GIFFORD'S RETIREMENT FROM THE EDITORSHIP OF THE "QUARTERLY"--AND DEATH
It had for some time been evident, as has been shown in a previous
chapter, that Gifford was becoming physically incapable of carrying on
the Editorship of the _Quarterly Review_, but an occasional respite from
the pressure of sickness, as well as his own unwillingness to abandon
his connection with a work which he regarded with paternal affection,
and Murray's difficulty in finding a worthy successor, combined to
induce him to remain at his post.
He accordingly undertook to carry on his editorial duties till the
publication of the 60th number, aided and supported by the active energy
of Barrow and Croker, who, in conjunction with the publisher, did most
of the necessary drudgery.
In December 1823 Canning had written to say that he was in bed with the
gout; to this Gifford replied:
MY DEAR CANNING,
I wish you had a pleasanter bedfellow; but here am I on the sofa with a
cough, and a very disagreeable associate I find it. Old Moore, I think,
died all but his voice, and my voice is nearly dead before me; in other
respects, I am much as I was when you saw me, and this weather is in my
favour.... I have promised Murray to try to carry on the _Review_ to the
60th number; the 58th is now nearly finished. This seems a desperate
promise, and beyond it I will not, cannot go; for, at best, as the old
philosopher said, I am dying at my ease, as my complaint has taken a
consumptive turn. The vultures already scent the carcase, and three or
four _Quarterly Reviews_ are about to start. One is to be set up by
Haygarth, whom I think I once mentioned to you as talked of to succeed
me, but he is now in open hostility to Murray; another is to be called
the _Westminster Quarterly Review_, and will, if I may judge from the
professions of impartiality, be a decided Opposition Journal. They will
all have their little day, perhaps, and then drop into the grave of
their predecessors. The worst is that we cannot yet light upon a fit and
promising successor.
Ever, my dear Canning,
Faithfully and affectionately yours,
WILLIAM GIFFORD.
This state of matters could not be allowed to go on much longer;
sometimes a quarter passed without a number appearing; in 1824 only two
_Quarterlies_ appeared--No. 60, due in January, but only published in
August; and No. 61, due in April, but published in December. An
expostulation came from Croker to Murray (January 23, 1824):
"Have you made up _your mind_ about an editor? Southey has written to me
on the subject, as if you had, and as if he knew your choice; I do not
like to answer him before I know what I am to say. Will you dine at
Kensington on Sunday at 6?"
Southey had long been meditating about the editorship. It never appears
to have been actually offered to him, but his name, as we have already
seen, was often mentioned in connection with it. He preferred, however,
going on with his own works and remaining a contributor only. Politics,
too, may have influenced him, for we find him writing to Mr. Murray on
December 15, 1824: "The time cannot be far distant when the _Q.R._ must
take its part upon a most momentous subject, and choose between Mr.
Canning and the Church. I have always considered it as one of the
greatest errors in the management of the _Review_ that it should have
been silent upon that subject so long." So far as regarded his position
as a contributor, Southey expressed his opinion to Murray explicitly:
_Mr. Southey to John Murray_.
_October 25, 1824_.
"No future Editor, be he who he may, must expect to exercise the same
discretion over my papers which Mr. Gifford has done. I will at any time
curtail what may be deemed too long, and consider any objections that
may be made, with a disposition to defer to them when it can be done
without sacrificing my own judgment upon points which may seem to me
important. But my age and (I may add without arrogance) the rank which I
hold in literature entitle me to say that I will never again write under
the correction of any one."
Gifford's resignation is announced in the following letter to Canning
(September 8, 1824):
_Mr. W. Gifford to the Rt. Hon. G. Canning_.
_September 8, 1824_.
MY DEAR CANNING,
I have laid aside my Regalia, and King Gifford, first of the name, is
now no more, as Sir Andrew Aguecheek says, "than an ordinary mortal or a
Christian." It is necessary to tell you this, for, with the exception of
a dark cloud which has come over Murray's brow, no prodigies in earth or
air, as far as I have heard, have announced it.
It is now exactly sixteen years ago since your letter invited or
encouraged me to take the throne. I did not mount it without a trembling
fit; but I was promised support, and I have been nobly supported. As far
as regards myself, I have borne my faculties soberly, if not meekly. I
have resisted, with undeviating firmness, every attempt to encroach upon
me, every solicitation of publisher, author, friend, or friend's friend,
and turned not a jot aside for power or delight. In consequence of this
integrity of purpose, the Review has long possessed a degree of
influence, not only in this, but in other countries hitherto unknown;
and I have the satisfaction, at this late hour, of seeing it in its most
palmy state. No number has sold better than the sixtieth.
But there is a sad tale to tell. For the last three years I have
perceived the mastery which disease and age were acquiring over a
constitution battered and torn at the best, and have been perpetually
urging Murray to look about for a successor, while I begged Coplestone,
Blomfield, and others to assist the search. All has been ineffectual.
Murray, indeed, has been foolishly flattering himself that I might be
cajoled on from number to number, and has not, therefore, exerted
himself as he ought to have done; but the rest have been in earnest. Do
you know any one? I once thought of Robert Grant; but he proved timid,
and indeed his saintly propensities would render him suspected. Reginald
Heber, whom I should have preferred to any one, was snatched from me for
a far higher object.
I have been offered a Doctor's Degree, and when I declined it, on
account of my inability to appear in public, my own college (Exeter)
most kindly offered to confer it on me in private; that is, at the
Rector's lodgings. This, too, I declined, and begged the Dean of
Westminster, who has a living in the neighbourhood, to excuse me as
handsomely as he could. It might, for aught I know, be a hard race
between a shroud and a gown which shall get me first; at any rate, it
was too late for honours.
Faithfully and affectionately yours,
WILLIAM GIFFORD.
Mr. J.T. Coleridge had long been regarded as the most eligible
successor to Mr. Gifford, and on him the choice now fell. Mr. Murray
forwarded the reply of Mr. Coleridge which contained his acceptance of
the editorship to Mr. Gifford, accompanied by the following note:
_John Murray to Mr. Gifford_.
WHITEHALL PLACE,
_December 11, 1824_.
MY DEAR SIR,
I shall not attempt to express the feelings with which I communicate the
enclosed answer to the proposal which I suspect it would have been
thought contemptible in me any longer to have delayed, and all that I
can find to console myself with is the hope that I may be able to evince
my gratitude to you during life, and to your memory, if it so please the
Almighty that I am to be the survivor.
I am your obliged and faithful Servant,
JOHN MURRAY.
Mr. Murray lost no time in informing his friends of the new arrangement.
Gifford lived for about two years more, and continued to entertain many
kind thoughts of his friends and fellow-contributors: his intercourse
with his publisher was as close and intimate as ever to the end.
The last month of Gifford's life was but a slow dying. He was sleepless,
feverish, oppressed by an extreme difficulty of breathing, which often
entirely deprived him of speech; and his sight had failed. Towards the
end of his life he would sometimes take up a pen, and after a vain
attempt to write, would throw it down, saying, "No, my work is done!"
Even thinking caused him pain. As his last hour drew near, his mind
began to wander. "These books have driven me mad," he once said, "I must
read my prayers." He passed gradually away, his pulse ceasing to beat
five hours before his death. And then he slept out of life, on December
31, 1826, in his 68th year--a few months before the death of Canning.
Mr. Gifford desired that he should be buried in the ground attached to
Grosvenor Chapel, South Audley Street, where he had interred Annie
Davies, his faithful old housekeeper, but his friends made application
for his interment in Westminster Abbey, which was acceded to, and he was
buried there accordingly on January 8, 1827, immediately under the
monuments of Camden and Garrick. He was much richer at the time of his
death than he was at all aware of, for he was perfectly indifferent
about money. Indeed, he several times returned money to Mr. Murray,
saying that "he had been too liberal." He left £25,000 of personal
property, a considerable part of which he left to the relatives of Mr.
Cookesley, the surgeon of Ashburton, who had been to him so faithful and
self-denying a friend in his early life. To Mr. Murray he left £100 as a
memorial, and also 500 guineas, to enable him to reimburse a military
gentleman, to whom, jointly with Mr. Cookesley, he appears to have been
bound for that sum at a former period.
Gifford has earned, but it is now generally recognised that he has
unjustly earned, the character of a severe, if not a bitter critic.
Possessing an unusually keen discernment of genuine excellence, and a
scathing power of denunciation of what was false or bad in literature,
he formed his judgments in accordance with a very high standard of
merit. Sir Walter Scott said of his "Baviad and Mæviad, that "he
squashed at one blow a set of coxcombs who might have humbugged the
world long enough." His critical temper, however, was in truth
exceptionally equable; regarding it as his duty to encourage all that
was good and elevating, and relentlessly to denounce all that was bad or
tended to lower the tone of literature, he conscientiously acted up to
the standard by which he judged others, and never allowed personal
feeling to intrude upon his official judgments.
It need scarcely be said that he proved himself an excellent editor, and
that he entertained a high idea of the duties of that office. William
Jerdan, who was introduced to Gifford by Canning, said: "I speak of him
as he always was to me--full of gentleness, a sagacious adviser and
instructor, upon so comprehensive a scale, that I never met his superior
among the men of the age most renowned for vast information, and his
captivating power in communicating it." His sagacity and quickness of
apprehension were remarkable, as was also the extraordinary rapidity
with which he was able to eviscerate a work, and summarize its contents
in a few pages.
The number of articles which he himself wrote was comparatively small,
for he confined himself for the most part to revising and improving the
criticisms of others, and though in thus dealing with articles submitted
to him he frequently erased what the writers considered some of their
best criticisms, he never lost their friendship and support. He disliked
incurring any obligation which might in any degree shackle the
expression of his free opinions. In conjunction with Mr. Murray, he laid
down a rule, which as we have already seen was advocated by Scott, and
to which no exception has ever been made, that every writer in the
_Quarterly_ should receive payment for his contribution. On one
occasion, when a gentleman in office would not receive the money, the
article was returned. "I am not more certain of many conjectures," says
Jerdan, "than I am of this, that he never propagated a dishonest opinion
nor did a dishonest act."
Gifford took no notice of the ferocious attacks made upon him by Hunt
and Hazlitt. Holding, as he did, that inviolable secrecy was one of the
prime functions of an editor--though the practice has since become very
different--he never attempted to vindicate himself, or to reveal the
secret as to the writers of the reviews. In accordance with his plan of
secrecy, he desired Dr. Ireland, his executor, to destroy all
confidential letters, especially those relating to the _Review_, so that
the names of the authors, as well as the prices paid for each article,
might never be known.
In society, of which he saw but little, except at Mr. Murray's, he was
very entertaining. He told a story remarkably well; and had an
inexhaustible supply; the archness of his eyes and countenance making
them all equally good.
He had never been married; but although he had no children, he had an
exceeding love for them. When well, he delighted in giving juvenile
parties, and rejoiced at seeing the children frisking about in the
happiness of youth--a contrast which threw the misery of his own early
life into strange relief. His domestic favourites were his dog and his
cat, both of which he dearly loved. He was also most kind and generous
to his domestic servants; and all who knew him well, sorrowfully
lamented his death.
Many years after Gifford's death, a venomous article upon him appeared
in a London periodical. The chief point of this anonymous attack was
contained in certain extracts from the writings of Sir W. Scott,
Southey, and other eminent contemporaries of Mr. Gifford. Mr. R.W. Hay,
one of the oldest contributors to the _Quarterly_, was at that time
still living, and, in allusion to the article in question, he wrote to
Mr. Murray's son:
_Mr. R.W. Hay to Mr. Murray_.
_July 7, 1856_.
It is wholly worthless, excepting as it contains strictures of Sir W.
Scott, Southey, and John Wilson on the critical character of the late
Wm. Gifford. I by no means subscribe to all that is said by these
distinguished individuals on the subject, and I cannot help suspecting
that the high station in literature which they occupied rendered them
more than commonly sensitive to the corrections and erasures which were
proposed by the editor. Sir Walter (great man as he was) was perfectly
capable of writing so carelessly as to require correction, and both
Southey and John Wilson might occasionally have brought forth opinions,
on political and other matters, which were not in keeping with the
general tone of the _Quarterly Review_. That poor Gifford was deformed
in figure, feeble in health, unhappily for him there can be no denying,
but that he had any pleasure in tormenting, as asserted by some, that he
indulged in needless criticism without any regard to the feelings of
those who were under his lash, I am quite satisfied cannot justly be
maintained. In my small dealings with the _Review_, I only found the
editor most kind and considerate. His amendments and alterations I
generally at once concurred in, and I especially remember in one of the
early articles, that he diminished the number of Latin quotations very
much to its advantage; that his heart was quite in the right place I
have had perfect means of knowing from more than one circumstance,
_e.g._, his anxiety for the welfare of his friend Hoppner the painter's
children was displayed in the variety of modes which he adopted to
assist them, and when John Gait was sorely maltreated in the _Review_ in
consequence of his having attributed to me, incorrectly, an article
which occasioned his wrath and indignation, and afterwards was exposed
to many embarrassments in life, Gifford most kindly took up his cause,
and did all he could to further the promotion of his family. That our
poor friend should have been exposed throughout the most part of his
life to the strong dislike of the greatest part of the community is not
unnatural. As the _redacteur_ of the _Anti-Jacobin_, etc., he, in the
latter part of the last century, drew upon himself the hostile attacks
of all the modern philosophers of the age, and of all those who hailed
with applause the dawn of liberty in the French Revolution; as editor of
the _Quarterly Review_, he acquired in addition to the former hosts of
enemies, the undisguised hatred of all the Whigs and Liberals, who were
for making peace with Bonaparte, and for destroying the settled order of
things in this country. In the present generation, when the feeling of
national hatred against France has entirely subsided, and party feelings
have so much gone by that no man can say to which party any public man
belongs, it is impossible for anyone to comprehend the state of public
feeling which prevailed during the great war of the Revolution, and for
some years after its termination. Gifford was deeply imbued with all the
sentiments on public matters which prevailed in his time, and, as some
people have a hatred of a cat, and others of a toad, so our friend felt
uneasy when a Frenchman was named; and buckled on his armour of
criticism whenever a Liberal or even a Whig was brought under his
notice; and although in the present day there appears to be a greater
indulgence to crime amongst judges and juries, and perhaps a more
lenient system of criticism is adopted by reviewers, I am not sure that
any public advantage is gained by having Ticket of Leave men, who ought
to be in New South Wales, let loose upon the English world by the
unchecked appearance of a vast deal of spurious literature, which ought
to have withered under the severe blasts of Criticism.
Believe yours very truly,
R.W. HAY.