The anonymous publication of a series of letters was, before this time, had recourse to for a political purpose. About the year 1722, when Charles, Duke of Grafton, was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, William Wood, a hardwareman and bankrupt, alleging the great want of copper money in that kingdom, procured a patent for coining one hundred and eight thousand pounds, to pass there as current money. This measure was thought by some persons to be a vile job from beginning to end, and that the chief procurers of the patent were to be sharers in the profits. Some anonymous letters were, therefore, written in 1724, under the assumed name of the Drapier, or Draper, warning the people not to receive the coin which was then sent over.
The real author of these letters, as afterwards appeared, was the celebrated Dr. Swift, Dean of St Patrick’s, who, indignant at the scheme, boldly withstood the designs of the grasping projector.
Wood’s project was, by virtue of a patent fraudulently obtained, to coin halfpence for Ireland, at about eleven parts in twelve under their real value; but which, even if ever so good, no man could have been obliged to receive in any payment whatever.
The first letter convinced all parties in Ireland that the admission of Wood’s money would prove fatal to the nation; some passages in the fourth, being thought to reflect upon the people in power, were selected for prosecution, and three hundred pounds offered, as a reward for the discovery of the author; but no clue was ever given by which such discovery could be made. The copies were always sent to the press by some obscure messenger, who never knew the person from whom he received them. The amanuensis alone was trusted, to whom, two years afterwards, the author gave an employment that brought him in forty pounds a-year.
The purpose of the letters was completely answered, Wood was compelled to relinquish his patent, and his halfpence were totally suppressed.
That the letters of “Junius,” “The Drapier,” and other political tracts, should have been published anonymously cannot be considered a very extraordinary caution on the part of the authors; though the public are always anxious to know the writers of such pamphlets as have been cleverly executed. But many authors of works purely literary, and which, after a perusal by the public, have been deservedly praised, have for a time kept themselves studiously concealed, as if unwilling to receive any public tribute of admiration; or, perhaps, amused by the variety of speculations afloat concerning them.
Dean Swift, at first, published his “Tale of a Tub,” anonymously; it speedily excited very considerable attention, some applauding, others reprobating its tendency and design. Fourteen years after this, “Gulliver’s Travels” appeared, which acquired a still more extended popularity. Even Swift’s most intimate friends were unacquainted with its origin; though many suspected who the author was. Gay wrote to him, saying, “About ten days ago, a book was published here of the travels of one Gulliver, which has been the conversation of the whole town ever since: the whole impression sold in a week, and nothing is more diverting than to hear the different opinions people give of it; though all agree in liking it extremely. It is usually said you are the author; but, I am told, the bookseller declares he knows not from what hand it came.”
In the summer of 1814, there appeared, anonymously, a novel, bearing the title of “Waverley.” It was written in a fascinating style, and was read with avidity by every one. It was speedily followed by other historical novels, as interesting, or more so, from the pen of “the Author of Waverley.” They succeeded each other with such prolific and astonishing rapidity, and were executed in such a masterly manner, that, at last, the curiosity of the public became extreme, to discover to whom they were indebted for them. Pamphlets on the subject, and speculations in periodicals, were abundant. Various persons were named; but the majority leaned to the opinion that Sir Walter Scott was the writer. It was not, however, till many years afterwards, that circumstances, arising out of the bankruptcy of his publishers, compelled him to throw aside the veil, and to stand forth the avowed author of productions which have spread his fame to the farthest limits of civilized society, and which can never cease to retain a strong hold upon the human mind.
From this brief notice of one extraordinary genius, who lived long to enjoy his fame, we must go back, nearly half a century, to make mention of another, who perished, unpraised and unfriended, before he reached the age of manhood. In the annals of literature there is no example recorded of precocious talent which can vie with that of Thomas Chatterton. He was born at Bristol, in St. Mary Redcliffe parish, on the 20th of November, 1752, and was the posthumous son of an individual who had been successively writing master to a classical school, singing man in Bristol Cathedral, and master of the Pyle Street Free-school. At the age of five years, he was apparently so stupid as to be deemed incapable of learning his letters. It was not till his latent powers were roused, by being shown the illuminated capitals of an old French manuscript, that he became anxious to acquire learning. Henceforth he needed no stimulant. Before he was eight years old, he was admitted into Colson’s school, the Christ’s Hospital of Bristol, where he read much in his intervals of leisure, and began to try his poetical skill. When he was somewhat under fifteen, he was apprenticed to Mr. Lambert, an attorney. It was while he was in this situation, and early in October, 1768, when the new bridge at Bristol was completed, that he gave to the world the first article of that series of literary forgeries which has immortalized him. It was sent to Farley’s Bristol Journal, and was called “a description of the Friars first passing over the old bridge: taken from an ancient manuscript.” He subsequently, from time to time, produced various poems of pre-eminent beauty, clothed in antique language. The language, however, was not that of any one period; nor was the style, nor in many instances the form of composition, that of the fifteenth century, the age to which he assigned them. He pretended that they were written by Thomas Rowley, a priest, and Thomas Canynge, and that they were copied from parchments, which his father had found in a large box, in a room over the chapel on the north side of Redcliffe church. While he was engaged in composing these poems, he was also a liberal contributor of prose and verse to the Magazines. Having, in his moody moments, avowed an intention of committing suicide, his master released him from his indentures, and Chatterton repaired to London, where he resolved to depend upon his pen for subsistence. At the outset, his hopes were raised to a high pitch; but they were soon blighted. In spite of his wonderful fertility, and his persevering exertions, he seems to have been unable to provide for the day that was passing over him. Privations and wounded pride drove him to despair, and, on the 25th of August, 1770, he put an end to his existence by poison. Editions of the pretended poems of Rowley were published by Mr. Tyrrwhit and Dean Milles; and a controversy was long and vehemently maintained on the question of their antiquity. There are now few persons who doubt that they are the work of Chatterton. That he was capable of producing them is sufficiently proved by his acknowledged poems.
We come now to a much more daring forgery, perpetrated by an individual whose talents were far inferior to those of Chatterton. Mr. Malone, in the preface to his edition of Shakspeare, had shown that Shakspeare died at the age of fifty-two in April 1616, leaving his daughter, and her husband Dr. J. Hall, executors. The will demonstrates, that he died possessed of “baubles, gewgaws, and toys to mock apes, &c.” Dr. Hall died in 1635, leaving a will, and bequeathing his library and manuscripts to J. Nash. “Here,” says Mr. Malone, “is a proof that the executor of Shakspeare’s will left a library and manuscripts behind him.” In a satisfactory manner did Mr. Malone trace down, from the public records, the legal transmission of the personal property of Shakspeare’s descendants to a recent period, from which he inferred, that, amongst the present generation of them, fragments might be found, if curiosity would prompt diligence to search the repositories of concealment. The search proved successful, and from the appearance of the manuscripts of Shakspeare in 1790, every moment was expectancy of more arrivals; in fact discovery succeeded discovery so fast, that Mr. Malone obtained documents enough to fill a folio. A painting of Shakspeare was also found, the very painting that enabled Droeshout to engrave the effigies of Shakspeare which was prefixed to the folio edition of his dramas, and of which Ben Jonson affirmed that