Our friend further writes, that in a very short interval after this public exhibition of his talents, he met him at the rooms of a common acquaintance. He warmly expresses the astonishment he felt at perceiving the same man, whose external carriage and demeanour had in public so excited displeasure, enter into conversation and argument with a sort of mildness, which by the contrast looked like affectation. But thus it always was, and this justice is willingly rendered him; that however reprehensible his public principles, his asperity in political animosities, his want both of temper and judgment in his criticisms, his pertinacity of opinion, and the total absence of candour, nay, it may be said, of charity, in his measuring all virtue and all knowledge by the standard of his own prejudices—yet when seen in the bosom of his family, he certainly appeared to conduct himself with the greatest mildness. Nor did we ever hear of but one assertion to the contrary, but this is of such authority, that it is impossible not to yield it our assent. A learned and amiable judge, after the business of the assizes was over, paid a visit to Dorchester jail, at the time when W. was there, most justly suffering the penalty of an atrocious and abominable libel. He had not proceeded far into the interior of the prison, when he was annoyed by the loud complainings of a boy, apparently suffering from a severe beating. Upon enquiry, he found that it was Mr. W. inflicting parental and perhaps salutary chastisement, on his son. Allowance may, however, be reasonably made for the circumstances in which he then was placed, and which might have a tendency to sour the benignity of his temper. The impression, however, upon the amiable judge was, that such behaviour did not seem quite in character with the avowed principles of this friend of human kind, this perpetual exclaimer against war, and of every species of severity of man against man. The above anecdote was communicated by the judge himself, who witnessed the incident, and the gaoler said it was a daily occurrence.
His system of educating his children was certainly a little singular; but as it is only in part detailed in our manuscript, it is impossible to decide peremptorily upon its merits. One thing is thus specified:—“Calling upon him one morning when he resided at Hackney, I was shown into his library; I there found him standing over one of his daughters, who was not more, apparently, than fourteen; she had a volume of the octavo edition of Clark’s Homer before her. On my expressing some surprise, he desired me to examine her in Greek. I did so; she read a few lines very readily, construed them without hesitation, knew the derivation of the more complicated words, and discovered a familiar acquaintance with the Greek syntax.”
We have since heard that this young lady has invariably been of the most amiable character and manners, and filled a very useful and honourable station in society.
Our Sexagenarian had at different times intercourse by letter with W. and though they were notoriously and avowedly at variance, upon many essential and important matters, they lived for a time on terms of remarkably good fellowship. It was at length violently broken asunder by W. never to be renewed, and by the following occurrence. Our friend, as he represents the fact, had been for some time engaged in a literary work of considerable extent, and among other communications which he received from different friends, Mr. W. accommodated him with a few memoranda. We are willing to give any share of blame to our friend, which the severest reader may think proper to impute to him; but on the publication of this work, the few notes transmitted to him by Mr. W. did not appear of sufficient importance to demand, or to warrant, specific acknowledgment. He, however, thought far otherwise; and, in the first ebullition of his indignation, wrote the following curious epistle:—
“Mr. W. has seen Mr. ⸺’s last publication, in which, among other acknowledgments, there is no mention made of Mr. W.’s assistance. Mr. W. therefore sets down Mr. ⸺ for a complete barbarian, as actuated by some church and king motives, all of which, God be thanked, are coming to a speedy issue in this country.”
It may be asked of those who undertake to be the advocates of G. W.’s tenderness of heart, and benevolence of conduct, by what feelings he could possibly be influenced, when he wrote the above note. What could he intend by the sentence, “influenced by some church and king motives, all of which, God be thanked, are coming to a speedy issue in this country.”
As Dr. Johnson observed of Andrew Millar, when told that on receiving the last portion of the manuscript of the dictionary, he thanked God he had done with him (Johnson); so it may be observed in the present instance. But for what could W. thus piously thank his Maker, unless for the hope which he enjoyed by anticipation, that he might see the church overturned, and the king destroyed; which, as these things could not be accomplished without many scenes of bloodshed and misery, must seem alike creditable to the piety and humanity of him who prayed thus with himself.
A mutual friend, who had much influence with our Sexagenarian, and apparently possessed the same with W., kindly undertook to heal the breach; but it would not do—he was implacable—and the Philanthropist never forgave or forgot the supposed injury.
Of Porson there will be occasion to say a great deal in another place, but we are anxious to rescue his memory from an injurious and unjust aspersion cast upon it, in W.’s Posthumous Letters to Mr. Fox. We shall then have done with Mr. W.