I am about to enter on a very uninteresting subject: but all my friends
tell me that it is necessary to account for the long delay of the
following work; and I can only do it by adverting to the circumstances
of my life. Will this be accepted as an apology?
I know but little of my family and that little is not very precise: My
great-grandfather (the most remote of it, that I ever recollect to have
heard mentioned) possessed considerable property at Halsbury, a parish
in the neighbourhood of Ashburton; but whether acquired or inherited, I
never thought of asking, and do not know.
He was probably a native of Devonshire, for there he spent the last
years of his life; spent them, too, in some sort of consideration, for
Mr. T. (a very respectable surgeon of Ashburton) loved to repeat to me,
when I first grew into notice, that he had frequently hunted with his
hounds.[12]
My grandfather was on ill terms with him: I believe, not without
sufficient reason, for he was extravagant and dissipated. My father
never mentioned his name, but my mother would sometimes tell me that he
had ruined the family. That he spent much, I know; but I am inclined to
think, that his undutiful conduct occasioned my great-grandfather to
bequeath a considerable part of his property from him.
My father, I fear, revenged in some measure the cause of my
great-grandfather. He was, as I have heard my mother say, “a very wild
young man, who could be kept to nothing.” He was sent to the
grammar-school at Exeter; from which he made his escape, and entered on
board a man of war. He was reclaimed from this situation by my
grandfather, and left his school a second time, to wander in some
vagabond society.[13] He was now probably given up; for he was, on his
return from this notable adventure, reduced to article himself to a
plumber and glazier, with whom he luckily staid long enough to learn the
business. I suppose his father was now dead, for he became possessed of
two small estates, married my mother,[14] (the daughter of a carpenter
at Ashburton,) and thought himself rich enough to set up for himself;
which he did, with some credit, at South Molton. Why he chose to fix
there, I never inquired; but I learned from my mother, that after a
residence of four or five years, he thoughtlessly engaged in a dangerous
frolic, which drove him once more to sea: this was an attempt to excite
a riot in a Methodist chapel; for which his companions were prosecuted,
and he fled.
My father was a good seaman, and was soon made second in command in the
Lyon, a large armed transport in the service of government: while my
mother (then with child of me) returned to her native place, Ashburton,
where I was born, in April, 1756.
The resources of my mother were very scanty. They arose from the rent of
three or four small fields, which yet remained unsold. With these,
however, she did what she could for me; and as soon as I was old enough
to be trusted out of her sight, sent me to a schoolmistress of the name
of Parret, from whom I learned in due time to read. I cannot boast much
of my acquisitions at this school; they consisted merely of the contents
of the “Child’s Spelling Book:” but from my mother, who had stored up
the literature of a country town, which, about half a century ago,
amounted to little more than what was disseminated by itinerant
ballad-singers, or rather, readers, I had acquired much curious
knowledge of Catskin, and the Golden Bull, and the Bloody Gardener, and
many other histories equally instructive and amusing.
My father returned from sea in 1764. He had been at the siege of the
Havannah; and though he received more than a hundred pounds for prize
money, and his wages were considerable; yet, as he had not acquired any
strict habits of economy, he brought home but a trifling sum. The little
property yet left was therefore turned into money; a trifle more was got
by agreeing to renounce all future pretensions to an estate at
Totness;[15] and with this my father set up a second time as a glazier
and house painter. I was now about eight years old, and was put to the
freeschool, (kept by Hugh Smerdon,) to learn to read, and write and
cipher. Here I continued about three years, making a most wretched
progress, when my father fell sick and died. He had not acquired wisdom
from his misfortunes, but continued wasting his time in unprofitable
pursuits, to the great detriment of his business. He loved drink for the
sake of society, and to this he fell a martyr; dying of a decayed and
ruined constitution before he was forty. The town’s-people thought him a
shrewd and sensible man, and regretted his death. As for me, I never
greatly loved him; I had not grown up with him; and he was too prone to
repulse my little advances to familiarity, with coldness, or anger. He
had certainly some reason to be displeased with me, for I learned little
at school, and nothing at home, although he would now and then attempt
to give me some insight into his business. As impressions of any kind
are not very strong at the age of eleven or twelve, I did not long feel
his loss; nor was it a subject of much sorrow to me, that my mother was
doubtful of her ability to continue me at school, though I had by this
time acquired a love for reading.
I never knew in what circumstances my mother was left: most probably
they were inadequate to her support, without some kind of exertion,
especially as she was now burthened with a second child about six or
eight months old. Unfortunately she determined to prosecute my father’s
business; for which purpose she engaged a couple of journeymen, who,
finding her ignorant of every part of it, wasted her property, and
embezzled her money. What the consequence of this double fraud would
have been, there was no opportunity of knowing, as, in somewhat less
than a twelvemonth, my poor mother followed my father to the grave. She
was an excellent woman, bore my father’s infirmities with patience and
good humour, loved her children dearly, and died at last, exhausted with
anxiety and grief more on their account than her own.
I was not quite thirteen when this happened, my little brother was
hardly two; and we had not a relation nor a friend in the world. Every
thing that was left, was seized by a person of the name of Carlile, for
money advanced to my mother. It may be supposed that I could not dispute
the justice of his claims; and as no one else interfered, he was
suffered to do as he liked. My little brother was sent to the
alms-house, whither his nurse followed him out of pure affection: and I
was taken to the house of the person I have just mentioned, who was also
my godfather. Respect for the opinion of the town (which, whether
correct or not, was, that he had amply repaid himself by the sale of my
mother’s effects) induced him to send me again to school, where I was
more diligent than before, and more successful. I grew fond of
arithmetic, and my master began to distinguish me; but these golden days
were over in less than three months. Carlile sickened at the expense;
and, as the people were now indifferent to my fate, he looked round for
an opportunity of ridding himself of a useless charge. He had previously
attempted to engage me in the drudgery of husbandry. I drove the plough
for one day to gratify him; but I left it with a firm resolution to do
so no more, and in despite of his threats and promises, adhered to my
determination. In this, I was guided no less by necessity than will.
During my father’s life, in attempting to clamber up a table, I had
fallen backward, and drawn it after me: its edge fell upon my breast,
and I never recovered the effects of the blow; of which I was made
extremely sensible on any extraordinary exertion. Ploughing, therefore,
was out of the question, and, as I have already said, I utterly refused
to follow it.
As I could write and cipher, (as the phrase is,) Carlile next thought of
sending me to Newfoundland, to assist in a storehouse. For this purpose
he negotiated with a Mr. Holdsworthy of Dartmouth, who agreed to fit me
out. I left Ashburton with little expectation of seeing it again, and
indeed with little care, and rode with my godfather to the dwelling of
Mr. Holdsworthy. On seeing me, this great man observed with a look of
pity and contempt, that I was “too small,” and sent me away sufficiently
mortified. I expected to be very ill received by my godfather, but he
said nothing. He did not however choose to take me back himself, but
sent me in the passage-boat to Totness, from whence I was to walk home.
On the passage, the boat was driven by a midnight storm on the rocks,
and I escaped almost by miracle.
My godfather had now humbler views for me, and I had little heart to
resist any thing. He proposed to send me on board one of the Torbay
fishing-boats; I ventured, however, to remonstrate against this, and the
matter was compromised by my consenting to go on board a coaster. A
coaster was speedily found for me at Brixham, and thither I went when
little more than thirteen.
My master, whose name was Full, though a gross and ignorant, was not an
ill-natured, man; at least, not to me: and my mistress used me with
unvarying kindness; moved perhaps by my weakness and tender years. In
return, I did what I could to requite her, and my good will was not
overlooked.
Our vessel was not very large, nor our crew very numerous. On ordinary
occasions, such as short trips to Dartmouth, Plymouth, &c. it consisted
only of my master, an apprentice nearly out of his time, and myself:
when we had to go further, to Portsmouth for example, an additional hand
was hired for the voyage.
In this vessel (the Two Brothers) I continued nearly a twelvemonth; and
here I got acquainted with nautical terms, and contracted a love for the
sea, which a lapse of thirty years has but little diminished.
It will be easily conceived that my life was a life of hardship. I was
not only a “shipboy on the high and giddy mast,” but also in the cabin,
where every menial office fell to my lot: yet if I was restless and
discontented, I can safely say, it was not so much on account of this,
as of my being precluded from all possibility of reading; as my master
did not possess, nor do I recollect seeing during the whole time of my
abode with him, a single book of any description, except the Coasting
Pilot.
As my lot seemed to be cast, however, I was not negligent in seeking
such information as promised to be useful; and I therefore frequented,
at my leisure hours, such vessels as dropt into Torbay. On attempting to
get on board one of these, which I did at midnight, I missed my footing,
and fell into the sea. The floating away of the boat alarmed the man on
deck, who came to the ship’s side just in time to see me sink. He
immediately threw out several ropes, one of which providentially (for I
was unconscious of it) intangled itself about me, and I was drawn up to
the surface, till a boat could be got round. The usual methods were
taken to recover me, and I awoke in bed the next morning, remembering
nothing but the horror I felt, when I first found myself unable to cry
out for assistance.
This was not my only escape, but I forbear to speak of them. An escape
of another kind was now preparing for me, which deserves all my notice,
as it was decisive of my future fate.
On Christmas day (1770) I was surprised by a message from my godfather,
saying that he had sent a man and horse to bring me to Ashburton; and
desiring me to set out without delay. My master, as well as myself,
supposed it was to spend the holydays there; and he therefore made no
objection to my going. We were, however, both mistaken.
Since I had lived at Brixham, I had broken off all connection with
Ashburton. I had no relation there but my poor brother,[16] who was yet
too young for any kind of correspondence; and the conduct of my
godfather towards me, did not entitle him to any portion of my
gratitude, or kind remembrance. I lived therefore in a sort of sullen
independence on all I had formerly known, and thought without regret of
being abandoned by every one to my fate. But I had not been overlooked.
The women of Brixham, who travelled to Ashburton twice a week with fish,
and who had known my parents, did not see me without kind concern,
running about the beach in a ragged jacket and trousers. They mentioned
this to the people of Ashburton, and never without commiserating my
change of condition. This tale, often repeated, awakened at length the
pity of their auditors, and, as the next step, their resentment against
the man who had reduced me to such a state of wretchedness. In a large
town, this would have had little effect; but in a place like Ashburton,
where every report speedily becomes the common property of all the
inhabitants, it raised a murmur which my godfather found himself either
unable or unwilling to encounter: he therefore determined to recall me;
which he could easily do, as I wanted some months of fourteen, and was
not yet bound.
All this, I learned on my arrival; and my heart, which had been cruelly
shut up, now opened to kinder sentiments, and fairer views.
After the holydays I returned to my darling pursuit, arithmetic: my
progress was now so rapid, that in a few months I was at the head of the
school, and qualified to assist my master (Mr. E. Furlong) on any
extraordinary emergency. As he usually gave me a trifle on those
occasions, it raised a thought in me, that by engaging with him as a
regular assistant, and undertaking the instruction of a few evening
scholars, I might, with a little additional aid, be enabled to support
myself. God knows, my ideas of support at this time were of no very
extravagant nature. I had, besides, another object in view. Mr. Hugh
Smerdon (my first master) was now grown old and infirm; it seemed
unlikely that he should hold out above three or four years; and I fondly
flattered myself that, notwithstanding my youth, I might possibly be
appointed to succeed him. I was in my fifteenth year, when I built these
castles: a storm, however, was collecting, which unexpectedly burst upon
me, and swept them all away.
On mentioning my little plan to Carlile, he treated it with the utmost
contempt; and told me, in his turn, that as I had learned enough, and
more than enough, at school, he must be considered as having fairly
discharged his duty; (so, indeed, he had;) he added, that he had been
negotiating with his cousin, a shoemaker of some respectability, who had
liberally agreed to take me without a fee, as an apprentice. I was so
shocked at this intelligence, that I did not remonstrate; but went in
sullenness and silence to my new master, to whom I was soon after
bound,[17] till I should attain the age of twenty-one.
The family consisted of four journeymen, two sons about my own age, and
an apprentice somewhat older. In these there was nothing remarkable; but
my master himself was the strangest creature!--He was a Presbyterian,
whose reading was entirely confined to the small tracts published on the
Exeter Controversy. As these (at least his portion of them) were all on
one side, he entertained no doubt of their infallibility, and being
noisy and disputacious, was sure to silence his opponents; and became,
in consequence of it, intolerably arrogant and conceited. He was not,
however, indebted solely to his knowledge of the subject for his
triumph: he was possessed of Fenning’s Dictionary, and he made a most
singular use of it. His custom was to fix on any word in common use, and
then to get by heart the synonym, or periphrasis by which it was
explained in the book; this he constantly substituted for the simple
term, and as his opponents were commonly ignorant of his meaning, his
victory was complete.
With such a man I was not likely to add much to my stock of knowledge,
small as it was; and, indeed, nothing could well be smaller. At this
period, I had read nothing but a black letter romance, called Parismus
and Parismenus, and a few loose magazines which my mother had brought
from South Molton. With the Bible, indeed, I was well acquainted; it was
the favourite study of my grandmother, and reading it frequently with
her, had impressed it strongly on my mind; these then, with the
Imitation of Thomas à Kempis, which I used to read to my mother on her
death-bed, constituted the whole of my literary acquisitions.
As I hated my new profession with a perfect hatred, I made no progress
in it; and was consequently little regarded in the family, of which I
sunk by degrees into the common drudge: this did not much disquiet me,
for my spirits were now humbled. I did not however quite resign the hope
of one day succeeding to Mr. Hugh Smerdon, and therefore secretly
prosecuted my favourite study, at every interval of leisure.
These intervals were not very frequent; and when the use I made of them
was found out, they were rendered still less so. I could not guess the
motives for this at first; but at length I discovered that my master
destined his youngest son for the situation to which I aspired.
I possessed at this time but one book in the world: it was a treatise on
algebra, given to me by a young woman, who had found it in a
lodging-house. I considered it as a treasure; but it was a treasure
locked up; for it supposed the reader to be well acquainted with simple
equation, and I knew nothing of the matter. My master’s son had
purchased Fenning’s Introduction: this was precisely what I wanted; but
he carefully concealed it from me, and I was indebted to chance alone
for stumbling upon his hiding-place. I sat up for the greatest part of
several nights successively, and, before he suspected that his treatise
was discovered, had completely mastered it. I could now enter upon my
own; and that carried me pretty far into the science.
This was not done without difficulty. I had not a farthing on earth, nor
a friend to give me one: pen, ink, and paper, therefore, (in despite of
the flippant remark of Lord Orford,) were, for the most part, as
completely out of my reach, as a crown and sceptre. There was indeed a
resource; but the utmost caution and secrecy were necessary in applying
to it. I beat out pieces of leather as smooth as possible and wrought my
problems on them with a blunted awl: for the rest, my memory was
tenacious, and I could multiply and divide by it, to a great extent.
Hitherto I had not so much as dreamed of poetry: indeed I scarcely knew
it by name; and, whatever may be said of the force of nature, I
certainly never “lisp’d in numbers.” I recollect the occasion of my
first attempt: it is, like all the rest of my non-adventures, of so
unimportant a nature, that I should blush to call the attention of the
idlest reader to it, but for the reason alleged in the introductory
paragraph. A person, whose name escapes me, had undertaken to paint a
sign for an ale-house: it was to have been a lion, but the unfortunate
artist produced a dog. On this awkward affair, one of my acquaintance
wrote a copy of what we called verse: I liked it; but fancied I could
compose something more to the purpose: I made the experiment, and by the
unanimous suffrage of my shopmates was allowed to have succeeded.
Notwithstanding this encouragement, I thought no more of verse, till
another occurrence, as trifling as the former, furnished me with a
fresh subject: and thus I went on, till I had got together about a dozen
of them. Certainly, nothing on earth was ever so deplorable: such as
they were, however, they were talked of in my little circle, and I was
sometimes invited to repeat them, even out of it. I never committed a
line to paper for two reasons; first, because I had no paper; and
secondly--perhaps I might be excused from going further; but in truth I
was afraid, as my master had already threatened me, for inadvertently
hitching the name of one of his customers into a rhyme.
The repetitions of which I speak were always attended with applause, and
sometimes with favours more substantial: little collections were now and
then made, and I have received sixpence in an evening. To one who had
long lived in the absolute want of money, such a resource seemed a
Peruvian mine: I furnished myself by degrees with paper, &c., and what
was of more importance, with books of geometry, and of the higher
branches of algebra, which I cautiously concealed. Poetry, even at this
time, was no amusement of mine: it was subservient to other purposes;
and I only had recourse to it, when I wanted money for my mathematical
pursuits.
But the clouds were gathering fast. My master’s anger was raised to a
terrible pitch, by my indifference to his concerns, and still more by
the reports which were daily brought to him of my presumptuous attempts
at versification. I was required to give up my papers, and when I
refused, my garret was searched, and my little hoard of books discovered
and removed, and all future repetitions prohibited in the strictest
manner.
This was a very severe stroke, and I felt it most sensibly; it was
followed by another severer still; a stroke which crushed the hopes I
had so long and so fondly cherished, and resigned me at once to despair.
Mr. Hugh Smerdon, on whose succession I had calculated, died, and was
succeeded by a person not much older than myself, and certainly not so
well qualified for the situation.
I look back on that part of my life which immediately followed this
event, with little satisfaction; it was a period of gloom, and savage
unsociability: by degrees I sunk into a kind of coporeal torpor; or, if
roused into activity by the spirit of youth, wasted the exertion in
splenetic and vexatious tricks, which alienated the few acquaintances
whom compassion had yet left me. So I crept on in silent discontent,
unfriended and unpitied; indignant at the present, careless of the
future, an object at once of apprehension and dislike.
From this state of abjectness I was raised by a young woman of my own
class. She was a neighbour; and whenever I took my solitary walk, with
my Wolfius in my pocket, she usually came to the door, and by a smile,
or a short question, put in the friendliest manner, endeavoured to
solicit my attention. My heart had been long shut to kindness, but the
sentiment was not dead in me: it revived at the first encouraging word;
and the gratitude I felt for it was the first pleasing sensation which I
had ventured to entertain for many dreary months.
Together with gratitude, hope, and other passions still more enlivening,
took place of that uncomfortable gloominess which so lately possessed
me: I returned to my companions, and by every winning art in my power,
strove to make them forget my former repulsive ways. In this I was not
unsuccessful; I recovered their good will, and by degrees grew to be
somewhat of a favourite.
My master still murmured, for the business of the shop went on no better
than before: I comforted myself, however, with the reflection that my
apprenticeship was drawing to a conclusion, when I determined to
renounce the employment for ever, and to open a private school.
In this humble and obscure state, poor beyond the common lot, yet
flattering my ambition with day-dreams, which, perhaps, would never have
been realized, I was found in the twentieth year of my age by Mr.
William Cookesley, a name never to be pronounced by me without
veneration. The lamentable doggerel which I have already mentioned, and
which had passed from mouth to mouth among people of my own degree, had
by some accident or other reached his ear, and given him a curiosity to
inquire after the author.
It was my good fortune to interest his benevolence. My little history
was not untinctured with melancholy, and I laid it fairly before him:
his first care was to console; his second, which he cherished to the
last moment of his existence, was to relieve and support me.
Mr. Cookesley was not rich: his eminence in his profession, which was
that of a surgeon, procured him, indeed, much employment; but in a
country town, men of science are not the most liberally rewarded: he
had, besides, a very numerous family, which left him little for the
purposes of general benevolence: that little, however, was cheerfully
bestowed, and his activity and zeal were always at hand to supply the
deficiencies of his fortune.
On examining into the nature of my literary attainments, he found them
absolutely nothing: he heard, however, with equal surprise and pleasure,
that amidst the grossest ignorance of books, I had made a very
considerable progress in the mathematics. He engaged me to enter into
the details of this affair, and when he learned that I had made it in
circumstances of peculiar discouragement, he became more warmly
interested in my favour, as he now saw a possibility of serving me.
The plan that occurred to him was naturally that which had so often
suggested itself to me. There were indeed several obstacles to be
overcome; I had eighteen months yet to serve; my handwriting was bad,
and my language very incorrect; but nothing could slacken the zeal of
this excellent man; he procured a few of my poor attempts at rhyme,
dispersed them amongst his friends and acquaintance, and when my name
was become somewhat familiar to them, set on foot a subscription for my
relief. I still preserve the original paper; its title was not very
magnificent, though it exceeded the most sanguine wishes of my heart: it
ran thus, “A Subscription for purchasing the remainder of the time of
William Gifford, and for enabling him to improve himself in Writing and
English Grammar.” Few contributed more than five shillings, and none
went beyond ten-and-sixpence: enough, however, was collected to free me
from my apprenticeship,[18] and to maintain me for a few months, during
which I assiduously attended the Rev. Thomas Smerdon.
At the expiration of this period, it was found that my progress (for I
will speak the truth in modesty) had been more considerable than my
patrons expected: I had also written in the interim several little
pieces of poetry, less rugged, I suppose, than my former ones, and
certainly with fewer anomalies of language. My preceptor, too, spoke
favourably of me; and my benefactor, who was now become my father and my
friend, had little difficulty in persuading my patrons to renew their
donations, and to continue me at school for another year. Such
liberality was not lost upon me; I grew anxious to make the best return
in my power, and I redoubled my diligence. Now, that I am sunk into
indolence, I look back with some degree of scepticism to the exertions
of that period.
In two years and two months from the day of my emancipation, I was
pronounced by Mr. Smerdon, fit for the University. The plan of opening a
writing school had been abandoned almost from the first; and Mr.
Cookesley looked round for some one who had interest enough to procure
me some little office at Oxford. This person, who was soon found, was
Thomas Taylor, Esq. of Denbury, a gentleman to whom I had already been
indebted for much liberal and friendly support. He procured me the place
of Bib. Lect. at Exeter College; and this, with such occasional
assistance from the country as Mr. Cookesley undertook to provide, was
thought sufficient to enable me to live, at least, till I had taken a
degree.
During my attendance on Mr. Smerdon I had written, as I observed before,
several tuneful trifles, some as exercises, others voluntarily, (for
poetry was now become my delight,) and not a few at the desire of my
friends.[19] When I became capable, however, of reading Latin and Greek
with some degree of facility, that gentleman employed all my leisure
hours in translations from the classics; and indeed I scarcely know a
single school-book, of which I did not render some portion into English
verse. Among others, JUVENAL engaged my attention, or rather my
master’s, and I translated the tenth Satire for a holyday task. Mr.
Smerdon was much pleased with this, (I was not undelighted with it
myself,) and as I was now become fond of the author, he easily persuaded
me to proceed with him; and I translated in succession the third, the
fourth, the twelfth, and, I think, the eighth Satires. As I had no end
in view but that of giving a temporary satisfaction to my benefactors, I
thought little more of these, than of many other things of the same
nature, which I wrote from time to time, and of which I never copied a
single line.
On my removing to Exeter College, however, my friend, ever attentive to
my concerns, advised me to copy my translation of the tenth Satire and
present it, on my arrival, to the Rev. Dr. Stinton, (afterwards Rector,)
to whom Mr. Taylor had given me an introductory letter: I did so, and it
was kindly received. Thus encouraged, I took up the first and second
Satires, (I mention them in the order they were translated,) when my
friend, who had sedulously watched my progress, first started the idea
of going through the whole, and publishing it by subscription, as a
scheme for increasing my means of subsistence. To this I readily
acceded, and finished the thirteenth, eleventh, and fifteenth Satires:
the remainder were the work of a much later period.
When I had got thus far, we thought it a fit time to mention our design;
it was very generally approved of by my friends; and on the first of
January, 1781, the subscription was opened by Mr. Cookesley at
Ashburton, and by myself at Exeter College.
So bold an undertaking so precipitately announced, will give the reader,
I fear, a higher opinion of my conceit than of my talents; neither the
one nor the other, however, had the smallest concern with the business,
which originated solely in ignorance: I wrote verses with great
facility, and I was simple enough to imagine that little more was
necessary for a translator of Juvenal! I was not, indeed, unconscious of
my inaccuracies: I knew that they were numerous, and that I had need of
some friendly eye to point them out, and some judicious hand to rectify
or remove them: but for these, as well as for every thing else, I looked
to Mr. Cookesley, and that worthy man, with his usual alacrity of
kindness, undertook the laborious task of revising the whole
translation. My friend was no great Latinist, perhaps I was the better
of the two; but he had taste and judgment, which I wanted. What
advantages might have been ultimately derived from them, there was
unhappily no opportunity of ascertaining, as it pleased the Almighty to
call him to himself by a sudden death, before we had quite finished the
first Satire. He died with a letter of mine, unopened, in his hands.
This event, which took place on the 15th of January, 1781, afflicted me
beyond measure.[20] I was not only deprived of a most faithful and
affectionate friend, but of a zealous and ever active protector, on whom
I confidently relied for support: the sums that were still necessary for
me, he always collected; and it was to be feared that the assistance
which was not solicited with warmth, would insensibly cease to be
afforded.
In many instances this was actually the case: the desertion, however,
was not general; and I was encouraged to hope, by the unexpected
friendship of Servington Savery, a gentleman who voluntarily stood forth
as my patron, and watched over my interests with kindness and attention.
Some time before Mr. Cookesley’s death, we had agreed that it would be
proper to deliver out, with the terms of subscription, a specimen of the
manner in which the translation was executed.[21] To obviate any idea of
selection, a sheet was accordingly taken from the beginning of the first
Satire. My friend died while it was in the press.
After a few melancholy weeks, I resumed the translation; but found
myself utterly incapable of proceeding. I had been so accustomed to
connect the name of Mr. Cookesley with every part of it, and I laboured
with such delight in the hope of giving him pleasure, that now, when he
appeared to have left me in the midst of my enterprise, and I was
abandoned to my own efforts, I seemed to be engaged in a hopeless
struggle, without motive or end: and his idea, which was perpetually
recurring to me, brought such bitter anguish with it, that I shut up the
work with feelings bordering on distraction.
To relieve my mind, I had recourse to other pursuits. I endeavoured to
become more intimately acquainted with the classics, and to acquire some
of the modern languages: by permission too, or rather recommendation, of
the Rector and Fellows, I also undertook the care of a few pupils: this
removed much of my anxiety respecting my future means of support. I
have a heartfelt pleasure in mentioning this indulgence of my college:
it could arise from nothing but the liberal desire inherent, I think, in
the members of both our Universities, to encourage every thing that
bears even the most distant resemblance to talents; for I had no claims
on them from any particular exertions.
The lapse of many months had now soothed and tranquillized my mind, and
I once more returned to the translation, to which a wish to serve a
young man surrounded with difficulties had induced a number of
respectable characters to set their names; but alas, what a
mortification! I now discovered, for the first time, that my own
inexperience, and the advice of my too, too partial friend, had engaged
me in a work, for the due execution of which my literary attainments
were by no means sufficient. Errors and misconceptions appeared in every
page. I had, perhaps, caught something of the spirit of Juvenal, but his
meaning had frequently escaped me, and I saw the necessity of a long and
painful revision, which would carry me far beyond the period fixed for
the appearance of the volume. Alarmed at the prospect, I instantly
resolved (if not wisely, yet I trust honestly,) to renounce the
publication for the present.
In pursuance of this resolution, I wrote to my friend in the country,
(the Rev. Servington Savery,) requesting him to return the subscription
money in his hands to the subscribers. He did not approve of my plan;
nevertheless he promised, in a letter, which now lies before me, to
comply with it; and, in a subsequent one, added that he had already
begun to do so.
For myself, I also made several repayments; and trusted a sum of money
to make others, with a fellow collegian, who, not long after, fell by
his own hands in the presence of his father. But there were still some
whose abode could not be discovered, and others, on whom to press the
taking back of eight shillings would neither be decent nor respectful:
even from these I ventured to flatter myself that I should find pardon,
when on some future day I should present them with the Work, (which I
was still secretly determined to complete,) rendered more worthy of
their patronage, and increased by notes, which I now perceived to be
absolutely necessary, to more than double its proposed size.
In the leisure of a country residence, I imagined that this might be
done in two years: perhaps I was not too sanguine: the experiment,
however, was not made, for about this time a circumstance happened,
which changed my views, and indeed my whole system of life.
I had contracted an acquaintance with a person of the name of ----,
recommended to my particular notice by a gentleman of Devonshire, whom I
was proud of an opportunity to oblige. This person’s residence at Oxford
was not long, and when he returned to town I maintained a correspondence
with him by letters. At his particular request, these were enclosed in
covers, and sent to Lord Grosvenor: one day I inadvertently omitted the
direction, and his lordship, necessarily supposing the letter to be
meant for himself, opened and read it. There was something in it which
attracted his notice; and when he gave it to my friend, he had the
curiosity to inquire about his correspondent at Oxford; and, upon the
answer he received, the kindness to desire that he might be brought to
see him upon his coming to town: to this circumstance, purely accidental
on all sides, and to this alone, I owe my introduction to that nobleman.
On my first visit, he asked me what friends I had, and what were my
prospects in life; and I told him that I had no friends, and no
prospects of any kind. He said no more; but when I called to take leave,
previous to returning to college, I found that this simple exposure of
my circumstances had sunk deep into his mind. At parting, he informed me
that he charged himself with my present support, and future
establishment; and that till this last could be effected to my wish, I
should come and reside with him. These were not words, of course: they
were more than fulfilled in every point. I did go, and reside with him;
and I experienced a warm and cordial reception, a kind and affectionate
esteem, that has known neither diminution nor interruption from that
hour to this, a period of twenty years![22]
In his lordship’s house I proceeded with Juvenal, till I was called upon
to accompany his son (one of the most amiable and accomplished young
noblemen that this country, fertile in such characters, could ever
boast) to the continent. With him, in two successive tours, I spent many
years; years of which the remembrance will always be dear to me, from
the recollection that a friendship was then contracted, which time and a
more intimate knowledge of each other, have mellowed into a regard that
forms at once the pride and happiness of my life.
It is long since I have been returned and settled in the bosom of
competence and peace; my translation frequently engaged my thoughts, but
I had lost the ardour and the confidence of youth, and was seriously
doubtful of my abilities to do it justice. I have wished a thousand
times that I could decline it altogether; but the ever-recurring idea
that there were people of the description already mentioned, who had
just and forcible claims on me for the due performance of my engagement,
forbad the thought; and I slowly proceeded towards the completion of a
work in which I should never have engaged, had my friend’s inexperience,
or my own, suffered us to suspect for a moment the labour, and the
talents of more than one kind, absolutely necessary to its success in
any tolerable degree. Such as I could make it, it is now before the
public.
-------- majora canamus.
_End of the Memoir._
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