Here we have a sample of clerical politeness, mixed up with heartfelt ranklings, because it was impossible for the divine to deny that he had been a staunch believer in the MSS. and the dupe of a boy of seventeen.
It is true that it was Dr. Warton, instead of himself, as stated in error in my “Confessions,” who passed a most pompous eulogy on my Shakspeare’s Profession of Faith: but it so happens that I was present when Drs. Parr and Warton together inspected the papers; and it was on that memorable occasion that the latter, after the documents had been twice read by both of them, made use of the following words, in which Dr. Parr not only concurred, but himself pronounced panegyrics equally forcible: “Sir, we have many fine things in our church service, and our Litany abounds in beauties; but here, sir, here is a man who has distanced us all.” As to a subsequent interview, stated to have taken place with my father, it is a gross falsehood; and was merely incorporated in the above note to palliate, as much as possible, the Doctor’s want of accuracy, in having accorded the sanction of his name to my MSS. These, indeed, were pitiable subterfuges for a churchman to descend to, and altogether unbecoming a person of the Doctor’s erudition, and high standing in society.
So much for the dead:—now for a living opponent. On the present occasion I have the honor to introduce to the reader, James Boaden, Esq. than whom a more fitting sample could not be ushered upon the tapis, to bring up the burthen of my tale with eclat; and prove, in their fullest extent, the assertions so frequently repeated, of the implacable hatred, and unremitting vindictiveness, uniformly practised in regard to me.
This person was one of the earliest and most frequent visitors at the house of my father, in Norfolk Street, after my production of the MSS. had excited a considerable sensation in the world. He was, at that period, editor of the “Oracle” newspaper, and in such capacity welcomed by my father, with all that ingenuousness for which he rendered himself conspicuous. The papers were laid before Mr. Boaden, who not only verbally, but by letter to my father, and in paragraphs out of number, inserted in his diurnal, expressed a thorough conviction of their genuine stamp, not only from external but internal evidence: neither did the MSS. alone produce conviction; but, to use his own words, they excited “a tremor of the purest delight”; such persuasion of their excellence being retained for months, “making all scepticism ridiculous.” Yet this man of correct judgment ultimately discovers that the whole was an error in judgment, which he excuses in his letter to George Steevens, with this very terse remark: that “credulity is no disgrace,” and “strong enthusiasm eager to believe.” Now, I should like to ask any man, boasting the smallest pretensions to common sense, whether, if one of Mr. Boaden’s Poems, or one of the Psalms, as translated by Sternhold and Hopkins, was produced in the hand-writing of the period of Elizabeth, or printed by Didot, in his most superlative style, on wire wove, &c.; I should like, I say, to inquire, whether the apparent antiquity on the one hand, or the modern blazonry displayed on the other, could add one iota to the merits of the composition? and whether, in case any man, standing forward as a literary character, was to attach the epithet of sublime to the doggerel of Boaden or Sternhold, he would not be regarded as a consummate blockhead for his pains.
In p. 5 of a pamphlet, entitled A Comparative Review of the Opinions of Mr. Boaden, in the Years 1795 and 1796, we find as follows, in reference to the subject of my papers:—
“Mr. Boaden is very liberal in acknowledging in his pamphlet, (what indeed he could not deny, because it would have remained recorded against him in his newspapers,) that he was, at first, strongly affected in favor of the MSS.; neither does he deny that he admitted their style, diction, and poetical spirit; but he leaves us to discover by what new light, by what cogency of argument, that which was once distinguished for “the utmost delicacy of passion and poetical spirit,” became afterwards “worthy of no other notice than that of being metrically smooth”; and, that which was “rationally pious and grandly expressed,” became “execrable jargon,” the “puerile quaintness and idiomatic poverty of a methodist rhapsody.” However, to enter into a detail respecting the numerous tergiversations of this writer would extend my Preface beyond all reasonable bounds; I, therefore, refer the reader to my “Confessions,” p. 176, &c. for a further elucidation of the consistency displayed by J. Boaden, Esq. during his literary interference at the period in question.”
I shall now suffer some six and twenty years to roll on, and again introduce the above personage to my reader’s notice, under the following circumstances. Between seven and eight years back, I was engaged in preparing a MS. for Mr. Triphook, then residing in Bond-street; at which period, it so occurred, that James Boaden, Esq. was occupied in forwarding through the press, his “Inquiry into the Authenticity of the various Pictures and Prints of Shakspeare,” of which work Mr. Triphook was also the publisher. During my frequent attendances in Bond-street, it is not surprising that I should encounter Mr. Boaden with feelings, heaven knows! widely different from those whereby that gentleman was actuated. Conceiving, however, in the frankness of my heart, that upwards of a quarter of a century must have cancelled all recollections of the past, and allayed every latent animosity, I spoke to Mr. Boaden without indulging a rancorous thought, notwithstanding the provocations received at his hands, whensoever he had found an opportunity of abusing me. After several casual meetings of this description in Mr. Triphook’s shop, fully aware of the work whereon Mr. Boaden was then occupied, I offered to furnish, through Mr. Triphook, an account of a variety of spurious oil paintings and miniatures of Shakspeare, that have been sent into the world; which MS. I remitted to Mr. Triphook, who handed the same to Mr. Boaden. The work of the latter gentleman, at length, appeared; but he had scrupulously avoided making use of my MS. thus gratuitously tendered; and for this plain reason: it would have debarred him from the superlative gratification of venting anew his malice against me; which he has done in different parts of the said work, but more particularly in the opening Preface, at the first and second pages of which appears as follows:—
“A period of my life, of something more than forty years, has been devoted to the study of Shakspeare’s works; and, on some outrageous liberties which, in the year 1796, were taken with his name, I had the honour to address a letter to the late George Steevens, Esq., which brought before the public the first detector of an impudent and very unskilful forgery. Upon that occasion, the great Commentator expressed a very agreeable opinion of my little work, by saying with his accustomed point: “Sir, you have very fairly gibbeted the culprit, and Mr. Malone will take him down and dissect him;”—A TASK (adds Mr. Boaden) PERFORMED BY HIM WITH AN ANATOMICAL MINUTENESS, WHICH LEFT NOT THE SMALLEST NERVE OF THAT BODY OF FRAUD UNEXPOSED TO THE PUBLIC EYE.”
Such was the charitable recompense, for a kindness tendered to a man, who, like myself, I conceived incapable of hoarding up malice and hatred for such a series of years; but, alas! beings of this description, I have had, like blood-hounds at my heels, goading me to the very brink of destruction. In regard to Mr. Boaden’s work, on the subject of the genuine portraits of our Bard, I think I may with veracity state, that had the writer inserted my MS. respecting the forged resemblances of the poet, that portion of the work would have proved by far the most entertaining part of his production, which has been refuted, in many parts, by Mr. Wyville; who, without possessing any of the boasted Greek and Latin of Mr. Boaden, or indeed a proper knowledge of English grammar, has proved the former writer altogether incompetent to discuss the comparative merits of oil paintings or engravings. The engravings illustrative of Mr. Boaden’s book, furnished by Mr. Triphook, constitute the only worth of that volume, which, from the publishing price, has fallen two-thirds in value, being now bought for the sake of the portraits it contains. Another of this book-maker’s lucubrations, is the life of his divinity the late J. P. Kemble, two volumes 8vo.; who, if we were to take the writer’s ipse dixit, was faultless as a man, and in the histrionic walk, something super-human. Now we happen to know somewhat concerning John Philip, as well as Mr. Boaden; and had it fallen to our lot to chronicle his sayings and doings, we should have paid a little more attention to that very necessary ingredient in biographical writing, called veracity; that is to say, we should have incorporated the sombre and shadowy tints, in colouring the picture, and should not have pourtrayed John Philip, like a Chinese limner—all whiteness. We have known of such things, as theatrical Bacchanalian orgies, held in taverns under the Piazzas, when the bottle has circulated, until
“The grey-eyed morn peep’d o’er the eastern sky”: