WASHINGTON IRVING--UGO FOSCOLO--LADY CAROLINE LAMB--"HAJJI BABA"--MRS.
MARKHAM'S HISTORIES.
The book trade between England and America was in its infancy at the,
time of which we are now writing, and though Mr. Murray was frequently
invited to publish American books, he had considerable hesitation in
accepting such invitations.
Mr. Washington Irving, who was already since 1807 favourably known as an
author in America, called upon Mr. Murray, and was asked to dine, as
distinguished Americans usually were. He thus records his recollections
of the event in a letter to his brother Peter at Liverpool:
_Mr. Washington Irving to Mr. Peter Irving_.
_August_ 19, 1817.
"I had a very pleasant dinner at Murray's. I met there D'Israeli and an
artist [Brockedon] just returned from Italy with an immense number of
beautiful sketches of Italian scenery and architecture. D'Israeli's wife
and daughter came in in the course of the evening, and we did not
adjourn until twelve o'clock. I had a long _tête-à-tête_ with old
D'Israeli in a corner. He is a very pleasant, cheerful old fellow,
curious about America, and evidently tickled at the circulation his
works have had there, though, like most authors just now, he groans at
not being able to participate in the profits. Murray was very merry and
loquacious. He showed me a long letter from Lord Byron, who is in Italy.
It is written with some flippancy, but is an odd jumble. His Lordship
has written some 104 stanzas of the fourth canto ('Childe Harold'). He
says it will be less metaphysical than the last canto, but thinks it
will be at least equal to either of the preceding. Murray left town
yesterday for some watering-place, so that I have had no further talk
with him, but am to keep my eye on his advertisements and write to him
when anything offers that I may think worth republishing in America. I
shall find him a most valuable acquaintance on my return to London."
A business in Liverpool, in which, with his brother, he was a partner,
proved a failure, and in 1818 he was engaged on his famous "Sketch
Book," which he wrote in England, and sent to his brother Ebenezer in
New York to be published there. The work appeared in three parts in the
course of the year 1819. Several of the articles were copied in English
periodicals and were read with great admiration. A writer in _Blackwood_
expressed surprise that Mr. Irving had thought fit to publish his
"Sketch Book" in America earlier than in Britain, and predicted a large
and eager demand for such a work. On this encouragement, Irving, who was
still in England, took the first three numbers, which had already
appeared in America, to Mr. Murray, and left them with him for
examination and approval. Murray excused himself on the ground that he
did not consider the work in question likely to form the basis of
"satisfactory accounts," and without this he had no "satisfaction" in
undertaking to publish.
Irving thereupon sought (but did not take) the advice of Sir W. Scott,
and entered into an arrangement with Miller of the Burlington Arcade,
and in February 1820 the first four numbers were published in a volume.
Miller shortly after became bankrupt, the sale of the book (of which one
thousand had been printed) was interrupted, and Irving's hopes of profit
were dashed to the ground. At this juncture, Walter Scott, who was then
in London, came to his help.
"I called to him for help as I was sticking in the mire, and, more
propitious than Hercules, he put his own shoulder to the wheel. Through
his favourable representations Murray was quickly induced to undertake
the future publication of the work which he had previously declined. A
further edition of the first volume was put to press, and from that time
Murray became my publisher, conducting himself in all his dealings with
that fair, open, and liberal spirit which had obtained for him the
well-merited appellation of the Prince of Booksellers." [Footnote:
Preface to the revised edition of "The Sketch Book."]
Irving, being greatly in want of money, offered to dispose of the work
entirely to the publisher, and Murray, though he had no legal protection
for his purchase, not only gave him £200 for it, but two months later
he wrote to Irving, stating that his volumes had succeeded so much
beyond his commercial estimate that he begged he would do him the favour
to draw on him at sixty-five days for one hundred guineas in addition to
the sum agreed upon. And again, eight months later, Murray made Irving a
second gratuitous contribution of a hundred pounds, to which the author
replied, "I never knew any one convey so much meaning in so concise and
agreeable a manner." The author's "Bracebridge Hall" and other works
were also published by Mr. Murray.
In 1822 Irving, who liked to help his literary fellow-countrymen, tried
to induce Mr. Murray to republish James Fenimore Cooper's novels in
England. Mr. Murray felt obliged to decline, as he found that these
works were pirated by other publishers; American authors were then
beginning to experience the same treatment in England which English
authors have suffered in America. The wonder was that Washington
Irving's works so long escaped the same doom.
In 1819 Mr. Murray first made the acquaintance of Ugo Foscolo. A native
of Zante, descended from a Venetian family who had settled in the Ionian
Islands, Foscolo studied at Padua, and afterwards took up his residence
at Venice. The ancient aristocracy of that city had been banished by
Napoleon Bonaparte, and the conqueror gave over Venice to Austria.
Foscolo attacked Bonaparte in his "Lettere di Ortis." After serving as a
volunteer in the Lombard Legion through the disastrous campaign of 1799,
Foscolo, on the capitulation of Genoa, retired to Milan, where he
devoted himself to literary pursuits. He once more took service--under
Napoleon--and in 1805 formed part of the army of England assembled at
Boulogne; but soon left the army, went to Pavia (where he had been
appointed Professor of Eloquence), and eventually at the age of forty
took refuge in England. Here he found many friends, who supported him in
his literary efforts. Among others he called upon Mr. Murray, who
desired his co-operation in writing for the _Quarterly_. An article, on
"The Poems of the Italians" was his first contribution. Mr. Thomas
Mitchell, the translator of "Aristophanes," desired Mr. Murray to give
Foscolo his congratulations upon his excellent essay, as well as on his
acquaintance with our language.
_Mr. Thomas Mitchell to John Murray_.
"The first time I had the pleasure of seeing M. Foscolo was at a _table
d'hôte_ at Berne. There was something in his physiognomy which very much
attracted nay notice; and, for some reason or another, I thought that I
seemed to be an object of his attention. At table, Foscolo was seated
next to a young Hanoverian, between whom and me a very learned
conversation had passed on the preceding evening, and a certain degree
of acquaintance was cemented in consequence. The table was that day
graced with the appearance of some of the Court ladies of Stuttgard, and
all passed off with the decorum usually observed abroad, when suddenly,
towards the conclusion of the feast a violent hubbub was heard between
M. Foscolo and his Hanoverian neighbour, who, in angry terms and with
violent gestures, respectively asserted the superior harmonies of Greek
and Latin. This ended with the former's suddenly producing a card,
accompanied with the following annunciation: 'Sir, my name is Ugo
Foscolo; I am a native of Greece, and I have resided thirty years in
Italy; I therefore think I ought to know something of the matter. This
card contains my address, and if you have anything further to say, you
know where I am to be found.' Whether Foscolo's name or manner daunted
the young Hanoverian, or whether he was only a bird of passage, I don't
know, but we saw nothing more of him after that day. Foscolo, after the
ladies had retired, made an apology, directed a good deal to me, who, by
the forms of the place, happened to be at the head of the table; a
considerable degree of intimacy took place between us, and an excellent
man I believe him to be, in spite of these little ebullitions."
Ugo Foscolo, who was eccentric to an excess, and very extravagant, had
many attached friends, though he tried them sorely. To Mr. Murray he
became one of the troubles of private as well as publishing life. He had
a mania for building, and a mania for ornamentation, but he was very
short of money for carrying out his freaks. He thought himself at the
same time to be perfectly moderate, simple, and sweet-tempered. He took
a house in South Bank, Regent's Park, which he named Digamma
Cottage--from his having contributed to the _Quarterly Review_ an
article on the Digamma--and fitted it up in extravagant style.
Foscolo could scarcely live at peace with anybody, and, as the result of
one of his numerous altercations, he had to fight a duel. "We are," Lady
Dacre wrote to Murray (December 1823), "to have the whole of Foscolo's
duel to-morrow. He tells me that it is not about a 'Fair lady': thank
heaven!"
Foscolo was one of Mr. Murray's inveterate correspondents--about
lectures, about translations, about buildings, about debts, about loans,
and about borrowings. On one occasion Mr. Murray received from him a
letter of thirteen pages quarto. A few sentences of this may be worth
quoting:
_Mr. Foscolo to John Murray_.
SOUTH BANK, _August_ 20, 1822.
"During six years (for I landed in England the 10th September, 1816) I
have constantly laboured under difficulties the most distressing; no one
knows them so well as yourself, because no one came to my assistance
with so warm a friendship or with cares so constant and delicate. My
difficulties have become more perplexing since the Government both of
the Ionian Islands and Italy have precluded even the possibility of my
returning to the countries where a slender income would be sufficient,
and where I would not be under the necessity of making a degrading use
of my faculties. I was born a racehorse; and after near forty years of
successful racing, I am now drawing the waggon--nay, to be the teacher
of French to my copyists, and the critic of English to my
translators!-to write sophistry about criticism, which I always
considered a sort of literary quackery, and to put together paltry
articles for works which I never read. Indeed, if I have not undergone
the doom of almost all individuals whose situation becomes suddenly
opposed to their feelings and habits, and if I am not yet a lunatic, I
must thank the mechanical strength of my nerves. My nerves, however,
will not withstand the threatenings of shame which I have always
contemplated with terror. Time and fortune have taught me to meet all
other evils with fortitude; but I grow every day more and more a coward
at the idea of the approach of a stigma on my character; and as now I
must live and die in England, and get the greater part of my subsistence
from my labour, I ought to reconcile, if not labour with literary
reputation, at least labour and life with a spotless name."
He then goes on to state that his debts amount to £600 or thereabouts,
including a sum of £20 which he owed to Mr. Murray himself. Then he must
have the money necessary for his subsistence, and he "finds he cannot
live on less than £400 per annum."
"My apartments," he continues, "decently furnished, encompass me with an
atmosphere of ease and respectability; and I enjoy the illusion of not
having fallen into the lowest circumstances.
I always declare that I will die like a gentleman, on a decent bed,
surrounded by casts (as I cannot buy the marbles) of the Venuses, of the
Apollos, and of the Graces, and the busts of great men; nay, even among
flowers, and, if possible, with some graceful innocent girl playing an
old pianoforte in an adjoining room. And thus dies the hero of my novel.
Far from courting the sympathy of mankind, I would rather be forgotten
by posterity than give it the gratification of ejaculating preposterous
sighs because I died like Camoens and Tasso on the bed of an hospital.
And since I must be buried in your country, I am happy in having insured
for me the possession during the remains of my life of a cottage built
after my plan, surrounded by flowering shrubs, almost within the
tumpikes of the town, and yet as quiet as a country-house, and open to
the free air. Whenever I can freely dispose of a hundred pounds, I will
also build a small dwelling for my corpse, under a beautiful Oriental
plane-tree, which I mean to plant next November, and cultivate _con
amore_. So far I am indeed an epicure; in all other things I am the most
moderate of men."
The upshot of the letter is, that he wishes Mr. Murray to let him have
£1,000, to be repaid in five years, he meanwhile writing articles for
the _Quarterly_--one-half of the payment to be left with the publisher,
and the remaining half to be added to his personal income. He concludes:
"In seeking out a way of salvation, I think it incumbent on me to
prevent the tyranny of necessity, that I might not be compelled by it to
endanger my character and the interest of a friend whose kindness I have
always experienced, and whose assistance I am once more obliged to
solicit."
Mr. Murray paid off some of his more pressing embarrassments--£30 to
Messrs. Bentley for bills not taken up; £33 7_s_. to Mr. Kelly the
printer; £14 to Mr. Antonini; and £50 to Foscolo's builder--besides
becoming security for £300 to his bankers (with whom Foscolo did
business), in order to ensure him a respite for six months. On the other
hand, Foscolo agreed to insure his life for £600 as a sort of guarantee.
"Was ever" impecunious author "so trusted before"? At this crisis in his
affairs many friends came about him and took an interest in the patriot;
Mr. Hallam and Mr. Wilbraham offered him money, but he would not accept
"gratuities" from them, though he had no objection to accepting their
"loans." Arrangements were then made for Foscolo to deliver a series of
lectures on Italian Literature. Everything was settled, the day
arrived, the room was crowded with a distinguished assembly, when at the
last moment Foscolo appeared without his MS., which he had forgotten.
The course of lectures, however, which had been designed to relieve him
from the pressure of his debts, proved successful, and brought him in,
it is said, as much as £1,000; whereupon he immediately set to work to
squander his earnings by giving a public breakfast to his patrons, for
which purpose he thought it incumbent on him, amongst other expenses, to
make a new approach and a gravelled carriage road to Digamma Cottage.
Ugo Foscolo lived on credit to the end of his life, surrounded by all
that was luxurious and beautiful. How he contrived it, no one knew, for
his resources remained at the lowest ebb. Perhaps his friends helped
him, for English Liberals of good means regarded him as a martyr in the
cause of freedom, one who would never bow the knee to Baal, and who had
dared the first Napoleon when his very word was law. But Foscolo's
friends without doubt became tired of his extravagance and his
licentious habits, and fell away from him. Disease at last found him
out; he died of dropsy at Turnham Green, near Hammersmith, in 1827, when
only in the fiftieth year of his age, and was buried in Chiswick
churchyard; but in June 1871 his body was exhumed and conveyed to
Florence, where he was buried in Santa Croce, between the tomb of
Alfieri and the monument of Dante.
Lady Caroline Lamb had continued to keep up her intimacy with Mr.
Murray; and now that she was preparing a new work for the press, her
correspondence increased. While he was at Wimbledon during summer, she
occasionally met literary friends at his house. She had already
published "Glenarvon," the hero of which was supposed to represent Lord
Byron, and was now ready with "Penruddock." "I am in great anxiety," she
wrote to Mr. Murray, "about your not informing me what Gifford says. I
think it might be a civil way of giving me my death-warrant--if
'Penruddock' does not."
Whether the criticism of Mr. Gifford was too severe, or whether Mr.
Murray was so much engaged in business and correspondence as to take no
notice of Lady Caroline Lamb's communication, does not appear; but she
felt the neglect, and immediately followed it up with another letter as
follows:
_Lady Caroline Lamb to John Murray_.
_December 8, 1822_.
MY DEAR AND MOST OBSTINATELY SILENT SIR,
From one until nine upon Tuesday I shall be at Melbourne House waiting
for you; but if you wish to see the prettiest woman in England,--besides
myself and William--be at Melbourne House at quarter to six, at which
hour we dine; and if you will come at half-past one, or two, or three,
to say you will dine and to ask me to forgive your inexorable and
inhuman conduct, pray do, for I arrive at twelve in that said home and
leave it at nine the ensuing morning. What can have happened to you that
you will not write?
The following letter from William Lamb (afterwards Lord Melbourne), the
long-suffering and generous husband of this wayward lady, refers to a
novel entitled "Ada Reis."
_The Honble. William Lamb to John Murray_.
_December 20, 1822_.
"The incongruity of, and objections to, the story of 'Ada Reis' can only
be got over by power of writing, beauty of sentiment, striking and
effective situation, etc. If Mr. Gifford thinks there is in the first
two volumes anything of excellence sufficient to overbalance their
manifest faults, I still hope that he will press upon Lady Caroline the
absolute necessity of carefully reconsidering and revising the third
volume, and particularly the conclusion of the novel.
"Mr. Gifford, I dare say, will agree with me that since the time of
Lucian all the representations of the infernal regions, which have been
attempted by satirical writers, such as 'Fielding's Journey from this
World to the Next,' have been feeble and flat. The sketch in "Ada Reis"
is commonplace in its observations and altogether insufficient, and it
would not do now to come with a decisive failure in an attempt of
considerable boldness. I think, if it were thought that anything could
be done with the novel, and that the faults of its design and structure
can be got over, that I could put her in the way of writing up this part
a little, and giving it something of strength, spirit, and novelty, and
of making it at once more moral and more interesting. I wish you would
communicate these my hasty suggestions to Mr. Gifford, and he will see
the propriety of pressing Lady Caroline to take a little more time to
this part of the novel. She will be guided by his authority, and her
fault at present is to be too hasty and too impatient of the trouble of
correcting and recasting what is faulty."
"Ada Reis" was published in March 1823.
Another of England's Prime Ministers, Lord John Russell, had in
contemplation a History of Europe, and consulted Mr. Murray on the
subject. A first volume, entitled "The Affairs of Europe," was published
without the author's name on the title-page, and a few years later
another volume was published, but it remained an unfinished work. Lord
John was an ambitious and restless author; without steady perseverance
in any branch of literature; he went from poems to tragedies, from
tragedies to memoirs, then to history, tales, translations of part of
the "Odyssey," essays (by the Gentleman who left his Lodgings), and then
to memoirs and histories again. Mr. Croker said of his "Don Carlos": "It
is not easy to find any poetry, or even oratory, of the present day
delivered with such cold and heavy diction, such distorted tropes and
disjointed limbs of similes worn to the bones long ago."
Another work that excited greater interest than Lord John Russell's
anonymous history was Mr. James Morier's "Hajji Baba." Mr. Morier had in
his youth travelled through the East, especially in Persia, where he
held a post under Sir Gore Ouseley, then English Ambassador. On his
return to England, he published accounts of his travels; but his "Hajji
Baba" was more read than any other of his works. Sir Walter Scott was
especially pleased with it, and remarked that "Hajji Baba" might be
termed the Oriental "Gil Bias." Mr. Morier afterwards published "The
Adventures of Hajji Baba in England," as well as other works of an
Eastern character. The following letter, written by the Persian Envoy in
England, Miiza Abul Hassan, shows the impression created by English
society on a foreigner in April 1824:
_Letter from the Persian Envoy, Mirza Abul Hassan, to the London
Gentleman without, who lately wrote letter to him and ask very much to
give answer_.
_April 3, 1824._
SIR, MY LORD,
When you write to me some time ago to give my thought of what I see good
and bad this country, that time I not speak English very well. Now I
read, I write much little better. Now I give to you my think. In this
country bad not too much, everything very good. But suppose I not tell
something little bad, then you say I tell all flattery--therefore I tell
most bad thing. I not like such crowd in evening party every night. In
cold weather not very good, now hot weather, much too bad. I very much
astonish every day now much hot than before, evening parties much crowd
than before. Pretty beautiful ladies come sweat, that not very good. I
always afraid some old lady in crowd come dead, that not very good, and
spoil my happiness. I think old ladies after 85 years not come to
evening party, that much better. Why for take so much trouble? Some
other thing rather bad. Very beautiful young lady she got ugly fellow
for husband, that not very good, very shocking. I ask Sr Gore [Sir Gore
Ouseley] why for this. He says me--"perhaps he very good man, not
handsome; no matter, perhaps he got too much money, perhaps got title."
I say I not like that, all very shocking. This all bad I know. Now I say
good. English people all very good people. All very happy. Do what they
like, say what like, write in newspaper what like. I love English people
very much, they very civil to me. I tell my King English love Persian
very much. English King best man in world, he love his people very good
much; he speak very kind to me, I love him very much. Queen very best
woman I ever saw. Prince of Wales such a fine elegant beautiful man. I
not understand English enough proper to praise him, he too great for my
language. I respect him same as my own King. I love him much better, his
manner all same as talisman and charm. All the Princes very fine men,
very handsome men, very sweet words, very affable. I like all too much.
I think the ladies and gentlemen this country most high rank, high
honour, very rich, except two or three most good, very kind to inferior
peoples. This very good. I go to see Chelsea. All old men sit on grass
in shade of fine tree, fine river run by, beautiful place, plenty to
eat, drink, good coat, everything very good. Sir Gore he tell me King
Charles and King Jame. I say Sir Gore, They not Musselman, but I think
God love them very much. I think God he love the King very well for
keeping up that charity. Then I see one small regiment of children go to
dinner, one small boy he say thanks to God for eat, for drink, for
clothes, other little boys they all answer Amen. Then I cry a little, my
heart too much pleased. This all very good for two things--one thing,
God very much please; two things, soldiers fight much better, because
see their good King take care of old wounded fathers and little
children. Then I go to Greenwich, that too good place, such a fine sight
make me a little sick for joy. All old men so happy, eat dinner, so
well, fine house, fine beds--all very good. This very good country.
English ladies very handsome, very beautiful. I travel great deal. I go
Arabia, I go Calcutta, Hyderabad, Poonah, Bombay, Georgia, Armenia,
Constantinople, Malta, Gibraltar. I see best Georgia, Circassian,
Turkish, Greek ladies, but nothing not so beautiful as English ladies,
all very clever, speak French, speak English, speak Italian, play music
very well, sing very good. Very glad for me if Persian ladies like them.
But English ladies speak such sweet words. I think tell a little
story--that not very good.
One thing more I see but I not understand that thing good or bad. Last
Thursday I see some fine horses, fine carriages, thousand people go to
look that carriages. I ask why for? They say me, that gentleman on boxes
they drive their own carriages. I say why for take so much trouble? They
say me he drive very well; that very good thing. It rain very hard, some
lord some gentleman he get very wet. I say why he not go inside? They
tell me good coachman not mind get wet every day, will be much ashamed
if go inside; that I not understand.
Sir, my Lord, good-night,
ABUL HASSAN.
Mr. Murray invariably consulted Mr. Barrow as to any works on voyages or
travels he was required to publish, and found him a faithful adviser.
The following expression of opinion, from one with so large an
experience, is interesting:
_Mr. J. Barrow to John Murray_.
_March 28, 1823._
"I need not tell you that caprice rather than merit governs the sale of
a work. If instances are wanting, I might quote those of Belzoni and
Hamilton. [Footnote: This reference probably refers to Walter Hamilton's
"Description of Hindostan and adjacent Countries," published a few years
before.] The first absolute trumpery when put in competition with the
second; yet the former, I believe, sold about ten times the number of
the latter."
Another little book published about this time has a curious history, and
illustrates the lottery of book publishing. Mrs. Markham's [Footnote:
This lady's real name was Mrs. Penrose.] "History of England" was first
published by Constable, but it fell still-born from the press. Mr.
Murray, discerning the merit of the work in 1824, bought the remainder
of 333 copies from Constable, and had it revised, corrected, and
enlarged, and brought out in an entirely new form. He placed it in his
list of school books, and pushed it among the teachers throughout the
country, until at length it obtained a very large and regular
circulation. The book has subsequently undergone frequent revision, and
down to the present date it continues to be a great favourite,
especially in ladies' schools.