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LITERARY SUCCESS A HUNDRED
YEARS AGO.

HOSE who in these days "tamper with the Muses" must find

TH

a fruitful source of vexation in the perusal of the letters and memoirs of certain literary persons who flourished a century ago. If there were then no instances of a prize poem leading to an ambassadorship, as in the case of Prior, or of good places being given away in return for a fairly creditable copy of verses, there were abundant examples of a splendid social position and ample pecuniary rewards being gained by writers whose abilities we should now consider of the most common-place order. But let any disappointed genius who feels himself or herself inadequately rewarded by the admiration of perhaps a small clique in this much-divided literary world of London, be thankful to avoid stumbling on the "Life and Letters of Mrs. Hannah More." Almost exactly a hundred years ago she, "impelled by the consciousness of superior powers," came to London. She did not enter it as a perfect stranger, for, to quote Mr. Roberts, her biographer, "Society, in its most engaging form, was extending its arms to receive her."

At this time Mrs. Hannah More was a comely woman of eightand-twenty, and she had written the "Search after Happiness," a Pastoral Drama of the feeblest description, and some translations from Metastasio and Horace, and, on the strength of these achievements Her favourite and some good introductions, she carried the town. amusement as a child had been to turn a chair into a coach, seat herself in it, and invite her sisters to drive with her to London, to see publishers and bishops; and now her childish sport became a reality, and she not only was able to hold her own with publishers when the time for bargaining came, but took sweet counsel with every bishop on the bench, and during the whole course of her life gave them large help in holding up the pillars of Church and State. Another ambition of her childhood had been to have a whole quire of writingpaper given to her at once. This wish had been granted, and on half the quire she had written letters to depraved characters (imaginary

ones), pointing out the evil of their ways; and on the other half, answers from the same, owning the convincing force of her arguments, and proclaiming their sincere repentance and intention of amendment. This juvenile amusement was also the foreshadowing of her chief employment in after years.

At first, it must be owned, Miss More was just a little dazzled by the great world and the great people she met, and no wonder, for both were at her feet. Night after night she went to parties "composed entirely" (to use her own words, though it is unkind of her to make such a marked distinction) "of wits and bishops, with scarcely an expletive person amongst them." Garrick was one of her first friends, and, in spite of his calling, the friendship between them lasted as long as he lived. She met Dr. Johnson at a party given by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Her host had forewarned her that it was just possible the Doctor might be in one of his moods of sadness and silence. She was therefore-and now we use the words of her biographer"surprised at his coming to meet her as she entered the room, with good humour in his countenance, and a macaw of Sir Joshua's on his hand; and still more at his accosting her with a verse from a Morning Hymn, which she had written at the desire of Sir J. Stonehouse. In the same pleasant humour he continued the whole of the evening."

This is rather a different account of the meeting from that given by Mrs. Thrale: "When she (H. More) was introduced to Dr. Johnson not long ago, she began singing his praises in the warmest marner, and talking of the pleasure and the instruction she had received from his writings, with the highest encomiums. For some time he heard her with that quietness which a long use of praise had given him. Then she redoubled her strokes, and, as Mr. Seward calls it, peppered still more highly, till at length the Doctor turned suddenly to her, with a stern and angry countenance, and said, 'Madam, before you flatter a man so grossly to his face, you should consider whether or not your flattery is worth having."" If during this first interview Dr. Johnson did administer such a sledge-hammer rebuke, he certainly took a liking to Miss More afterwards, for we hear of his calling her child, and little fool, and love, and dearest, and with him these epithets were synonyms.

This conquest of Dr. Johnson was by no means the end of Hannah More's social successes. She soon became acquainted with "all the great and greatly endowed." She was introduced to "her sex's glory, Mrs. Montagu," and describes her in a letter to her sister as "not only the finest genius, but the finest lady I ever saw. She lives in the highest style of magnificence. Her apartments and table

are in the most splendid taste," &c. We, in these more fastidious modern times, have some doubts as to the genius, and, when we read her letters, many as to the fine taste of the lady; but in Hannah More's days the approval of Mrs. Montagu was a kind of Hall-mark which was absolutely necessary to any one who wished to make a figure in the world of letters. She could crush an aspirant by a word. She herself describes the manner in which she addressed a lady who was trying to shine in conversation in her presence. "Mr. B's wife put out all her strength to be witty, and in short showed such a brilliant genius that I turned about and asked who it was that was so willing to be ingenious." The great lady was, however, very civil to Miss More; and, besides this triumph, Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Chapone, Mrs. Trimmer, and Mrs. Vesey hailed her as a kindred spirit, while Mrs. Boscawen crowned her with laurels, and "that pleonasm of nakedness," as De Quincey called Mrs. Barbauld," wrote her letters full of elegance and good nature." The sublime and beautiful Burke honoured her with a morning call. Baretti of the Italian Dictionary followed Johnson of the English, Lord Howe, Lord Rodney, Oriental Jones, Mythology Bryant, Dr. Solander, Boswell (then called Corsican Boswell), Warton, Walpole, Windham, Sheridan, the Thrales, Barneys, and the learned and ingenious Mr. Cambridge (who must have had something beyond the common in him, for he had a natural antipathy to an ode)—all made much of her; the King got her to copy her MS. poems for him, the Queen sent her flattering messages, Prime Ministers made her welcome in their houses, the Lord Chancellor said civil things to her, and as for bishops, peers, and peeresses, if we seek to give a list of those who were on terms of friendship with her or to chronicle their compliments, we find their name is She knew Lord Erskine, whose speeches could not always be reported because the printer's stock of I's ran out, and in her turn sound him “fond of talking of himself." She was even acquainted

De Lolme: and when we have said that, we have mentioned a ne vabad has awed us from very childhood!

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A. his great society was perhaps a little thrown away upon
in one of her letters she says, "For my own part, the more
De honoured, famed, and great,' the more I see of the

wastastictoriness of all created good." In another xors she has remarked that "wits, when they get into a

stas del as other people," Perhaps the occasion on made pia memark was that on which "the spirit of the *** Nag on the strength of a little lemonade till past scandal or politics."

However, whether she despised it or not, her success in the literary world of London was a fact, and when she went into the country she received equal homage. She herself describes a visit into Norfolk, and how the first Sunday she was there she was, "when the service was over, politely accosted by every well-dressed person in the congregation," all desiring to see her at their houses. From thence she went to stay in a country house full of visitors, and a friendship commenced between herself and every one of the guests, which lasted during their respective lives!

All her letters at this time seem to be full of a chastened worldliness, or rather of a desire to cultivate two opposing worlds at once. She had shown it even in childhood when she wished to go to London to see publishers and bishops. She showed it afterwards in the worldly wisdom with which she criticised her own title of "Sacred Dramas." "The word sacred in the title is a damper to the dramas. It is tying a millstone about the neck of sensibility, which will drown them both together." She showed it by going to Sunday parties, and abusing the people who gave them as soon as she returned home, and asking Elijah (i.e. herself) what he had been doing there? In fact, the way in which the little woman sipped the sweets of pleasure at this time, and quarrelled with their taste, is very droll. "Pleasure," says she, "is by much the most laborious trade I know, especially for those who have not a vocation to it. I worked with great assiduity at this hard calling on Monday. The moment I had breakfasted, I went to Apsley House, where I stayed till near

I then made insignificant visits till four, when I went to Mrs. Boscawen's to dinner, where I stayed till eight, and from thence went to spend the evening at Mrs. Vesey's, where there was a small assemblage of about thirty people, and all clever." In another place she naïvely says, "Mrs. Boscawen came to see me the other day with the duchess in her gilt chariot with four footmen. It is not possible for anything to be more agreeable to my taste than my present manner of living."

Whilst at home in Bristol after one of these triumphant visits to London, she one day said laughingly to her sister, "I have been so fed with praise that I really think I will venture to try what is my real value, by writing a slight poem and offering it to Cadell myself." In a fortnight after the idea was started she had completed "Sir Eldred of the Bower," to which she added the short poem of the "Bleeding Rock." Cadell at once (publishers always do) offered her a price which far exceeded her idea of its worth, very handsomely adding, that if she could hereafter discover what Goldsmith obtained

for the Deserted Village." he would make up what he had given her to the same sum, be it what it might Dr. Johnson sat from nine till twelve at night reading and criticising "Sir Eldred;" he even added a stanza of his own to it: and when we say that the poem does not suffer from the introduction of this, we have said enough to give an oden of its style and merit

In 17. she wrote Percy;" Garrick composed and spoke the prologue and epilogue. In a letter to her sister she tells how "several very great ones made interest to hear him read the play before it was acted, but he peremptorily refused." Miss More was present at the first night's performance, and had the delight of witnessing a brilliant success." One tear," she writes to her sister, "is worth a thousand hands, and I had the satisfaction of seeing even men shed them in abundance." (Tears, not hands, we hope; but the gifted author leaves the point unsettled) When the play was over, the critics met as asal at the Bedford to fix its character," and that being satisfactory, and more than satisfactory, Miss More received praise and admiration on all sides. Dr. Percy (the bishop) was sent at once by the Duke of Northumberland and Earl Percy to thank her for the bonour which she had done their family. Four thousand copies of the play sold in a fortnight. All the great people went to the theatre night after night, and some of them accepted no invitation without making a proviso that they should be at liberty to break the engagement if a desire to go to see "Percy" again came into their heads. M. de Calonne, Prime Minister of France, translated it into French, some one else into German, and for months its popularity was unbounded. How cheaply this success was gained, any one who has the courage to read "Percy" may see for himself. To give an idea of the story: Elwina, daughter of Earl Raby, is betrothed to Earl Percy. He goes to the Crusades (these Crusades, by-the-bye occur, in despite of chronology, after the battle of Chevy Chase). During Earl Percy's absence, Earl Raby insists on Elwina's marrying a new suitor, Earl Douglas-to use the fair Elwina's own words

He dragged me trembling, dying to the altar,

I sighed, I struggled, fainted, and-complied.

Earl Douglas, after a while, finds Elwina's heart is not his, is jealous, and asks her if "no interior sense of guilt confounds her?" And so the play pursues its feeble course to the dreary end. We know "Percy" to be a tragedy because three people come to a violent death in the last act, and because miseries are "pulled Town" on guilty heads. Had it not been a tragedy, it would

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