Richard Jones, Jhones, or Johnes, English Printer. Was living in 1571.
John Dunton.
1659–1733.
Dryden’s translations of the classics had been most successful in selling off the “Miscellanies” very rapidly, and Tonson now induced the author, by the offer of very liberal terms, to commence a translation of Virgil. As usual, the preliminary terms were to be settled in a tavern—a custom between authors and booksellers that seems to have been universal. “Be ready,” writes Dryden, “with the price of paper, and of the books. No matter for any dinner; for that is a charge to you, and I care not for it. Mr. Congreve may be with us as a common friend.” There were two classes of subscribers, the first of whom paid five guineas each, and were individually honoured with the dedication of a plate, with their arms engraved underneath; the second class paid two guineas only. The first class numbered 101, and the second 250, and the money thus received, minus the expense of the engravings, was handed over to Dryden, who received in addition from Tonson fifty guineas a book for the Georgics and Æneid, and probably the same for the Pastorals collectively. But the price actually charged to the subscribers of the second class appears to have been exorbitant, and reduced the amount of Dryden’s profits to about twelve or thirteen hundred pounds—still a very large sum in those days. Frequent, however, were the disputes between them during the progress of the work. The currency at this time was terribly deteriorated. In October, 1695, the poet writes, “I expect fifty pounds in good silver: not such as I have had formerly. I am not obliged to take gold, neither will I; nor stay for it beyond four-and-twenty hours after it is due.” Good silver, however, was very scarce, and was at a premium of forty per cent; so after a year’s wrangling he had to put up with the fate of all who then sold labour for money. “The Notes and Queries,” continues Dryden, perhaps as a gibe at Jacob’s parsimony, “shall be short; because you shall get the more by saving paper.” Again he attacks him, this time half playfully:—“Upon trial I find all of your trade are sharpers, and you not more than others; therefore I have not wholly left you.” Tonson all along wished to dedicate the work to King William, but Dryden, a staunch Tory, would not yield a tittle of his political principles, so the bookseller consoled himself by slyly ordering all the pictures of Æneas in the engravings to be drawn with William’s characteristic hooked nose; a manœuvre that gave rise to the following:—
“Old Jacob, by deep judgments swayed,
To please the wise beholders,
Has placed old Nassau’s hook-nosed head
On young Æneas’ shoulders.
“To make the parallel hold tack,
Methinks there’s little lacking;
One took his father pick-a-back,
And t’other sent his packing.”
In December, 1699, Dryden finished his last work, the “Fables,” for which “ten thousand verses” he was paid the sum of two hundred and fifty guineas, with fifty more to be added at the beginning of the second impression. In this volume was included his Ode to St. Cecilia, which had first been performed at the Music Feast kept in Stationers’ Hall, on the 22nd of November, 1697.
In 1700 the poet died, but Tonson was by this time in affluent circumstances.
About the date of Dryden’s death, probably before it, as his portrait was included among the other members, the famous Kit-Cat Club was founded by Tonson. Various are the derivations of the club. The most circumstantial account of its origin is given by the scurrilous writer, Ned Ward, in his “Secret History of Clubs.” It was established, he says, “by an amphibious mortal, chief merchant to the Muses, to inveigle new profitable chaps, who, having more wit than experience, put but a slender value as yet upon their maiden performances.” (Tonson must have been a rare publisher if he found “new chaps” to be in any way profitable.) With the usual custom of the times, Tonson was always ready to give his author, especially upon concluding a bargain, wherewithal to drink, but he now proposed to add pastry in the shape of mutton pies, and, according to Ward, promises to make the meeting weekly, provided his clients would give him the first refusal of their productions. This generous proposal was very readily agreed to by the whole poetic class, and the cook’s name being Christopher, called for brevity Kit, and his sign the Cat and Fiddle, they very merrily derived a quaint denomination from puss and her master, and from thence called themselves the Kit-Cat Club. According to Arbuthnot, their toasting-glasses had verses upon them in honour of “old cats and young kits,” and many of these toasts were printed in Tonson’s fifth “Miscellany.” At first they met in Shire Lane, (Ward says Gray’s Inn Lane), and subsequently at the Fountain Tavern in the Strand. In a short time the chief men of letters having joined the club, “many of the quality grew fond of sharing the everlasting honour that was likely to crown the poetical society.” Sir Godfrey Kneller, himself a member, painted portraits of all the members, commencing with the Duke of Somerset, and these were hung round the club-room at Tonson’s country house at Water Oakeley, where the members of the club were in after-times wont to meet. The tone of the club-room became decidedly political, and interesting as it is, our space forbids us to do more than give the following lines from “Faction Displayed” (1705), which, by-the-way, quotes Dryden’s threatening triplet, already alluded to:—