(Vol. vi., p. 578.)
Mrs. Mary Mackey was "a real person," and the widow of a conveyancer in
good practice. Of him she says (_Scraps of Nature_, p. 362.):
"The husband of poor Nature was a gentleman and an honest man, made a
fortune and spent it nearly, in which his wife had no share, for that
he governed and ruled the roast is well known to many: he had a noble
and generous soul, but always kept poor Nature's talents under a
bushel, where they shall never go again. He was old enough to be her
father, and ever treated her like a child."
He left only enough to purchase for her a small annuity. She was
uneducated, as she says, p. 274.:
"I never learned to write or spell,
Although I read and write so well;"
but laboured under the illusion that she was a poetess. She sought an
interview with Hewson Clarke by inviting him to meet a lady who admired his
writings in White Conduit Fields. He went, and was somewhat mortified to
find a matron of about forty-five, who placed her MS. in his hand, and
requested his candid opinion on a future day. She was lady-like and
sensible upon all matters except her own poems. Of course his opinion was
easily formed; but he assured her that, though the poems were very good,
they would not suit the public taste, and that she would be rash in
publishing. She took his advice, but unfortunately happened to know Peter
Pindar, who had been one of her husband's friends. She devotes a "scrap" to
a kiss which he gave her (p. 215.). He was blind, but on hearing some of
her poems read, he exclaimed, "Oh, my God, madam, there is nothing like
this in Shakspeare!" Such a compliment turned her head; she sold her
annuity to publish her book, and was reduced to extreme distress and
misery. This is stated in a notice of the book in _The British Stage_,
Sept. 1817, p. 210. The article, which is signed K., was written by the
editor, Mr. Jones Broughton of the India House, a friend of Hewson Clarke,
and once editor of _The Theatrical Inquisitor_.
I agree with G. C. that the "scraps" are _niaiseries_; as literature
nothing can be worse; but they are curious and, I think, deeply interesting
as genuine expressions of feeling. Mary Mackey was vain and weak, but
true-hearted, {110} generous, and affectionate; she conceals nothing, and
lays bare her poverty and her wish to marry again. She advertises herself
under the form of a pony for sale:
"For since she has been free by the death of her
Late owner, the poor thing has been a scamperer,
_And has often known the want of a good meal;_
_For she was highly fed in her old master's lifetime._
But he, alas! sleeps in peace, and peace be to his soul.
He was a good master and a real gentleman,
And left his little trotter to a merciless world:
She is gentle by Nature; _but the poor thing's heart_
_Is now breaking_; yet by kind treatment she might
Be made one of the most valuable and amusing
Things in Nature. She is a little foundered, but not to hurt
Or retard her movements; she is of some mettle and
High spirit, notwithstanding her hard fate,
She will even kick if roughly handled,
Nor would she suffer a dirty hand to touch her."--P. 105.
Again, she says:
"I wish I had an only friend,
To shield me from the winter's blast,
For should I live to see another,
He may cut keener than the last;
And I shall never wish to feel
A keener winter than the past."--P. 288.
She complains of a refusal from one to whom she wrote "to beg or solicit
some bacon," and says:
"To him she has given, _she never did lend_,
For her plan is to give to the foe or the friend."--P. 180.
Some one, probably Clarke, wrote an anonymous letter to dissuade her from
publishing. This she answers indignantly in prose, concluding:
"Should he be tempted to write again, let him sign his name, or where a
letter may find the kind-hearted creature, who has such a love for
Nature. His stinging advice was to run down the widow's soul's delight,
her dear scraps, which not a block in Nature can suppress"--P. 366.
Throughout the silliness run veins of feeling, respect for her husband,
gratitude for the smallest acts of kindness, and cheerfulness under want.
In some lines to a cat, apparently written during her husband's sickness,
she says:
"Now Grimalkin each day on her throne takes a seat,
With a smile on her face when her master can eat;
_But, alas! he eats little._"--P. 309.
Truly Mary Mackey must have been a good wife and friend, and I hope I may
claim some credit for extracting evidence thereof from perhaps the weakest
verses ever written. Her own opinion was different, and is thus expressed
in her
"PREFACE OR NO PREFACE.--No preface can be to the Scraps of Nature, for
God gave none when He formed creation, nor was there ever a book sent
into the world like the volume of Nature, since the creation of the
world, nor ever so bold an undertaking. It has never been seen by any
eye, nor corrected by any hand, but the eye and hand of the writer. No
volume has more humour," &c.
G. C.'s copy is defective. Mine has a portrait of Mrs. Mary Mackey, which
indicates considerable beauty, despite of very poor drawing and engraving,
and the execrable thin curls and short waist of 1809. The "falling tear is
visible;" but, had not the authoress told us what it was, it might be taken
for a mole or a wart. As the face is perfectly cheerful, and the "scrap" is
headed "Compliment to the Engraver," I hazard the conjecture that he was
instructed to add the tear to a miniature painted before she had been
compelled to shed tears on her own account.