LONDON, SATURDAY, AUGUST 11, 1877. CONTENTS. - N° 189. of course generally vindications of his book against Lady Bradshaigh's criticisms. These notes, by being published severed from the text, lose a NOTES:-Richardson's "Clarissa" Annotated, 101-Shak-good deal of their interest. In order, however, Parish Registers-Craven Buildings, Drury Lane-A False Reading in Chaucer-The Word "Place," 106-For Naturalists, 107. QUERIES:-To Freemasons in General-Manor of Chesterfield, &c., 107-Chamillard-Walter Scott-Mr. Gladstone and Earl Beaconsfield-Sneezing-Marrow's Law Treatise Nalson's MSS.-Pilgrims' Hatch-A Sale in 1072-"The Fortune Teller"-De Quincey-Nelson's Death and the Prince of Wales, 108-"Nothing like leather"-Authors Wanted, 109. that any reader who pleases may connect them with the text of the original, I have given the page in this, the first edition, where they occur, as well as the number of the letter, and generally the first line of the paragraph to which the MS. observations are annexed. To have given the different paragraphs of the original in extenso would have been an undue invasion of your space. I know not whether I have sent you the remarks which place Lady Bradshaigh in the most favourable REPLIES:-" Acre" and "Furlong," 109-William, First light, for I have chosen chiefly those remarks of Duke of Queensberry, 110-Mottoes on Book-Plates, 111-hers to which Richardson has objected. I did so George and Joseph Weston: Denis Duval: F. H. de La in the belief that anything from his pen would Motte-Obscure Expressions, 112-D'Albanie of England, 113-J. M. W. Turner-The Title of "Esquire"-"You possess most interest for your readers; but her know who the critics are," &c.—The Trial of Charles I., 114 observations strike me as being always to the -Byron and Shelley in the Environs of Geneva-Bugby Family-Edgar A. Poe, 115-To "Thou"-Wolfe's Grand- point and characteristic of a right-thinking, father-The Holmen Clavel-Gibbon and Whitaker-Sir noble-hearted lady, who takes the liveliest interest Henry Hayes, 116-Ms. Letters of Milton-Beating the Bounds-Twitten"-J. Rivett-The Long-Tailed Titmouse in Clarissa's fortunes, canvasses her acts, and -The Dunchurch Firs - Basill Kennett, 117-Descendants of denounces in no measured terms the faults of those the Regicides-Arms of the Isle of Man-Howell's Letters, by whose acts or neglect she fell, and she does this Napoleon-" Mazagran "-Heraldic Book-plates-"Than as a Preposition, 118-"Semper Eadem "-Dr. Hook's Mis- under the magic spell of the novelist, as if she leading Statement-"Faint heart never won fair lady"were canvassing actual proceedings taking place Authors Wanted, 119. under her own eyes in which she took the liveliest Notes on Books, &c. interest. Clarissa to her is no abstract creation, but real flesh and blood, for whose misfortunes she has the liveliest pity, and on whose oppressors she showers her denunciations. Notes. RICHARDSON'S "CLARISSA" ANNOTATED. Lady Bradshaigh, of Haigh Hall, Wigan, the patroness of Richardson, the novelist, was an ancestress, through one of her daughters, of the Earl of Balcarres, and by another of W. A. Mackinnon, Esq., of Hyde Park Place and of Acryse Place, Kent. To the latter have descended a portrait of Richardson, in oil, painted for Lady Bradshaigh, also a family group of Sir Roger Bradshaigh and his lady and children,† and what is more interesting still, a presentation copy, from the author, of the first edition of Clarissa, with copious MS. notes by Lady Bradshaigh and by Richardson himself, of which I now send you some extracts, in order that you and your readers may judge whether the whole be not of sufficient importance to be embodied in some future edition of that novel. When Mr. Mackinnon kindly lent me the volumes to peruse, I expected to find only the comments of Lady Bradshaigh herself; but I soon came across notes in a different hand, commenting on Lady Bradshaigh's observations, and which are decidedly by Richardson himself. In making for you a selection I have chosen generally those notes on a passage of the novel which are by Lady Bradshaigh and Richardson too; those of the latter being See Richardson's Correspondence, vol. vi. p. 23. + Ibid., p. 13. Vol. I. Letter 10, p. 61. But is not his inducing you to receive his letters and to answer them a great point gained?Lady B. Very justly observed. Letter 16, p. 99. What can I say? What can I do?Lady B. Indeed, in this argument, she might have been born a Harlowe, a tyrannical Harlowe. Letter 21, p. 146, at the end of the letter.-Lady B. The rest all act up to their characters and their favourite I think Mrs. Harlowe the worst person in the family. motives; but she against the dictates of her heart, out of cowardice, and with great cruelty to her child. Letter 25, p. 161. I charge you, let not this letter be found. Burn it. There is too much of the mother in it...-Lady B. The mother is dead and bury'd.— Richardson. Too smart. Letter 30, p. 193. To avoid that, if there were no other way, I would most willingly be bury'd alive.-Lady B. If the marriage with Solmes had taken place what could have prevented murder? It would not then have been in Clarissa's power to have done it.-Richardson. That is going too far. Letter 41, p. 280. As a certain appearance at church just lately... Richardson. And is not bad consequences to happen if she marries Solmes? What could more irritate Lovelace? What but murder must ensue ? Vol. II. P. 93. Would you believe it? Betty tells me that I am to be refused, &c.-Lady B. Betty to be present when all these things were said. Absurd!-Richardson. Do you think so, madam? Characters considered. Letter 40, p. 274. I had been inquiring privately how to procure a conveyance, &c.-Lady B. This conveyance should have been procured and no appointment made with Lovelace, then would she have been blameless.Richardson. I did not want her to be wholly blameless. Vol. III. P. 68. For God's sake, Madam, for a soul's sake!. I am the greatest villain on earth.-Richardson. A devil of a fellow. P. 73, at the end of letter 4.- Lady B. I wonder she has not positively said she was not married.Richardson. Your ladiship read the preceding pages of this vol., but read p. 77. Letter 6, p. 79. Lovel. O Captain, you may say any thing before this company. This good girl (looking at the maidservant) will help us to all we want.-Lady B. She should have withdrawn too. Very wrong to speak before servants what has already been spoken. - Ricliardson. It was a part of Lovelace's scheme to engage servants. O, madam !-But in general you are right. Vol. VI. Letter 1, p. 16. I was offering the key...... Fly, my dearest life!......and whom I supposed to be my brother, my father, and their servants......-Lady B. Could she suppose people in pursuit of her, seeing them together, would have been so long in opening the door? The key should have been left in the door as an hindrance, or why should they not appear?-Richardson. Dear madam! Cl.'s terror, L.'s hurrying her on, hardly allowed her to make this cool remark; expecting every moment to see come out those she dreaded most to see. Letter 16, p. 100. Charming creature, thought I, but I Letter 53, p. 210. Heard of him! Ay, sir, we have all charge thee......-Lady B. Methinks I am sorry she has given him so much reason for what he says.--Richard-heard of him.-Lady B. This I think too low and too son. O, madam! that Clarissa's character and Lovelace's ludicrous upon this occasion, for it would go from Miss Howe to her friend and must appear to his disadvantage. too were better understood. His, at least, might from -Richardson. What should now appear to his dishis own pen in every letter he writes to Belford. Letter 29, at the end of it.-Lady B. She should not advantage? There are who are fond of this Death scene. Letter 56, p. 223. I have an excellent mother as well irritate in her circumstances, nor yet palliate. It was not a time for severity.-Richardson. O, let her, let hering to such an excess looks like affectation, though in father......-Lady B. I admire modesty, but disqualify use her own discretion in her treatment of such a (vexing?) villain, as he opens to her. Letter 31, p. 167. I remember, my dear.......I should not be disinclined to go to London, did I know anybody there.—Lady B. A family so numerous, so near London, and to know nobody there of credit, is improbable.Richardson. I do not know that this is so very improbable in Cl. situation. She might not know persons whom the elders of her family might be well acquainted with, but who for that very reason (she represented as she was by them) could not be resorted to by her. Letter 31, p. 170. No, he said: None that was fit for me, or that I should like.-Lady B. That is overdone. If he knew never a respectable house, his relations must. Belford's were the same as his own.-Richardson. Surely, madam, if you had considered all that is said in this page only, you would not have made this remark. Letter 31, p. 169. At the bottom of it, and below, "This indifference of his to London I cannot but say."Lady B. Knowing his wicked end, how every good thing he says raises my indignation against him-a deceitful, practised villain.-Richardson. Now, madam, at last you see him! Vol. V. Letter 4, p. 66. The woman, as I had owned our marriage -Lady B. This was a poor device, for she must think he would have followed her and perhaps have forced her into a coach where he had a mind.-Richardson. Device does your ladyship call it? Clarissa was above all devices. In such a distressed situation, and with a vile fellow who had convinced her of his vileness, she had nothing in her head or heart but to get from him. She might be in hope to raise the country upon him as she once threatened. Such a lovely () creature, pursued by a young fellow, [if she ?] had been cast into the protection of a sensible man, would not have been imposed upon so easily as the two foolish women were whose curiosity and inquisitiveness was more than their fellow feeling for one of their own sex who was only running away from a handsome rake; no hated character with women in general, as Lovelace had often experienced. Device! I don't love your ladyship just there. Poor Clarissa to be classed with Lovelace (a word or two here illegible) no more. P. 67. I lifted up my hands and eyes in silent admiration of her.-Richardson. Lovelace-I won't say what was in my mind to say. as this character it is not so, though a fault.-Richardson. This narrative must stand, I believe, as it is. I humbly think it is for its true simplicity one of the most affecting passages in the book. P. 223. I was the joy of their hearts.-Lady B. Now here is a little characteristic vanity.-Richardson. O, madam! Surely, surely. poor......I used to make glad their hearts; I never shut P. 223. In short, I was beloved by everybody. The my hand to their distress, wherever I was..... But now I am poor myself.-Richardson underscores "Now I am poor myself," and adds, "Who can stand this, if he thinks he sees and hears her say it?" P. 223. So, Mrs. Smith, so, Mrs. Lovick, I am not married......God I hope will forgive me......and even the man who has ingratefully and by dreadful perjuries...... Richardson (in obvious allusion to Lady Bradshaigh's preceding remark, "little characteristic vanity") says, "This, I hope, is not uncharacteristic." drop the bank-note behind her chair....—Lady B. Iam Letter 57, p. 226. But the prettiest whim of all was to with him here.-Richardson. Sometimes your ladiship can allow for Belford, but when his awkwardness is owing to his fear of offending and to modesty-poor Belford-Lovelace, however, was right to ridicule him. But I cannot bear that your ladiship should be with him anywhere. See p. 251, Belford's own notice of this. Letter 57, pp. 226-7. But one consolation arises to me ....I once, thou makest me break off with saying.Richardson. This, dear madam, I wonder Lovelace should take such notice of, and that it had not force enough to spare for Clarissa the charge of uncharacteristic vanity, in the page preceding it, from a lady I ever must admire and love. Letter 57, p. 227. I fell in by accident with a colonel who, I believe......I will not lie abed when anything joyous is going forward.-Lady B. Unfeeling wretch.Richardson. A pretty fellow for all that with several gay hearts of both sexes. A certain merry Doctor of the Civil Law once called Clarissa to his sisters, before me and other ladies present, a vixen. A cursed vixen, said he, what a very pretty fellow has she ruined. Mowbray will be with him here. Letter 68, pp. 246-7. Lady B. crosses out all in these pages from "Meantime I have a little project come into my head of a new kind," down to the end of the last paragraph but one, ending with the words "yet without her own knowledge." In one of these paragraphs Lovelace says, "I am sick at heart for a frolick, and have no doubt but this will be an agreeable one."-Lady B. Sick for a frolick! Never was it so (a doubtful word here). Out with the whole design. It is shameless. Silly. Letter 75, p. 277. But if still perhaps more disgusted than before......as if the petitioned to had not as good a right to reject as the petitioner to ask.-Lady B. In this case they cannot have the right of a Christian to reject. -Richardson. Christian, madam! Very few Christians had Clarissa to deal with. Letter 77, p. 282-3. Time, in the words of Congreve, thou sayst, will give increase to her afflictions. So once, in a pulpit, I heard one of the former very vehemently declare himself to be a dead dog; when every man, woman, and child were convinced to the contrary by his howling. Richardson puts in the margin, "Whitfield." Letter 115, p. 366, at the bottom of this page, after "I have often messages and inquiries......on his offering to mediate between your family and you."-Lady B. Surely it is a wrong thing to make everybody unable to stir from home who could be of any comfort to her. I cannot see why. I feel at this moment as if I was just going to write privately to enforce the necessity of Mrs. Norton's attendance.--Richardson. Excellent Lady B. But of what service would the interview be now? Had they met I must have drawn a scene that every reader could not have stood. I believe I have made the excellent creature give a better reason for (dispensing ?) with their visits than (here several words undecipherable). If I have not I could. Letter 113, p. 417. Mr. James Harlowe married a lady of family.... (litigation).-Lady B. May he be thoroughly Inortified and die a beggar. Lady Bradshaigh, in the margin opposite Richardson's apology at the end of the work for the length of his history of Clarissa, says, "I could have read of the volume, on the fly-leaves and cover, she seven vols. more with pleasure." And at the end states in what way she would have had the plot laid, and that she certainly would not have killed Clarissa. Lady Bradshaigh (Richardson's Correspondence, vi. 24), in allusion to one letter of several from his correspondents which Richardson had lent to her, says : "But Mr. J. Channing; who the deuse are you? This man has given me a mortifying stroke in the following words: The desire to have the piece end happily, as it is called, will ever be the test of a wrong head and a vain mind.""" Franklin had not then, I think, said that a man might thank God for his vanity; but, as to her ladyship's head and heart, I leave you and your readers to judge from my meagre abstracts. It has just been pointed out to me that another volume of Richardson's Correspondence consists of letters written by Lady Bradshaigh under a pseudonym, her object being to prevail upon Richardson to spare Clarissa from dishonour and death. I have been struck with the beauty and interest of these letters, which seem to me to place her ladyship nearly on a level with the best of our SAMUEL CROMPTON. This important note, written in exceedingly small characters, seems to me to settle the authenticity of the remarks I have ascribed to Richardson, and the handwriting of all that I have ascribed to him agrees exactly with the fac-simile of Richardson's in vol. vi. of his Correspondence. Before I con-letter-writers. clude I will give one or two specimens of Lady Bradshaigh's briefer criticisms : Vol. VII. Letter 73, p. 245. O the sweet creature, said she, and is it come to this?-Lady B. Now it is the sweet creature. A hard-hearted wretch, in whose power it was to have saved her. P. 247. I cannot find words to express what we all suffer on the mournfullest news that ever was communicated to us.-Lady B. Of which he is extremely glad. P. 247. The most admirable young creature that ever swerved....... Yet have I all the weight thrown upon me. -Lady B. The weight very properly and justly directed. Letter 79, p. 270. And what, sir, must their thoughts be?... How to be pitied, how greatly to be pitied, all of them!-Lady B. Not one can I pity but the mother. Unnatural Yahoos. Letter 80, p. 278. Then it was that the grief of each. And then once more the brother took the lifeless hand and vowed revenge upon it, on the cursed author of all this distress.-Lady B. He does well to put the guilt from himself. A sordid, vile creature. Letter 81, p. 283. Master, said I, they all have it. Now, indeed, they have it.-Lady B. And so say I. P. 287. I saw here no face that is the same I saw at my first arrival. Could ever wilful hard-hearted be more severely punished?-Lady B. Just; justly punished. A providential punishment to humble their dirty pride. Letter 83, p. 291. Miss Harlowe was extremely affected....-Lady B. Conscience stung. The worst of wasps except her waspish self. Manchester. SHAKSPEARIANA. "THE BLANKET OF THE DARK," Macbeth (5th S. vii. 325.)-There is no figure of speech more common or more natural than that by which the darkness of night is represented as a huge curtain or veil drawn across the sky, or as a cloak or mantle enveloping the bright firmament and shrouding the light of day. Instances may be adduced from many languages, e.g. in the Rig Veda, "She [the Dawn] the bright (devi) opened the dark cloth" [the night].* In Mohammedan legends night is spoken of frequently as a curtain, hijab; compare The forked lightning seemed to make jagged rents in every part of the vast curtain without" (Dickens, Our Mutual Friend, vol. i. p. 169 (1865). Similarly Shakspeare has the expression, 66 وو "Had All been wrapt-vp from all humane sight, In th' obscure Mantle of eternall Night." Works, "Du Bartas," p. 11 (1621). "Favour'd by streightness of the wayes they took, And cover'd close with nights deceitfull cloak." Id., p. 315. Compare Portuguese "O escuro manto da noite," the night's black mantle (Vieyra). In Arabic "The son of splendour is still hiding in the cloak" is a poetical phrase for "The sun has not yet risen." In general, as Goldziher (Mythology among the Hebrews, p. 190) remarks, Semitic words for night and darkness are from roots meaning to cover.' He compares the old Arabic kafir, night, with Heb. kaphar, to cover; layil, layla, and álatú, from lat, to cover. He quotes from the Uigur language the phrases "Cloak of darkness," "The daughter of the west spreads out her carpet" (= (= night is drawing on), "Creation tore its black shirt" (day dawned); while an Arabic poet speaks of camels in their swift course tearing the mantle of night" (Mythology, &c., pp. 190-193). We have here suggested the primary significance of our word "day-break," the rays of the rising sun being originally regarded as breaking through from without and riving the dense curtain of darkness, in pretty much the same way as foreigners who come to them from beyond the visible horizon are conceived by the savages of the South Pacific to be "sky-bursters," papa-rangi. Compare Ger. tagesanbruch, Heb. boker, morning, from bakar, to cleave or break through. Lower Norwood, S.E. 66 A. SMYTHE PALMER. "TEMPEST," ACT 1. sc. 2 (5th S. vii. 143, 184, 324, 385; viii. 64.)- Ordinary readers of Shakspeare are often amazed at the needless difficulties raised by critics who, wishing to make things plain, frequently darken counsel by words without knowledge. It may often be said with Sheridan, in the Critic, "Egad, the interpreter is the harder to be understood of the two." The passage above alluded to is simply a case of inversion without anything at all extraordinary about it. It stands as follows: "Like one Who having unto truth, by telling of it Change the order of the words thus in plain prose: JABEZ says, "What can be the relevant sense of 'by telling of it'? It cannot mean... 'by telling it,'" &c. I beg to say that in these parts there is "ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL," IV. 2: "I see that men make ropes in such a scarre In The Still Lion, p. 46, Dr. Ingleby mentions that of this vexed passage no fewer than nineteen your leave I shall complete the score by offering conjectural emendations have been proposed. With the following: "I see that men make promise-such as care The ground for my proud hope that I have stumbled "Say thou art mine, and ever My love as it began shall so persever." What more natural than her reply to such an assurance? 6 R. M. SPENCE, M.A. Manse of Arbuthnott, N.B. THE OBELI OF THE GLOBE EDITION IN THE "MERCHANT OF VENICE" (5th S. viii. 4.)— 3. "Veiling an Indian beauty." A writer in Blackwood's Magazine, vol. lxxiv. (Aug. 1853), p. 197, says, "An Indian beauty may mean the worst species of ugliness, just as a Dutch nightingale' means a toad." 6. "And if on earth he do not mean it, then In reason he should never come to heaven." The First Folio, 1623, reads "it is reason," not "then in reason," and I cannot see why the original was altered. Is mean in this passage not equivalent to, or perhaps a contraction of, demean? If so, the sense of the sentence would be that Bassanio, having such a blessing in his lady, finds the joys of heaven here on earth, and that, unless he diminish the blessing, there is no need for his going to heaven at all. The following reading is given in an edition published by Ruddiman, over with great avidity. I could not deny myself the Edinburgh, in 1769: "And if on earth he do not merit it, In reason he should never come to heav'n." I have no means at hand of ascertaining whose 66 emendation this is, but something might be said in its favour. Shawlands, Glasgow. ROBT. GUY. "CORIOLANUS," ACT II. sc. 3:— "Cor. Think upon me? Hang 'em! I would they would forget me, like the virtues No tolerable sense has ever been made of the last "Which medicines lose by time." Undoubtedly time may have been read them, which, in its turn, was contracted into 'em. But if "our divines" be a corruption, its place could hardly have been occupied by medicines; for men do not cease to care for the lost virtues of their drugs, but throw physic to the dogs when it is found to have survived its efficacy. On the contrary, men do not throw away their old wines, not even their tawny port, but they set store by them, prizing them for the very reason that their former virtues, body, strength, and sweetness, have departed. I therefore propose to read "Like the virtues satisfaction (which I hope also will not displease you) of expressing presently my extreme approbation of them. To say only they are very well written is by far too faint an expression, and much inferior to the sentiments I feel. They are composed with nobleness, with dignity, with elegance, and with judgment, to which there are few equals. They even excel, and, I think, in a sensible degree, your History of Scotland. I propose to myself great pleasure, in being the only man in England, during some months, who will be in the situation of doing you justice: after which, you may expect that my voice will be drowned in that of the public. "You know that you and I have always been on the footing of finding in each other's productions something to blame, and something to commend; and therefore you may perhaps expect also some seasoning of the former pro-allowed me to make such remarks, and I sincerely bekind but, really, neither my leisure nor inclination lieve you have afforded me very small materials for them. However, such particulars as occur to my memory I shall mention. Maltreat is a Scottism which old-fashioned dangling word wherewith? I should as soon occurs once. What the devil had you to do with that take back whereupon, whereunto, and wherewithal. I think the only tolerable, decent gentleman of the family is wherein; and I should not choose to be often seen in his company. But I know your affection for wherewith proceeds from your partiality to Dean Swift; whom I can often laugh with, whose style I can even approve, but surely can never admire. It has no harmony, no eloquence, no ornament; and not much correctness, whatever the English may imagine. Were not their literature still in a somewhat barbarous state, that author's place would not be so high among their classics. But what a fancy is this you have taken of saying always an hand, an heart, an head? Have you an ear? Do you not know that this (n) is added before vowels to prevent the cacophony, and ought never to take place before (h) these words: why should it be wrote? Thus I would say when that letter is sounded? It is never pronounced in a history, and an historian: and so would you too, if you had any sense. But you tell me that Swift does otherwise. To be sure there is no reply to that; and we must swallow your hath, too, upon the same authority. Which old wines lose by time," conceiving that our d is a misprint for old, and ivines for wines. Coriolanus might fitly compare himself (as valued by the plebs) to the virtues of wine, which men think they do well to dispraise and forget. JABEZ. Athenæum Club. LETTER FROM MR. HUME TO DR. ROBERTSON.This letter (which contains curious verbal criticisms) was written while the History of Charles V. was still in the press. The levity of Mr. Hume's style forms a striking contrast to the character which this grave and philosophical historian sustains in his publications; and it cannot fail to be interesting to have a glimpse of the writer and his correspondent in the habits of private intercourse, while the playful and good-natured irony of Mr. Hume will suggest no unpleasing picture of the hours which he borrowed from business and study. Dr. Robertson used frequently to say that in Mr. Hume's gaiety there was something which approached to infantine; and that he had found the same thing so often exemplified in the circle of his other friends, that he was almost disposed to consider it as characteristical of genius. "I got yesterday, from Strahan, about thirty sheets of your history, to be sent over to Suard (the French translator); and, la-t night and this morning, have run them "I do not like this sentence in page 194:- This step was taken in consequence of the treaty Wolsey had concluded with the Emperor at Brussels, and which had hitherto been kept secret.' Si sic omnia dixisses (if everything had been so said), I should never have been plagued with hearing your praises so often sounded, and that fools preferred your style to mine. Certainly, it had been better to have said, which Wolsey,' &c. That relative ought very seldom to be omitted, and is here particularly requisite, to preserve a symmetry between tive too often; which is a colloquial barbarism, as Mr. Johnson calls it. the two members of the sentence. You omit the rela |