This affair was no sooner discussed, than another gentleman exhibited a complaint, signifying, that he had undertaken to translate into English, a certain celebrated author, who had been cruelly mangled by former attempts; and that, soon as his design took air, the proprietors of those miserable translations had endeavoured to prejudice his work, by industrious insinuations, contrary to truth and fair dealing, importing, that he did not understand one word of the language which he pretended to translate.1 This being a case that nearly concerned the greatest part of the audience, it was taken into serious deliberation: some observed, that it was not only a malicious effort against the plaintiff, but also a spiteful advertisement to the public, tending to promote an inquiry into the abilities of all other translators, few of whom (it was well known) were so qualified, as to stand the test of such examination. Others said, that over and above this consideration, which ought to have its due weight with the college, there was a necessity for concerting measures to humble the presumption of booksellers, who had, from time immemorial, taken all opportunities to oppress and enslave their authors; not only by limiting men of genius to the wages of a journeyman taylor, without even allowing them one sabbath in the week, but also in taking such advantages of their necessities, as were inconsistent with justice and humanity. “For example, (said one of the members) after I myself had acquired a little reputation with the town, I was caressed by one of those tyrants who professed a friendship for me, and even supplied me with money, according to the exigencies of my situation; so that I looked upon him as the mirrour of disinterested benevolence; and had he known my disposition, and treated me accordingly, I should have writ for him upon his own terms. After I had used his friendship in this manner for some time, I happened to have occasion for a small sum of money, and with great confidence made another application to my good friend; when all of a sudden he put a stop to his generosity, refused to accommodate me in the most abrupt and mortifying style; and though I was at that time pretty far advanced in a work for his benefit, which was a sufficient security for what I owed him, he roundly asked, how I proposed to pay the money which I had already borrowed. Thus was I used like a young whore just come upon the town, whom the bawd allows to run into her debt, that she may have it in her power to oppress her at pleasure; and if the sufferer complains, she is treated like the most ungrateful wretch upon earth; and that too with such appearance of reason, as may easily mislead an unconcerned spectator. ‘You unthankful drab! (she will say) didn’t I take you into my house when you hadn’t a shift to your back, a petticoat to your tail, nor a morsel of bread to put into your belly? Ha’n’t I cloathed you from head to foot like a gentlewoman, supported you with board, lodging, and all necessaries, till your own extravagance hath brought you into distress; and now you have the impudence, you nasty, stinking brimstone bungaway!2 to say you are hardly dealt with, when I demand no more than my own.’ Thus the whore and the author are equally oppressed, and even left without the melancholy privilege of complaining; so that they are fain to subscribe to such terms as their creditors shall please to impose.”
This illustration operated so powerfully upon the conviction and resentment of the whole college, that revenge was universally denounced against those who had aggrieved the plaintiff; and after some debate, it was agreed, that he should make a new translation of some other saleable book, in opposition to a former version belonging to the delinquents, and print it in such a small size, as would enable him to undersell their property; and that this new translation should be recommended and introduced into the world, with the whole art and influence of the society.
This affair being settled to the satisfaction of all present, an author of some character stood up, and craved the advice and assistance of his fellows, in punishing a certain nobleman of great pretensions to taste,3 who, in consequence of a production which this gentleman had ushered into the world, with universal applause, not only desired, but even eagerly courted his acquaintance. “He invited me to his house (said he) where I was overwhelmed with civility and professions of friendship. He insisted upon my treating him as an intimate, and calling upon him at all hours, without ceremony; he made me promise to breakfast with him at least three times a week: In short, I looked upon myself as very fortunate, in meeting with such advances from a man of his interest and reputation, who had it in his power to befriend me effectually in my passage through life; and, that I might not give him any cause to think I neglected his friendship, I went to his house in two days, with a view of drinking chocolate, according to appointment: but he had been so much fatigued with dancing at an assembly over night, that his valet de chambre would not venture to wake him so early; and I left my compliments to his lordship, with a performance in manuscript, which he had expressed a most eager desire to peruse. I repeated my visit next morning, that his impatience to see me might not have some violent effect upon his constitution; and received a message from his minister, signifying, that he had been highly entertained with the manuscript I had left, a great part of which he had read, but was at present so busy in contriving a proper dress for a private masquerade, which would be given that same evening, that he could not have the pleasure of my company at breakfast. This was a feasible excuse, which I admitted accordingly, and in a day or two appeared again, when his lordship was particularly engaged. This might possibly be the case; and therefore I returned the fourth time, in hopes of finding him more at leisure; but he had gone out about half an hour before my arrival, and left my performance with his valet de chambre, who assured me, that his lord had perused it with infinite pleasure. Perhaps I might have retired very well satisfied with this declaration, had not I, in my passage through the hall, heard one of the footmen, upon the top of the stair-case, pronounce with an audible voice, ‘Will your lordship please to be at home, when he calls?’ It is not to be supposed that I was pleased at this discovery, which I no sooner made, than turning to my conductor, ‘I find, (said I) his lordship is disposed to be abroad to more people than me this morning.’ The fellow (though a valet de chambre) blushed at this observation; and I withdrew, not a little irritated at the silly peer’s disingenuity, and fully resolved to spare him my visits for the future. It was not long after this occasion, that I happened to meet him in the park, and being naturally civil, I could not pass him without a salutation of the hat, which he returned in the most distant manner, though we were both solitary, and not a soul within view; and when that very performance, which he had applauded so warmly, was lately published by subscription,4 he did not bespeak so much as one copy. I have often reflected with wonder upon this ridiculous inconsistency in the man’s conduct, which looks like the result of a settled design to render himself odious and contemptible. I never courted his patronage, nor indeed thought of his name, until he made interest for my acquaintance; and if he was disappointed in my conversation, why did he press me so much to further connexion?”
“The case is very clear, (cried the chairman, interrupting him) he is one of those coxcombs who set up for taste, and value themselves upon knowing all men of genius, whom they would be thought to assist in their productions. I will lay an even bet with any man, that his lordship, on the strength of that slender interview, together with the opportunity of having seen your performance in manuscript, has already hinted to every company in which he is conversant, that you solicited his assistance in retouching the piece, which you have now offered to the publick, and that he was pleased to favour you with his advice, but found you obstinately bigotted to your own opinion, in some points relating to those very passages which have not met with the approbation of the town. And as for his caresses, there was nothing at all extraordinary in his behaviour. By that time you have lived to my age, you will not be surprized to see a courtier’s promise and performance of a different complexion: not but that I would willingly act as an auxiliary to your resentment, if I thought it was possible to make him repent of his pitiful dissimulation; but, if I guess aright, the person you mean, has long ago conquered all sense of probity and shame, and therefore is effectually shielded against the revenge of an author.”
The opinion of the president was sanctioned by the concurrence of all the members; and all other complaints and memorials being deferred till another sitting, the college proceeded to an exercise of wit, which was generally performed once every fortnight, with a view to promote the expectoration of genius.5 The subject was occasionally chosen by the chairman, who opened the game with some shrewd remark naturally arising from the conversation; and then the ball was tossed about from one corner of the room to the other, according to the motions of the spirit.
That the reader may have a just idea of this sport, and of the abilities of those who carried it on, I shall repeat the sallies of this evening, according to the order and succession in which they escaped. One of the members observing that Mr. Metaphor was absent, was told by the person who sat next to him, that the poet had foul weather at home, and could not stir abroad. “What! (said the president, interposing, with the signal upon his countenance) is he wind-bound in port?” “Wine-bound, I suppose,” (cried another). “Hooped with wine! a strange metaphor!” (said a third). “Not if he has got into a hogshead,” (answered a fourth). “The hogshead will sooner get into him, (replied a fifth) it must be a tun or an ocean.” “No wonder then, if he should be overwhelmed,” (said a sixth). “If he should, (cried a seventh) he will cast up when his gall breaks.”6 “That must be very soon, (roared an eighth) for it has been long ready to burst.” “No, no, (observed a ninth) he’ll stick fast at the bottom, take my word for it; he has a natural alacrity in sinking.”7 “And yet, (remarked a tenth) I have seen him in the clouds.” “Then was he cloudy, I suppose,” (cried the eleventh). “So dark, (replied the other) that his meaning could not be perceived.” “For all that, (said the twelfth) he is easily seen through.” “You talk, (answered a thirteenth) as if his head was made of glass.” “No, no, (cried a fourteenth) his head is made of more durable stuff; it will bend before it breaks.” “Yet I have seen it broken,” (resumed the president). “Did you perceive any wit come out at the hole?” (said another). “His wit (replied the chairman) is too subtile to be perceived.”
A third mouth was just opened, when the exercise was suddenly interrupted by the dreadful cry of fire, which issued from the kitchen, and involved the whole college in confusion. Every man endeavouring to be the first in making his exit, the door and passage were blocked up; each individual was pummelled by the person that happened to be behind him. This communication produced noise and exclamation; clouds of smoke rolled upwards into the apartment, and terror sat on every brow; when Peregrine seeing no prospect of retreating by the door, opened one of the windows, and fairly leapt into the street, where he found a crowd of people assembled to contribute their assistance in extinguishing the flames. Several members of the college followed his example, and happily accomplished their escape: the chairman himself being unwilling to use the same expedient, stood trembling on the brink of descent, dubious of his own agility, and dreading the consequence of such a leap, when a chair happening to pass, he laid hold on the opportunity, and by an exertion of his muscles pitched upon the top of the carriage, which was immediately overturned in the kennel,8 to the grievous annoyance of the fare, which happened to be a certain effeminate beau, in full dress, on his way to a private assembly.
This phantom of a man, hearing the noise overhead, and feeling the shock of being overthrown, at the same time, thought that some whole tenement had fallen upon the chair, and, in the terror of being crushed to pieces, uttered a scream which the populace supposed to proceed from the mouth of a woman; and therefore went to his assistance, while the chairmen, instead of ministring to his occasions, no sooner recollected themselves, than they ran in pursuit of their overthrower, who being accustomed to escapes from bailiffs, dived into a dark alley, and vanishing in a trice, was not visible to any living soul, until he appeared next day on Tower-hill.9
The humane part of the mob, who bestirred themselves for the relief of the supposed lady, no sooner perceived their mistake, in the appearance of the beau, who stared around him with horror and affright, than their compassion was changed into mirth, and they began to pass a great many unsavoury jokes upon his misfortune, which they now discovered no inclination to alleviate; and he found himself very uncomfortably beset, when Pickle pitying his situation, interposed in his behalf, and prevailed upon the chairmen to carry him into the house of an apothecary in the neighbourhood, to whom his mischance proved a very advantageous accident; for the fright operated so violently upon his nerves, that he was seized with a delirium, and lay a whole fortnight, deprived of his senses; during which period he was not neglected in point of medicines, food and attendance, but royally regaled, as appeared by the contents of his landlord’s bill.
Our adventurer having seen this unfortunate beau safely housed, returned to the scene of the other calamity, which, as it was no other than a foul vent, soon yielded to the endeavours of the family, and was happily overcome, without any other bad consequence than that of alarming the neighbours, disturbing the college, and disordering the brain of a beau.
Eager to be acquainted with the particular constitutions of a society which seemed to open upon him by degrees, Mr. Pickle did not fail to appear at the next meeting, when several petitions were laid before the board, in behalf of those members who were confined in the prisons of the Fleet, Marshalsea, and King’s bench.10 As those unhappy authors expected nothing from their brethren but advice and good offices, which did not concern the purse, their memorials were considered with great care and humanity; and, upon this occasion, Peregrine had it in his power to manifest his importance to the community; for he happened to be acquainted with the creditor of one of the prisoners, and knew that gentleman’s severity was owing to his resentment at the behaviour of the debtor, who had lampooned him in print, because he refused to comply with a fresh demand, after he had lent him money to the amount of a considerable sum. Our young gentleman therefore understanding that the author was penitent, and disposed to make a reasonable submission, promised to employ his influence with the creditor towards an accommodation; and, in a few days, actually obtained his release.
These social duties being discharged, the conversation took a general turn, and several new productions were freely criticised; those especially which belonged to authors who were either unconnected with, or unknown to the college. Nor did the profession of stage-playing escape the cognizance of the assembly: a deputation of the most judicious members being sent weekly to each theatre, with a view of making remarks upon the performance of the actors. The two censors for the preceding week were accordingly called upon to give in their report; and the plays which they had reviewed were the Fair Penitent11 and the Revenge.12 The person who had examined the former of these tragedies, owned that he had made no material observations upon the principal performers: he said he was, upon the whole, very well entertained, tho’ he had, at first, mistaken Lothario,13 by his dress, for a puppet-shew man, hired for the entertainment of the guests at Calista’s wedding;14 and was afterwards a little surprised at his unreasonable demand, when, in challenging Horatio to single combat,15 he desired such an unweildy antagonist to meet him a whole mile among rocks; an expedition which could not be performed without imminent danger of broken bones.
Peregrine imagining that this remark proceeded from his ignorance of the play, observed that the critick might possibly be misled by the words of the defiance, which run thus:
West of the town a mile, among the rocks,
Two hours ere noon to-morrow I expect thee.16
“Sir (answered the censor) I am not acquainted with the text, else I should have placed my observation to the account of the author, instead of the actor, who made a full stop at the word town, and then pronounced—a mile among the rocks, without the least pause of distinction. Perhaps, indeed, in the researches of his great penetration, he may have discovered that this is the genuine pointing of the poet,17 and that Lothario had actually a design upon the shins of Altamont’s friend:18 in which case he is to be commended for this, among his other improvements in the art of acting; yet I cannot approve of his refinements in the mystery of dying hard; his fall, and the circumstances of his death, in the character of this gay libertine, being, in my opinion, a lively representation of a tinker oppressed with gin, who staggers against a post, tumbles into the kennel, while his hammer and saucepan drop from his hands, makes divers convulsive efforts to rise, and finding himself unable to get up, with many intervening hiccups, addresses himself to the surrounding mob.”
“I confess (replied Pickle) the action of that same player is not free from unnatural violence and ridiculous gesticulation: a kind of false fire in which he finds his account with the audience, who never fail to honour it with particular marks of applause; but I think the simile of the tinker is too severe, and rather one of those grotesque comparisons which may subject the most grave and solemn incidents to ridicule, than a fair and candid illustration of the fact: as for the perversion of the author’s sense, by an impropriety in the declamation, it so commonly occurs, even in the most celebrated actors, that one would think it was an obstacle not to be surmounted: the delightful lullaby of the stage is an established recitative, which seems to have been composed on the supposition that the sentence is always concluded at the end of the line; and when the last word happens to begin a new period, the sense of the whole must suffer accordingly. I have heard the Æsopus of the age,19 who values himself upon accurate speaking, commit innumerable blunders of this kind, one of which I, at present, recollect, in a passage of a late play, which he repeated in this manner:
To beg protection for the men who lie,——
Trembling behind their ramparts.20
Thus he brought the poor Romans under the imputation of falshood as well as fear; for, according to his pause, they told lies, as well as trembled behind their ramparts.”
“These are no other than petty oversights: (said the second censor) that gentleman (take him all in all) is certainly the most compleat and unblemished performer that ever appeared on our stage, notwithstanding the blind adoration which is paid to his rival.21 I went two nights ago, with an express design to criticize his action: I could find no room for censure, but infinite subject for admiration and applause. In Pierre he is great, in Othello excellent, but in Zanga beyond all imitation.22 Over and above the distinctness of pronunciation, the dignity of attitude and expression of face, his gestures are so just and significant, that a man, tho’ utterly bereft of the sense of hearing, might, by seeing him only, understand the meaning of every word he speaks! Sure nothing can be more exquisite than his manner of telling Isabella how Alonzo behaved when he found the incendiary letter which she had dropt by the Moor’s direction;23 and when, to crown his vengeance, he discovers himself to be the contriver of all the mischief that had happened, he manifests a perfect master-piece of action, in pronouncing these four little monosyllables, Know then, ’twas—I.”24
Peregrine having eyed the critick some minutes, “I fancy (said he) your praise must be ironical, because, in the very two situations you mention, I think I have seen that player out-herod Herod,25 or, in other words, exceed all his other extravagances. The intention of the author is, that the Moor should communicate to his confidante a piece of information contained in a few lines, which, doubtless, ought to be repeated with an air of eagerness and satisfaction, not with the ridiculous grimace of a monkey, to which, methought, his action bore an intimate resemblance, in uttering this plain sentence:
—he took it up;
But scarce was it unfolded to his sight,
When he, as if an arrow pierc’d his eye,
Started, and trembling dropt it on the ground.26
In pronouncing the first two words, this egregious actor stoops down, and seems to take up something from the stage, then proceeding to repeat what follows, mimicks the manner of unfolding a letter; when he mentions the simile of an arrow piercing the eye, he darts his forefinger towards that organ, then recoils with great violence when the word started is expressed; and when he comes to trembling dropt it on the ground, he throws all his limbs into a tremulous motion, and shakes the imaginary paper from his hand. The latter part of the description is carried on with the same minute gesticulation, while he says,
Pale and aghast a while my victim stood,
Disguised a sigh or two, and puff’d them from him;
Then rubb’d his brow, and took it up again.
The player’s countenance assumes a wild stare, he sighs twice most piteously, as if he were on the point of suffocation, scrubs his forehead, and bending his body, apes the action of snatching an object from the floor. Nor is this dexterity of dumb shew omitted, when he concludes his intimation in these three lines:
At first, he look’d as if he meant to read it;
But, check’d by rising fears, he crush’d it thus,
And thrust it, like an adder, in his bosom.
Here the judicious performer imitates the confusion and concern of Alonzo, seems to cast his eyes upon something, from which they are immediately withdrawn, with horror and precipitation, then shutting his fist with a violent squeeze, as if he intended to make immediate application to Isabella’s nose, he rams it in his own bosom, with all the horror and agitation of a thief taken in the manner. Were the player debarred the use of speech, and obliged to act to the eyes only of the audience, this mimickry might be a necessary conveyance of his meaning; but when he is at liberty to signify his ideas by language, nothing can be more trivial, forced, unnatural and antick, than this superfluous mummery. Not that I would exclude from the representation the graces of action, without which the choicest sentiments, cloathed in the most exquisite expression, would appear unanimated and insipid; but these are as different from this ridiculous burlesque, as is the demeanor of a Tully in the rostrum,27 from the tricks of a Jack-pudding on a mountebank’s stage:28 and for the truth of what I alledge, I appeal to the observation of any person who has considered the elegance of attitude and propriety of gesture, as they are universally acknowledged in the real characters of life. Indeed I have known a Gascon,29 whose limbs were as eloquent as his tongue; he never mentioned the word sleep without reclining his head upon his hand; when he had occasion to talk of an horse, he always started up and trotted across the room, except when he was so situated that he could not stir without incommoding the company, and in that case he contented himself with neighing aloud: if a dog happened to be the subject of his conversation, he wagged his tail, and grinned in a most significant manner; and one day he expressed his desire of going backwards with such natural imitation of his purpose,30 that every body in the room firmly believed he had actually overshot himself, and fortified their nostrils accordingly. Yet no man ever looked upon this virtuoso to be the standard of propriety in point of speaking and deportment. For my own part, I confess the player in question would, by dint of these qualifications, make a very good figure in the character of Pantaloon’s lacquey, in the entertainment of Perseus and Andromeda,31 and perhaps might acquire some reputation, by turning the Revenge into a pantomime; in which case, I would advise him to come upon the stage, provided with an handful of flour, in order to besmear his face, when he pronounces pale and aghast, &c. and methinks he ought to illustrate the adder with an hideous hiss. But let us now come to the other situation, in which this modern Æsopus is supposed to distinguish himself so much, I mean that same eclaircissement32 comprehended in Know then ’twas—I. His manner, I own, may be altered since I was present at the representation of that performance; but certain I am, when I beheld him in that critical conjuncture, his behaviour appeared to me so uncouth, that I really imagined he was visited by some epileptic distemper; for he stood tottering and gasping for the space of two minutes, like a man suddenly struck with the palsy; and after various distorsions and side-shakings, as if he had got fleas in his doublet, heaved up from his lungs the letter I, like a huge anchor from foul ground.”
This criticism was acceptable to the majority of the college, who had no great veneration for the player in question; and his admirer, without making any reply, asked in a whisper, of the gentleman who sat next to him, if Pickle had not offered some production to the stage, and met with a repulse.33 This question was not conveyed so softly, but that it reached the ears of our adventurer, who seemed disposed to make some answer, when he was prevented by the interposition of another member, who begged the opinion and advice of the community, touching a pastoral which he had just composed. Before he had time to produce the performance to the inspection of the society, the chairman observed, with a splenetic air, that he ought to have employed his time in some more profitable amusement, than a species of writing in which he had formerly met with so little success.
“True it is (replied the author) my last production of this kind was not very favourably received; a circumstance intirely owing to the nature of the subject, which did not at all interest the passions of the heart: but here, my dear Sir, the case is otherwise; this pastoral I composed upon the death of my own grandmother,34 who was a woman, in all respects, worthy of the tears I have shed over her tomb; and this small composition is the genuine offspring of unfeigned sorrow: the blots which are still visible on the paper, indicate the grief with which I wrote it. Lachrymæ fecêre lituras.35 And sure he must have a flinty heart who can hear it read with an unmoistened eye.”
“If that be the case (said the president) I wish you would spare us the affliction of hearing it rehears’d: all of us, I believe, have real grievances of our own; so that we need not hunt after imaginary sorrows.” The poet, notwithstanding this discouragement, begg’d hard that he might exhibit a specimen of his performance; and being restricted to a few lines, he repeated the following stanzas, with the most rueful emphasis.
Where wast thou, wittol Ward,36 when hapless fate
From these weak arms mine aged grannam tore:
These pious arms essay’d too late,
To drive the dismal phantom from the door.
Could not thy healing drop, illustrious quack,
Could not thy salutary pill prolong her days,
For whom, so oft, to Marybone,37 alack!
Thy sorrels dragg’d thee thro’ the worst of ways?
Oil-dropping Twick’nham38 did not then detain
Thy steps, tho’ tended by the Cambrian maids;39
Nor the sweet environs of Drury-lane;40
Nor dusty Pimlico’s embow’ring shades;41
Nor Whitehall,42 by the river’s bank,
Beset with rowers dank;
Nor where th’ Exchange pours forth its tawny sons;43
Nor where to mix with offal, soil and blood,
Steep Snowhill rolls the sable flood;44
Nor where the Mint’s contaminated kennel runs:45
Ill doth it now beseem,
That thou should’st doze and dream,
When death in mortal armour came,
And struck with ruthless dart the gentle dame.
Her lib’ral hand and sympathising breast,
The brute creation kindly bless’d:
Where’er she trod grimalkin purr’d around,46
The squeaking pigs her bounty own’d;
Nor to the waddling duck or gabbling goose,
Did she glad sustenance refuse;
The strutting cock she daily fed,
And turky with his snout so red;
Of chickens careful as the pious hen,
Nor did she overlook the tomtit or the wren;
While redbreast hopp’d before her in the hall,
As if she common mother were of all.
For my distracted mind,
What comfort can I find?
O best of grannams! thou art dead and gone,
And I am left behind to weep and moan,
To sing thy dirge in sad funereal lay,
Ah! woe is me! alack! and well-a-day!
These interjections at the close of this pathetic elegy, were not pronounced without the sobs and tears of the author, who looked wishfully around him for applause, and having wiped his eyes, asked the chairman’s opinion of what he had read. That cynical gentleman, who had no great devotion for the Arcadian,47 answered with a most equivocal aspect, “Sad, very sad! sad enough to draw tears from the eyes of a bum-bailiff.”48 But as the performance was submitted to the criticism of the whole society, the epic poet stood up, and thus communicated his sentiments.
“Without entering upon a minute inquiry into the poetical merits of particular images, I must in general observe, that the stanzas are so irregular in point of measure, as well as in the number of the lines, that they cannot be comprehended under any species of the ancient versification. Then there are many dark allusions in the Antistrophe, which no reader can possibly understand, together with a catalogue of the names of places, for which the author seems to have rambled strangely from his subject, more studious of making a silly parade of his skill in poetical geography, than of interesting the passions of the heart. Indeed, one would be apt to conclude from this circumstance, that his grief was mere affectation, did not he blubber so piteously in the last verse. I could have wished, that more dignity had been preserved in the stanza which describes the old gentlewoman’s benevolence, and that the last line had been altogether omitted, because it conjures up a most ridiculous image of her having actually hatched that same poultry, which she is said to have tended with such maternal care.”
To these animadversions the censured bard replied, that the verse, in being irregular, the more nearly resembled the natural exclamations of real affliction; and that such irregularity had not only been excused, but even considered as a beauty in many modern productions. He owned, that the allusions might be obscure to some readers, and therefore he intended to explain them in notes, at the bottom of the page. As to the topical descriptions which the critic had censured so severely, he said they were inserted to amuse and relieve the imagination of the reader, that he might not be too much affected with the Pathos of the subject; and with regard to the line,
As if she common mother were of all,
far from carrying that ludicrous implication he had mentioned, it certainly conveyed the most amiable and parental idea of the deceased; and he did not doubt, that he should find his own opinion confirmed by that of the public, in a very comfortable sale of the work.
“So after all this profession of filial tenderness, (cried the epic bard) the world will have some reason to say, you wanted to make a job of your grandmother’s death.” “Perhaps (answered the other) I shall make a present of the copy to my bookseller.” “If you desire to be thought altogether disinterested in the affair, (resumed the critic) you ought to print a few copies at your own expence, and distribute them gratis among your friends; by these means, you will have as good a chance to see your own talents admired, and the memory of your grandame immortalized, as if you had sold the property of the piece for a thousand pounds.”
This proposal seemed to disconcert the elegiac writer; when the chairman interposing, “Pshaw! (said he) why the devil should he be more delicate in that respect, than those people who sit at the head of taste? In every single circumstance to which you have objected, he has expressly imitated, not to say copied, the celebrated production of the universal patron.” “What! (replied the other) you mean the famous Gosling Scrag Esq;49 son and heir of Sir Marmaduke Scrag, who seats himself in the chair of judgment, and gives sentence upon the authors of the age. I should be glad to know, upon what pretensions to genius this preheminence is founded. Do a few flimsy odes, barren epistles, pointless epigrams, and the superstitious suggestions of an half-witted enthusiast, intitle him to that eminent rank he maintains in the world of letters? or did he acquire the reputation of a wit, by a repetition of trite invectives against a minister, conveyed in a theatrical cadence, accompanied with the most ridiculous gestures, before he believed it was his interest to desert his master, and renounce his party? For my own part, I never perused any of his performances, I never saw him open his mouth in public, I never heard him speak in private conversation, without recollecting and applying these two lines in Pope’s Dunciad,
Dulness delighted, ey’d the lively dunce,
Remembring she herself was pertness once.50
Yet this antick piece of futility will decide dogmatically upon the merits of every new work; and if the author has not previously scratched himself into his favour, will pronounce upon it, with all the insolence and contempt of supercilious presumption. Nor is the levity of his head less provoking than his arrogance and self-conceit; the very performance which he yesterday applauded, will he to-morrow condemn through mere caprice; and that which he yesterday mentioned in terms of disdain, will he tomorrow extol to the skies, provided the author will humble himself so far, as to adore his superior genius, and meanly beg his protection. Never did he befriend a man of poetical merit, who did not court and retain his favour by such slavish prostitution, except one author, lately deceased;51 and even he extended his complaisance too far, in complimental lines, which the warmth of his gratitude inspired, though he would never submit to the tame criticisms of his patron, or offer such an outrage to his own judgment, as to adopt the alterations which he proposed.”
“One would imagine, (said the chairman) that you had made an unsuccessful application to his patronage; but, notwithstanding all this eloquent declamation, the truth of which I shall not pretend to invalidate, I do aver, that Gosling Scrag Esq; is at this day the best milch-cow that any author ever stroaked: for, over and above his vanity, which lays him open to the necessities of all writers who can tickle, though never so awkwardly, he possesses such a comfortable share of simplicity, or rather lack of penetration, as cannot fail to turn to account with those who practise upon it. Let a scribbler (for example) creep into his notice by the most abject veneration, implore his judgment upon some performance, assume a look of awful admiration at his remarks, receive and read his emendations with pretended extasy, exert himself officiously about his person, make interest to be employed in running upon his errands, bawl for him upon all occasions in common conversation,52 prose and rhime, sit in presence of this great man, with an apparent sense of his own nothingness, and when he opens his mouth, listen with a foolish face of praise;53 happy! if he has an opportunity to feed him with the soft pap of dedication, or by affecting an idiotical ignorance of the manners of life, to insinuate himself into his opinion, as a person absolutely detached from all worldly pursuits; like a sly brother of the quill, who, in going out, dropped a bank note upon the floor of his apartment, in such a manner, as that it could not escape the notice of Gosling, who viewing it accordingly, ‘Heavens! (said he, with his hands and eyes lifted up) what philosophical contempt must that man have for the pleasures of wealth!’ Yes, I insist upon it, these are arts which will never fail to engage the friendship of Mr. Scrag, which will be sooner or later manifested in some warm sine-cure, ample subscription, post or reversion; and I advise Mr. Spondy to give him the refusal of this same pastoral:54 who knows but he may have the good fortune of being listed in the number of his beef-eaters;55 in which case he may, in process of time, be provided for in the customs or church; when he is inclined to marry his own cook-wench, his gracious patron may condescend to give the bride away; and finally settle him in his old age, as a trading Westminister justice.”56
Mr. Spondy thanked the president for his wholesome counsel, which he assured him should not be neglected; and the evening being far advanced, the assembly broke up, without any other remarkable occurrence.