoever shall make a drawing from my picture must do it in Dublin, as I cannot think of sending it to London.
Will you, my dear Malone, be so kind in your morning walk as to call upon this lady, and read to her the above paragraph, as such communication will be the most satisfactory answer I can give to her letter. The same time, you will be so kind as to mention the circumstance and my resolution to the person in whose behalf the postscript in your letter was written. Perhaps matters may be settled amicably between him and Mrs. Hogarth, in which case I have no objection, provided the execution be such as not to disgrace the picture or its author, that the drawing be made in Dublin, and that Mrs. Hogarth be perfectly contented, and shall declare her satisfaction by a certificate in her own handwriting. I know your goodness will pardon all this trouble from, &c. &c.
Don’t forget to worry Elmsley about the Life of Petrarch.
In December (1781), his lordship forwards to his friend for publication in the newspapers a protest originating with him in the Irish House of Lords. It is accompanied by a political letter not necessary to find place here, but contains the passage already quoted, which drew forth Malone’s avowal of the state of his heart for so long a period. In the middle of it we find an outbreak of one of the prevailing passions:—“If you should happen to meet with Fleming’s Bucolics and Georgics of Virgil, London, 4to, 1585, and Phaer’s Æneid, first edition of seven books only (I have the second), I should be glad to purchase them, as I would bind them with Hervey’s fourth book. I should wish also to procure an edition of Surrey’s translation, which as I am told, contains the first and fourth books. Mine has only the fourth, and is, I believe, the first edition.”
Familiarity with Shakspeare led our critic onward to a still more remote age, in a tilt against the poems of Rowley. The fate of their alleged discoverer, Chatterton; the doubts and denials thrown upon their authenticity; their actual merits compared with others of their own or a subsequent age; and the improbability of their forgery by a mere youth, drew a large share of attention. Cool inquirers deemed them not genuine. Easy or less suspicious minds arrived at an opposite conclusion. Poetical imposture was not new. Ossian had already set the watch-dogs of criticism on the alert, ready to fly at any intruder in such questionable shape as Rowley.
Tyrwhitt had published an edition of the poems in 1777, in which and in an appendix, he had arrived at an adverse conclusion. But on the other hand, Dean Milles (of Exeter) and Jacob Bryant, whose learning was unquestionable, had taken the field as champions of their authenticity—the former in a quarto edition of the works; the latter in two octavo volumes of observations.
Against the latter gentleman, Malone, as a tenacious stickler for truth, was not slow in giving battle. His remarks, couched in good-humour and occasional ridicule, appeared first in the Gentleman’s Magazine, shaped afterwards into a pamphlet, Cursory Observations on the Poems attributed to Thomas Rowley, a Priest of the Fifteenth Century.
He contends for their spurious origin on four grounds: their versification, imitations of more modern authors, numerous anachronisms, besides the handwriting of the manuscript and state of the parchments. He considers it—and therefore implies some personal qualification for the task he had undertaken—”a fixed principle that the authenticity or spuriousness of the poems attributed to Rowley cannot be decided by any person, without a moderate at least, if not critical knowledge of the compositions of most of our poets, from the time of Chaucer to that of Pope.”
Thomas Warton, who followed him in a pamphlet in support of his original views, calls this “a sensible and conclusive performance.” Tyrwhitt, also, in a “Vindication” of above two hundred pages, reiterates his disbelief, and refers with commendation to Malone’s quotations of the opening lines of several old poems of that and subsequent dates, as certain evidence that the supposed Rowley had not caught either the language, versification, or manners of the time.
Volunteers rushed to the fight on either side. Burnaby Green, Dampier, Hickford, Rev. J. Fell, and others, in support of Milles and Bryant. On the other, we have Warton, Tyrwhitt, Steevens, Malone, Pinkerton, Chalmers, Scott, Southey, Croft, Jameson, and many more. Conviction could be scarcely doubtful where facts stood upon one side, and ingenious conjectures, added to a large store of belief, on the other. Even within a few months past the question has been revived; but life has not been breathed into it sufficient for critical resuscitation.
He wished the subject, however, as an interesting literary question, not to be forgotten. Everything written on it—tracts, reviews, magazines, and newsapers—was therefore collected, as his habit was on several other occasions, and bound together in volumes for reference. These, said to be complete on the subject, passed into the hands of a collector at the sale of his books in 1818. From this contest of criticism he was summoned to render aid to a tragedy by an old friend. This was the Count of Narbonne, brought out at Covent Garden in November 1781.
Robert Jephson, author of this and two previous tragedies, was son of a beneficed clergyman in Ireland, a friend of the Malone family and schoolfellow of the sons. Quitting Trinity College without a degree, he obtained a commission in the army; served at Belleisle; retired from his regiment unable to face the climate of the West Indies; found some friends in Dublin; whence he soon sought London as the general mart for disposable talents. An attachment to the drama introduced him to Garrick; and this led to acquaintance with Mrs. Cibber. Thence probably arose some hankerings after dramatic fame in the form of authorship; at least he had the address to persuade the former at one time with the promise of a play, to lend him 500l.; supposed to be then no ordinary feat of generalship with the economical manager.
One of his London friends was the well-known single-speech Hamilton, at whose villa at Hampton he spent much time, and who in fact made over to him a pension on the Irish establishment which had been given to Edmund Burke, and was soon extorted from that gentleman under the plea that he had withdrawn his services from Hamilton.[6] His employment here was that of an amusing literary friend. He had several qualifications for social enjoyment: one particularly in being an admirable mimic; so that in future life, any person who had once heard a debate in the Irish House of Commons had no occasion to ask the names of the parties imitated.
Well received in the upper circles of London, he found an introduction to Charles Townshend, then a member of the Ministry. One of the occasions proved to be a convivial entertainment protracted till the dawn of morning. The chief provocative to this excess was an amusing display of the talents of Jephson. He exhibited with remarkable fidelity and humour representations of persons with whom the parties present were familiar—the Duke of Newcastle, Lord North, Lord Northington, Alderman Beckford, Glover (author of Leonidas), and others of note. So well was this done that Charles Townshend, in a fit of admiration, started from his chair, embraced him with rapture, and vowed to make him his secretary. This enthusiasm passed away with the moment; but he was not forgotten. When his brother, Lord Townshend, went to Ireland as viceroy, Jephson was put upon the list for an office in the household, and soon became Master of the Horse. A seat in Parliament followed. In the society of the “Castle” and its chief, amid the wit, talents, and hospitality which then shone pre-eminent in Dublin, he found the position fitted above all others for that species of enjoyment where the “flow of soul” was aided by liberal streams of claret and whisky punch.
But he possessed some higher merits. That taste for poetry and the drama already alluded to which had been early imbibed, became fostered by intimacy with the leading actors of London. In the Irish House of Commons his humour shone so often to the general amusement as to procure him the name of the “Mortal Momus.” In the press he was equally diligent with Courtenay and others, in a series of satirical papers directed against the writers of “Baratariana” the opponents of Lord Townshend’s government.
But he aimed at fame through a more general audience. In 1775 he brought out the tragedy of Braganza; in 1779, The Law of Lombardy; but, not content with writing tragedy, displayed also his powers in acting it in the private theatre of the Phænix Park. Lord Charlemont thus writes to Malone, in January, 1779:—“The nineteenth of this instant is to be presented, at the new theatre in the Park, the tragedy of Macbeth. The part of Macbeth by Jephson; Lady, by Mrs. Gardiner; Macduff, by Mr. Gardiner,[7] &c. &c. With the Citizen for a farce; Maria, by Miss Flora Gardiner. Here your assistance will be much wanting.”
He had now ready for the stage The Count of Narbonne, taken from Horace Walpole’s Castle of Otranto. The diplomacy then necessary to introduce a new play to the theatre was not small. Every species of friends were pressed into the service—statesmen and stateswomen, poets and players, peers and commoners; so that the unhappy author, after spending two or three years in the composition of a piece, passed perhaps as many more in procuring its representation. On this occasion Malone was solicited to render his obstetric aid. Theatrical studies and acquirements pointed him out as fitted rather to command than entreat the good-will of a manager. Aided by Horace Walpole, whose good offices were likewise sought, and who felt interested in a scion from his own stock, he succeeded. It was performed on November 17, 1781; ran nine nights in succession, and for twenty-one during the season.[8] Malone to his other services added the following epilogue, of which his friend the Rev. W. Jephson writes in March, 1782:—“I believe I never told you how much we admired your epilogue. We all agree that it is complete. I really did not think you could write such good verses, at least upon a very short warning. I do not suppose there are more than three in the language that come near it. We hear that you spend much time with Mr. Walpole. I hope it is the case. Such company is exactly to your taste.”
EPILOGUE TO THE “COUNT OF NARBONNE.’
Spoken by Miss Younge.
The hardest sure on dramatists is laid:
No easy task in this enlighten’d time
It is, with art “to build the lofty rhyme,”
To choose a fable nor too old nor new,
To keep each character distinctly true;
The subtle plot with happy skill combine,
And chain attention to the nervous line;
With weighty clashing interest to perplex,
Through five long acts—each person—of each sex;
And then at last by dagger or by bowl,
To freeze the blood and harrow up the soul;
All this achieved, the bard at ease carouses,
And dreams of laurels and o'erflowing houses;
Alas, poor man! his work is done but half,
He has made you cry—but now must make you laugh:
And the same engine, like the fabled steel,[9]
Must serve at once to wound you and to heal.
Our bard of this had ta'en too little care,
And by a friend he sought me to appear.
“Madam,” he said, “so oft you've graced the scene,
An injured princess or a weeping queen,
So oft been used to die in anguish bitter,
And then start up to make the audience titter,
That doubtless you know best what is in vogue,
And can yourself invent an Epilogue.
You can supply an author's tardy quill,
And gild the surface of his tragic pill;
Your ready wit a recipe can bring
For this capricious serio-comic thing.”
A recipe for Epilogues! “Why not?
Have you each vaunting chronicle forgot?
Have we not recipes each day, each hour,
To give to mortal man immortal power?
To give the ungraceful timid speaker breath,[10]
And save his quivering eloquence from death.
Have we not now a geometric school
To teach the cross-legged youth to snip by rule?[11]
When arts like these each moment meet our eyes,
Why should receipts for Epilogues surprise?"
“Well, sir, I'll try.” I first advance with simper,
Forgotten quite my tragic state, and whimper.
Ladies, to-night my fate was surely hard,
What could possess our inconsiderate bard
A wife to banish that his miss might wed,
When modern priests allow them both one bed.
Thus I'll begin: but it will never do,
Unless some recent anecdotes ensue:
Has no frail dame been caught behind a screen?
No panting virgin flown to Gretna Green?
Have we no news of Digby or the Dutch?
At some rich Nabob can't I have a touch?
Or the famed quack,[12] who, but for duns terrestrial,
Had gain'd the Indies by his bed celestial.
“Bravo, Miss Younge!—the thought my friend will bless,
“This modish medley must insure success.”
Won by his smooth-tongued flattery I've dared
To do what ev'n our fluent author fear'd.
If I succeed to-night the trade I'll follow,
And dedicate my leisure to Apollo.
Before my house a board shall straight be hung,
With—“Epilogues made here by Dr. Younge!”
Nor will I, like my brethren, take a fee,
Your hands and smiles are wealth enough for me.[13]
- ↑ Alluding to the foundering of the ship that contained them on her passage to Ireland.
- ↑ His seat in the west of Ireland.
- ↑ Life of Burke, p. 360, 5th edition.
- ↑ At this period the Volunteers of Ireland were in full activity; and his duties, as their general, not a little arduous.
- ↑ A well-known bookseller.
- ↑ Life of Burke, 5th edition, p. 71. See also a subsequent page of this work.
- ↑ Afterwards Lord Mountjoy.
- ↑ Geneste, in his History of the Stage, says nineteen. Walpole himself was not a little elated by its success. Next day (Nov. 18th) he writes to General Conway of “tending and nursing and waiting on Mr. Jephson’ play. I brought it into the world, was well delivered of it; it can stand on its own legs, and I am going back to my own quiet hill, never likely to have anything more to do with the theatre.”
- ↑ The spear of Achilles.
- ↑ In allusion to a quack medicine recommended for its efficacy in calming the nervous agitation of some public speakers.
- ↑ A tailor has lately informed the public that he fits his customers by geometric rules.
- ↑ Dr. Graham, from his “Temple of Hymen,” had announced that “if it were not for unprecedented cruelty, he would in a few years have been one of his Majesty's richest and most respectable subjects.”
- ↑ In addition to these and other tragic pieces hereafter to be mentione the sister muse was not forgotten. He is recorded to have written the Hotel farce, 1783; the Campaign, opera, 1785; Love and War, 1787; Two Strings to your Bow, 1791, only the last of which met with popular favour. But I have met with no communication on these pieces to his critical confidant in London, the letters to Malone being probably returned, as in other instances to the family.