which is entirely exempt from those burdens. At least their angry feelings will have time and opportunity to subside, in a country where there are no tumultuous meetings in populous towns of unemployed manufacturers; but where all their neighbours, as well as themselves, have something better to do (as Mr. Gourlay found by experience) than to set about new modelling the constitution;— where the chief reform called for is to convert forests into cornfields, in which no one will hinder them from laying the axe to the root of the evil;—and in which the desire of novelty may be fully gratified, without destroying established institutions;-where, in short, the whole structure of society is to be built up, without being previously pulled down.

ART. V.-1. Anecdotes, Observations, and Characters of Books and Men, collected from the Conversation of Mr. Pope, and other eminent Persons of his Time. By the Rev. Joseph Spence. Now first published from the original Papers, with Notes and a Life of the Author by Samuel Weller Singer. London. 8vo.

1820.

2. Observations, Anecdotes, and Characters of Books and Men. By the Rev. Joseph Spence. Arranged with Notes by Edmund Malone, Esq. London. 8vo. 1820.

3. The invariable Principles of Poetry, in a Letter addressed to Thomas Campbell, Esq. occasioned by some Critical Observations in his Specimens of British Poets, particularly relating to the Poetical Character of Pope. By the Rev. W. L. Bowles. 1819.

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T length, after a tedious retention by one possessor, and, as we now find, a concealment by another, appear the Anecdotes of Spence;' an authentic collection which has hitherto remained unpublished, but not unreferred to, during the many years in which it has enjoyed a sort of paradoxical existence. The history of books is often curious, but that of the present is mysterious; and the mystery originates in the nature of the work itself, which was wished to be, and not to be, suppressed. The late Duke of Newcastle was supposed, till Mr. Singer's volume appeared, to be the sole possessor of the manuscript; and his Grace having liberally submitted the volume to Dr. Johnson for public use, when it became a desideratum among the lovers of literary history, it was sullenly announced as a sealed book. Mr. Malone, however, was afterwards allowed to rifle it for his own purposes, and some imperfect transcripts, or capricious selections, crept abroad from time to time.

The close of the history of this publication seems as mysterious

as

as its progress; for, after contending with the obstructions of half a century, Two editions appeared on the same day! Mr. Singer, the only person who could elucidate the matter, has not informed us how he himself obtained the manuscript, and we can only supply the vacuum by the report which has reached us. Spence, who was known to have been engaged during many years in the design of this work, had prepared it for posthumous publication, and conditionally sold it to Dodsley: but his executors, among whom was his old friend Bishop Lowth, uniting with his patron Lord Lincoln, afterwards Duke of Newcastle, prevailed on the bookseller to relinquish his claim, as the time, it was alleged, had not yet arrived when the anecdotes could be safely published.* Joseph Warton formerly told us that these Anecdotes were sealed up and delivered into the hands of the late Duke of Newcastle;' and this manuscript was long appreciated as an unique. It now appears, that it was no such precious thing, but a transcript of part of the Anecdotes which had been prepared for the press; the originals of which, with valuable supplements, were deposited in 'a chest with all Spence's manuscript remains. From this chest (which was in the Lowth family) we have heard that a late speculator in fine editions had the dexterity to extract it, and probably designed it, like the Arabian Nights, for some splendid publication adapted to the literary dandyism of Bond-street. What means he used, we have not heard, and cannot pretend to guess. It was a sacred deposit, and such the late Bishop had always considered it; for, during this long interval, no one appears even to have suspected its existence. How it travelled down to the present publisher might perhaps form an amusing incident in the story. But such is the history of the original Spence. That of the Malone Manuscript is no less enveloped in mystery.

The Newcastle Manuscript, as we have said, was put into the

* The lovers of literary history may be gratified by our giving the particulars, which we are enabled to do, and which have not been published. The manuscript was deposited in the library of the Duke of Newcastle, to whom Spence had been private tutor, by his three executors, the Bishop of Oxford, Dr. Ridley, and Mr. Rolle, and the following elegant address, probably by Bishop Lowth, assigning their reasons, is pasted in the first volume of the Anecdotes.

The Bishop of Oxford, Dr. Ridley, and Mr. Rolle, executors of the late Mr. Spence, present their most respectful compliments to the Duke of Newcastle, and beg his Grace's acceptance of the manuscript fair copy of Mr. Spence's Anecdotes. They did not think it advisable to publish this work, and they were confirmed in this opinion as they had reason to believe that it coincided with his Grace's judgment. But that it may not run the hazard of being lost or of falling into improper hands, they beg leave to commit it to his Grace's custody; and they propose to act in the same manner, with his Grace's approbation, in regard to any other of his papers, which they think it right to preserve; being persuaded that in so doing they shall act most agreeably to Mr. Spence's sentiments, and shall place his literary remains in those hands to which his love, respect, and gratitude would certainly have directed them.-May 15, 1771.'

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hands

hands of Dr. Johnson, who drew from it many of those personal traits and those domestic incidents which, with such skill, he has introduced into his admirable life of Pope. Yet while Johnson said, I consider this communication as a favour worthy of public acknowledgment,' he studiously concealed the name of the noble benefactor; and it is understood that the Duke felt that his own zeal claimed a more particular notice than an acknowledgment, where a pomp in the manner served only to conceal a penury in the feeling. It was therefore (as we have seen) somewhat indignantly closed. Mr. Malone, however, when employed on the Life of Dryden, had sufficient influence to procure its use, and made, not as Mr. Singer supposes, a complete transcript,' but a selection; to which he added some useful notes. This copy was presented to the late Mr. Beloe, who sold it to Mr. Murray. For more than two years past it was announced as in the press, while the publisher persisted in its suppression; an incident quite in keeping with the rest of this strange history. Motives of delicacy probably induced him to refrain from publishing what the noble possessor of the (supposed) original would not sanction, while it was rumoured that the precious 'unique' was mislaid or lost; and the editor, who was no more, could no longer authenticate the transcript. When Mr. Singer's Spence was unexpectedly announced, it probably ceased to be a matter of choice; and the Malone Manuscript, with all its imperfections on its head, was eagerly hurried through the press.

Mr. Singer has prepared his enlarged edition with greater care; and has given proofs in its progress of the skill and intelligence ever necessary in such a work, of which however the authenticity is the main recommendation.

It is evident that these 'Anecdotes of Books and Men' were designed by Spence to belong to the numerous race of ANA, of which though we possess but few in our literature, yet those few are excellent. Our vivacious neighbours, more fond of talk, found a pleasure, when silent, in writing down the talk of others, even to their Arlequiniana, for Harlequin too must talk in France. Of their flock, the bell-wether is the Menagiana. Yet the four volumes, improved by the learned editor La Monnoye, are eclipsed by the singular splendour of Boswell's Johnson.-On this work we must make one observation. An Italian, a man of letters and of genius, compares Johnson to some uncommon bear, and Boswell to the Savoyard who goes shewing him about.' This sarcasm has been anticipated by some of our own wits; but wits are bad critics! All other Ana are usually confined to a single person, and chiefly run on the particular subject connected with that person; but Boswell's is the Ana of all mankind: nor can the world

speedily

speedily hope to receive a similar gift; for it is scarcely more probable to find another Boswell than another Johnson.

It must not be concealed that such collections as this of Spence have frequently spread an alarm in their circles. It is a case of conscience whose solution we leave to some future Paley, how far may be practised the liberty of chronicling conversations, or perpetuating domestic incidents. Is friendship, placed under the rose, no longer to look up to that emblem of secrecy and silence? When our heart moves with our lips, or circulates with the warmth of wine, are our unpremeditated thoughts, our negligent assertions, and our playful deceptions, the mere odds and ends of our fancy, all our humours, good and evil, to be permanently recorded? Are love and hatred to be the short-hand writers of social life, and are men to be brought to a bar without even a suspicion that they are undergoing a trial? These observations extend to the writers of Diaries, from Cole, the literary antiquary, to Bubb Dodington, the jobbing statesman. The very precaution which some of them. used, (and Cole among the rest,) that their papers should not be opened till a given period, only served to protract the torture of the sufferers; while the calumny begins to live just when the calumniated had passed the power of vindication. We believe that these examples have occasioned the destruction of much of this kind of secret history by those who trembled at the imprudence of future editors, or dreaded the consequences of their own too faithful chronicle. The late Dean of Christ-Church, Cyril Jackson, an extraordinary character, who, if he did not feel the ambition, at least possessed the genius of governing, and who (after a reign of twenty years) retired, like the imperial philosopher of antiquity, into the uttermost solitude, appearing to forget all men and all things, and himself as much forgotten as the greatness of the character he had left behind him allowed, had kept, it is said, a Diary of his life, which, in an unfortunate hour, he destroyed, from an apprehension that his records, by the imprudence of friends, or the maliciousness of cynics, might be productive of some of the mischief which he had witnessed in those of others.

Even Spence had long raised similar alarms by bis 'Anecdotes.' Not only had his own friends (as we have seen) protested against their publication, (for they were then treading on ashes whose fires were not extinct,) but even some of the editors of Pope have vented their outcries against opening this box of Pandora. Listen to Mr. Bowles, a sort of sentimental critic :-'I tremble for every character when I hear any thing of "Spence's Anecdotes." Neither friend nor foe are spared. He seems to have opened his mouth and his ears to every thing Pope told him; and it makes the heart sick to think how

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how often Pope has altered his tone,' &c. The book has at last appeared! and if the reverend gentleman still 'trembles,' it can be only to find that the Pope of 'Spence's Anecdotes' is not the Pope of Mr. Bowles. Spence, who seems once to have wavered on the propriety of publishing them, has written on the leaf of one of the paper-books All the people well acquainted with Mr. Pope looked on him as a most friendly, open, charitable, and generoushearted man; all the world, almost, that did not know him, were got into a mode of having very different ideas of him: how proper this makes it to publish these anecdotes after my death.' The truth is, that Pope, alive to the most generous feelings, was excessively irritable in whatever touched his art. Poetry was the delightful craft of his life, and the craftsman had his mysteries. This great poet furnishes not the only instance where bland and tender dispositions may be associated with that keen searching spirit, so irritable and caustic: the habits of the mind are often distinct from the habits of the man.

Mr. Singer has furnished a copious life of Spence. The fresh materials which the writer has been enabled to bring to his work, and particularly some interesting evidence of the true character and feelings of Spence, render it valuable; but though the hand of the artist is faithful in tracing the lines, it wants a delicacy of touch; and as a composition, we regret to add, it is often inelegant and incorrect: the narrative moves on with great caution, it is true, but it moves heavily, and frequently reminds us of those alphabetical lives which we consult as a sort of troublesome convenience. Dr. Birch, to whose zeal our literature owes more than can here be acknowledged, a critic of the day familiarly observed, Tom was a dead hand at a Life;' the lineal descent has not been enlivened by any fortunate cross-breed,

'And Tom the second reigns like Tom the first.'

Of

There was a moral loveliness in the character and the life of Spence, which could not fail to engage the affections of such an elegant scholar as Lowth, and those of many other men of genius. Cultivating literature and the arts with the ardour and the playfulness of a lover, it was fortunate that the vicissitudes of life rendered him a traveller. Having retired from college to a small living, he was invited at various times to accompany several distinguished persons in their tours through Europe; but the feelings of this pilgrim of taste were purely domestic; and amidst the interesting objects around him, nothing occupied his mind so entirely as his mother and his garden:-a mother, in whom all his affections were concentrated, and a garden, his ideal 'Tempe ;' a work, under which title he proposed to illustrate gardening in all ages, and which he was meditating and writing all his days! these, amidst his foreign enjoyments,