Epitaph on Dr. William Maginn
Dr. Maginn, it is to be regretted, died at an early age, of consumption. The following epitaph, written for him by his friend, John G. Lockhart, conveys a tolerably correct idea of his habits:—
Walton-on-Thames, August, 1842.
Here, early to bed, lies kind William Maginn,
Who, with genius, wit, learning, life’s trophies to win,
Had neither great lord nor rich cit of his kin,
Nor discretion to set himself up as to tin;
So, his portion soon spent, like the poor heir of Lynn—
He turned author ere yet there was beard on his chin,
And, whoever was out, or whoever was in,
For your Tories his fine Irish brains he would spin;
Who received prose and rhyme with a promising grin—
“Go a-head, you queer fish, and more power to your fin,”
But to save from starvation stirred never a pin.
Light for long was his heart, though his breeches were thin,
Else his acting for certain was equal to Quin;
But at last he was beat, and sought help of the bin
(All the same to the doctor, from claret to gin),
Which led swiftly to jail, and consumption therein.
It was much, when the bones rattled loose in the skin,
He got leave to die here, out of Babylon’s din.
Barring drink and the girls, I ne’er heard a sin:
Many worse, better few, than bright, broken Maginn.
It is not generally known that Dr. Maginn wrote for Knight and Lacey, the publishers, in Paternoster Row, a novel embodying the strange story of the Polstead murder, in 1828, under the title of the Red Barn. The work was published anonymously, in numbers, and by its sale the publishers cleared many hundreds of pounds. Dr. Maginn’s learned and witty essays, in verse and prose, scattered over our monthly magazines during nearly a quarter of a century, merit collective republication.
Talking of odd epitaphs, that upon Beazeley, the architect and dramatist, was written, or rather spoken, by Theodore Hook, as follows:—
“Here lies Sam Beazeley,
Who lived hard and died easily.”