Having attained an university education by private benevolence, and
arrived at noble and powerful patronage by a circumstance purely
accidental Mr. Gifford possessed advantages which few in humble life
dare hope, and fewer aspire to achieve. He improved his learned leisure
and patrician aid, till, in 1802, he published his translation of
Juvenal, with a dedication to earl Grosvenor, and the preceding memoir.
In 1806, the work arrived to a second edition, and in 1817 to a third;
to the latter he annexed a translation of the Satires of Persius, which
he likewise dedicated to earl Grosvenor, with “admiration of his talents
and virtues.” He had previously distinguished himself by the “Baviad and
Mæviad,” a satire unsparingly severe on certain fashionable poetry and
characters of the day; and which may perhaps be referred to as the best
specimen of his powers and inclination. He edited the plays of
Massinger, and the works of Ben Jonson, whom he ably and successfully
defended from charges of illiberal disposition towards Shakspeare, and
calumnies of a personal nature, which had been repeated and increased by
successive commentators. He lived to see his edition of Ford’s works
through the press, and Shirley’s works were nearly completed by the
printer before he died.
When the “Quarterly Review” was projected, Mr. Gifford was selected as
best qualified to conduct the new journal, and he remained its editor
till within two years preceding his death. Besides the private
emoluments of his pen, Mr. Gifford had six hundred pounds a year as a
comptroller of the lottery, and a salary of three hundred pounds as
paymaster of the band of gentlemen-pensioners.
* * * * *
To his friend, Dr. Ireland, the dean of Westminster, who was the
depositary of Mr. Gifford’s wishes in his last moments, he addressed,
during their early career, the following imitation of the “Otium Divos
Rogat” of Horace.--“I transcribe it,” says Mr. Gifford, “for the press,
with mingled sensations of gratitude and delight, at the favourable
change of circumstances which we have both experienced since it was
written.”
Wolfe rush’d on death in manhood’s bloom,
Paulet crept slowly to the tomb;
Here breath, there fame was given:
And that wise Power who weighs our lives,
By _contras_, and by _pros_, contrives
To keep the balance even.
To thee she gave two piercing eyes,
A body, just of Tydeus’ size,
A judgment sound, and clear;
A mind with various science fraught,
A liberal soul, a threadbare coat,
And forty pounds a year.
To me, one eye, not over good;
Two sides, that, to their cost, have stood
A ten years’ hectic cough;
Aches, stitches, all the numerous ills
That swell the dev’lish doctors’ bills,
And sweep poor mortals off.
A coat more bare than thine; a soul
That spurns the crowd’s malign controul;
A fix’d contempt of wrong;
Spirits above affliction’s pow’r,
And skill to charm the lonely hour
With no inglorious song.
[12] The matter is of no consequence--no, not even to myself. From my
family I derived nothing but a name which is more, perhaps, than I
shall leave: but (to check the sneers of rude vulgarity) that family
was among the most ancient and respectable of this part of the
country, and, not more than three generations from the present, was
counted among the wealthiest.--Σχιας οναρ!
[13] He had gone with Bamfylde Moor Carew, then an old man.
[14] Her maiden name was Elizabeth Cain. My father’s christian name
was Edward.
[15] This consisted of several houses, which had been thoughtlessly
suffered to fall into decay, and of which the rents had been so long
unclaimed, that they could not now be registered unless by an
expensive litigation.
[16] Of my brother here introduced for the last time, I must yet say a
few words. He was literally,
The child of misery baptized in tears;
and the short passage of his life did not belie the melancholy presage
of his infancy. When he was seven years old, the parish bound him out
to a husbandman of the name of Leman, with whom he endured incredible
hardships, which I had it not in my power to alleviate. At nine years
of age he broke his thigh, and I took that opportunity to teach him to
read and write. When my own situation was improved, I persuaded him to
try the sea; he did so; and was taken on board the Egmont, on
condition that his master should receive his wages. The time was now
fast approaching when I could serve him, but he was doomed to know no
favourable change of fortune: he fell sick, and died at Cork.
[17] My indenture, which now lies before me, is dated the 1st of
January, 1772.
[18] The sum my master received was six pounds.
[19] As I have republished one of our old poets, it may be allowable
to mention that my predilection for the drama began at an early
period. Before I left school, I had written two tragedies, the Oracle
and the Italian.
My qualifications for this branch of the art may be easily
appreciated; and, indeed, I cannot think of them without a
smile.--These rhapsodies were placed by my indulgent friend, who
thought well of them, in the hands of two respectable gentlemen, who
undertook to convey them to the manager of ----: I am ignorant of
their fate. The death of Mr. Cookesley broke every link of my
connection with the majority of my subscribers, and when subsequent
events enabled me to renew them, I was ashamed to inquire after what
was most probably unworthy of concern.
[20] I began this unadorned narrative on the 15th of January, 1801:
twenty years have therefore elapsed since I lost my benefactor and my
friend. In the interval I have wept a thousand times at the
recollection of his goodness; I yet cherish his memory with filial
respect; and at this distant period, my heart sinks within me at every
repetition of his name.
[21] Many of these papers were distributed; the terms, which I extract
from one of them, were these: “The work shall be printed in quarto,
(without notes,) and be delivered to the Subscribers in the month of
December next.
“The price will be sixteen shillings in boards, half to be paid at the
time of subscribing, the remainder on delivery of the book.”
[22] I have a melancholy satisfaction in recording that this revered
friend and patron lived to witness my grateful acknowledgment of his
kindness. He survived the appearance of the translation but a very few
days, and I paid the last sad duty to his memory, by attending his
remains to the grave. To me--this laborious work has not been happy:
the same disastrous event that marked its commencement, has embittered
its conclusion; and frequently forced upon my recollection the
calamity of the rebuilder of Jericho, “He laid the foundation thereof
in Abiram, his first born, and set up the gates thereof in his
youngest son, Segub.” 1806.
* * * * *
~Omniana.~