Postscript
By the Editor
In every age of life, man requires relaxation after the fatigues and the cares of business: but the distinction of rank and the forms of modern society prevent his enjoying freedom of social intercourse. Hence have arisen, in France, those assemblies of literary men, who, under the presidency of some celebrated lady, have distinguished themselves by their labours, and have enriched their country in the various branches of science and of literature.
The utility and advantage to literary men of communicating their ideas have been equally felt in this country; and, from the time of Shakespeare to that of Johnson, mixed societies have been formed, in the freedom and conviviality of mirth, for the discussion of literary subjects. By these means, strength and copiousness have been imparted to the English language. The French, too, have introduced more correctness and elegance into their language, similar to the Greeks in the time of Pericles, by a greater devotion to the muses.
Monsieur Barthelemi speaking of the influence of Aspasia on the arts, the society, and the literature of Greece says, “Les Grecs furent encore moins étonnés de sa beauté, que de son eloquence, que de la profondeur, et des agréments de son esprit. Socrate, Alcibiade, les gens de lettres, et les artistes, les plus renommés, les Athéniens, et les Athéniennes les plus aimables, s’assemblaient auprès de cette femme singulière, qui parlait, a touts, leur langue, et qui s’attirait les regards de touts.
If a Prince of Wales should not think it unbecoming in him to have honoured the society of Mrs. Abington, it is not less creditable to the first Marquis of Lansdowne, Mr. Sheridan, and other celebrated characters, to have appreciated the elegance, the accomplishments and the acquirements of that lady.
Comparisons are odious, says some saw or adage, therefore, without comparing Harriette Wilson to any of her predecessors, it is due to her from me, her editor, to say that she first introduced order and decorum into the reign of fashion, that she reformed and improved the great world, that she established regulations, among which was one, that no man should be introduced into her world until he had been first presented to her, and another, that due homage should be paid to her in all public places.
That Miss Wilson did possess an undivided allegiance, no one who has lived in our times will be so daring or so venturesome as to deny; that she established a voluntary submission to her power, it will be presumption to doubt; that she has subdued conquerors, and that she has drawn within the influence of her dominion, great and celebrated characters, whether by the charms of her conversation, the sprightliness of her ready wit, or the elegance of her manners, by the glare of her beauty, by the sweet tones of her voice, or by a combination of all, those who have been attracted by her enchantments, if the spell be now broken, may be able to explain. It may be attributed to her, as to Orpheus, who, as we all recollect, by the power of his music tamed wild beasts and monsters of every kind, that all were obedient to her voice. Not that I mean to insinuate that her lovers were wild beasts or monsters, until they were drawn into the vortex of her numerous attractions, and thus became humanised and polished, though a keener satirist than myself might furnish some small portion of amusement, by tracing certain wild and monstrous propensities, which might be compared with their untamed and domesticated state, and their conduct and habits since they have divested themselves of the silken cords by which, while in her custody, they had been directed or restrained.
We have now seen Miss Wilson in various fluctuations of her reign; but not in all of them. She has already promised some further sketches. If she has endeavoured, in her Memoirs, to illustrate the characters of those who principally figure in them, while she has wielded the lash of truth, she has lost no opportunity to do justice to their merits.
These Memoirs, in their character of fidelity, which no one can reasonably doubt, assume a rank of more than common consideration. The accuracy with which the author has drawn her different characters is such, that, in every single instance, they must have been recognised by their intimates, had no names been attached to them; and herein, she has just right to rank with the very few impartial and fearless historians of their own times; but she has also the higher claim of having conferred on the moral state of society in Europe, such a benefit as is I believe without parallel.
This publication cannot fail to produce the greatest moral effect on the present and future generations. If
Vice is a monster, of such hideous mien,
That, to be hated, needs but to be seen,
when has vice ever been so unsparingly exposed? Who has hitherto ever had the courage to beard the lion in his den; to drag forth the monster from his most secret recesses, from his most impregnable fastnesses, in the castles of earthly power, strip him of the armour with which he had been, as not he only, but almost every one, supposed, invincibly clad, by the very giants of rank and fortune, and exhibit him shorn, at once, of all those glorious beams, whose dazzling glare blinded even the strongest-sighted spectators, deprived of all his means to do mischief, and harmless and submissive as the veriest pet lamb.
On the subject of the line generally taken by the journalists of this country in reference to these Memoirs, it was my wish to have analysed their conduct with the same freedom they themselves have assumed. The publisher however prefers to choose his own time and place and mode of treating them. They may, notwithstanding, solace themselves with my assurance that a day of retribution will come, and may be nearer than many of them anticipate. He has, in the meantime, subjoined an extract of a letter from Colonel Rochfort, to Mr. Stockdale, dated Paris 24th of March: it runs thus, smoothly and pithily enough:
“I shall not talk, or write about vulgar editors: but shall act, the first time I come to England, practically; and, if you like, you shall see me.”
This will do, for the present, from the husband and the publisher. Mrs. Rochfort speaks also for herself, of the learned doctor who edits the New Times and I shall venture to add, ex uno, disce omnes.
Her Answer, to the Editor of the “New Times,” Is as Follows
“While expressing my sincere gratitude to such friends as have held out a helping hand towards me, it would have been very ungrateful on my part, to have omitted some brief acknowledgment to my most cordial supporter the brilliant editor of the New Times newspaper. He, in a paragraph of at least a foot long, with true, genuine, manly dignity loads me, a female, who never injured him nor meant him harm, with the coarsest abuse, bestowing on me the most ungentlemanlike epithets!
“My book was going on well, it is true: still, there were, no doubt, thousands of young ladies who had neither read it, nor dreamt of reading it, when this paragraph of the kind and judicious editor, like the apple upon Eve, so worked upon their imagination and excited their curiosity:
“‘Most earnestly do we call on our fair countrywomen not to suffer such pollution to approach them, &c. &c. &c.’
“He then goes on to prose something about pickling or preserving the chastity of virgins and matrons.
“Now, if such a notice as the above was not actually meant to excite curiosity, and, by making the book circulate, effect the very horrors which he deprecates, I appeal to the candour of readers in general, whether this editor’s total ignorance of human nature as well as of the nature and properties of young ladies, does not entirely disqualify him for the profession of an editorial partisan. He must indeed be a weak and silly and spiteful sort of a reptile not worth my notice, were it not for my naturally grateful disposition, the man’s long-winded oration having put money into my pocket; yet he is said to be a doctor, learned in the law, ycleped LL.D. and very probably A.S.S.
“Great ends are often effected by little means. I am sorry he has worked himself up into such a desperately vengeful fit against me; because, really, when I, in the first Volume, mentioned Sophy’s porkman having wrapped her black pudding up with a dirty piece of Times newspaper, I never thought of calling its editor a dirty fellow, as that most worthy gentleman has taken it: but, could I help a cap fitting now and then, though it was never made to order? I declare, I merely conceived the porkman’s greasy hands had made a dirty Times newspaper of it; for, whether it be good or bad composition, I know not, as it is a paper which neither I nor any other well-bred person of my acquaintance ever looks into.
“I would appeal, even to Fred. Lamb himself, on whom I perhaps have been a little too severe, whether the editor’s anonymous, personal, and low abuse of me, who affix my name to my Memoirs, is not disgraceful to any man?
“And then the worthy editor winds up his oration with an argument, which, to all noble fathers and parents of high taste and renown, must be found irresistible. He declares that his mighty immaculate pigmies, Gogs or Magogs, the Miss New Times’s, or the Misses New Times, shall not read one line of my book!
“Quel malheur! tant pour les Misses New Times, que pour moi!
“But who on earth are the Miss New Times’s? We declare, plurally speaking, in humble imitation of the worthy editor, that we never once knew, saw, nor heard of such people, or if we did, like our Latin, we have forgotten them.
“Editors, I humbly suppose, ought to be something like gentlemen, and if, though they may be old ladies, they are really moral characters too, I conceive they would be justified in expressing with manly firmness, their disapproval of any publication which they believed to be dangerous or improper; but the low meanness of loading with abuse a female like me, whose only protector resides on the continent, is the more cowardly, inasmuch as the said editors never applied those epithets to Lady Caroline Lamb, nor, in short, to any lady whose husband happened to be at hand, with that hand ready to pull their noses, if they have courage enough to let them appear.
“Now I beg to ask the editor of the New Times, what can be more immoral than Lady Caroline Lamb, a wife and mother, publishing her own desperate love-letters to Lord Byron, written under her husband’s own roof? Yet what editor ever took to task a lady whose friends were on the spot? While this bold champion of the public morals spits his toad-like venom on me, who never yet deceived, nor acted a dishonourable part towards anybody, except myself, and who was at first forced into that unfortunate situation, which the heartless conduct of my former acquaintances obliged me to continue in. Yet, whatever may have been their sins against me, I am confident, as of my existence, that they will all express their unequalified disgust at the editor’s unmanly abuse of me.”
Thus far the fair auto-biographer. The whole and sole conduct of the editors may be defined in one word, selfishness. Their private pecuniary interest, and that alone, influenced their proceedings. They one and all expected to derive pecuniary advantage from the conduct they adopted in regard to these Memoirs, and, while many of them were abusing her, for having endeavoured to get money by her work, their single object was the very same, whether they affected to be loud in their complaints, whether they assumed a tone of moderation, or whether they were wholly silent—a very rare occurrence!
Scarcely inferior to the abuse of the press has been the abuse of power in the same case. Happy indeed is it for all concerned, and most happy for the general interests of society, that we live in a country where those who wield the sharpest swords with the most skilful hands, have even their power to oppress limited, and, from the throne itself, have bounds set to their wishes, by a constitution, which emphatically and almost with more than mortal voice exclaims, “Thus far shalt thou go and no farther.”
It will be observed that this work has proved no less obnoxious to those out of power, than to those in power, and to some, we might almost say, of every rank and class, from the highest to the lowest. Here then was an embodied phalanx to be encountered, which the invincible, giant-arm of truth could alone dare, could alone meet, could alone discomfit. The great mass of the people, who did not know how soon their turn might come, exulted indeed in their present security, but dared not venture to do more than remain neutral: while the very, very few, who, when they knocked at the door of their own consciences, were sure of a comfortable answer, gave their unostentatious, almost silent, and not very effective encouragement to the publisher, not to be borne down by the torrent of abuse, which glanced harmless from that head which it was intended to crush and overwhelm, and bury in a heap of disgusting ruins.
A common interest, it was anticipated, would produce a more than common union of all the powers; yet great is truth, and it will prevail!
Amicus Plato, amicus Socrates; sed magis amica veritas.
The age of all the talents was revived on this occasion. Ministers and Opposition joined. White’s, Brooke’s, the United Service, and indeed all the principal clubs held meetings to extinguish this burning shame, which threatened an extent of desolation which, it was said, would make England not worth living in, and some actually quitted, while others prepared, to quit it in consequence.
One sapient resolution was that they should not buy these Memoirs; but the private curiosity of each, to see what figure his companions cut, rendered that resolve nugatory in a moment. Another resolution was to withdraw all custom from the publisher, and discountenance and annoy him in every possible way, especially by actions at law against him. This has been carried into effect, in a manner perhaps without precedent, and under the harass and expense of which, most physical and pecuniary resources would have given way; but here again we have reason to be thankful, and with the motto, “Be firm and you triumph, fear and you fall!” we have pretty well weathered the imminent storm.
Then, probably, as a last resource, but we must not halloa before we are out of the wood, the strong hand of power put itself forth, in the person of the representative of our most gracious sovereign at the court of France. Lord Granville, whose personal beauty when Lord Granville Leveson Gower was inadequate to obtain him favour in the eyes of our fair Memoirist, replaced Sir Charles Stuart as ambassador at Paris. His noble magnanimity instantly rushed forward to seize an opening, however slight, to revenge the insult on his vanity, which, if it had ever slept, revived with more than pristine ardour, from the publicity given to it in this work. As has been already seen, he deprived our heroine of the right of transmitting her letters direct by the ambassador’s bag. This, however, was an obstacle easy to surmount. Her letters still passed by the same conveyance; but through an intermediate friend. It was now evident that her letters were opened, delayed, and sometimes withheld, and, at last, any letter from her was interdicted a reception in this select baggage, owing, as was stated, to orders from the Foreign Office, in consequence of personal dislike of Stockdale, whose letters were constantly delayed and perused, and not unfrequently suppressed. Her publisher soon satisfied her that it could not be true that such conduct prevailed here; because his letters continued to be received at the Foreign Office, as they had ever been, and therefore that it must be a false and paltry subterfuge of her Parisian friends, who were endeavouring by such means to make a breach between author and publisher.
Convinced by this plain unvarnished tale Mrs. Rochfort made known her sentiments, and the ambassador’s influence soon produced an inquiry in the Foreign Office, of course promoted by that brilliant and eloquent satirist, the Right Hon. Secretary, George Canning, to ascertain the individual who took charge of my letters, and give him a reprimand for the present and caution for the future.
The sentiments of the head of the office being now so effectively made known, Mr. Stockdale soon learnt it by the return of two packets. He instantly transmitted them to the Earl of Mount Charles, who, he was confident, from attachment to the lady, had no less the means than the will to oblige her in so very trifling a matter. What then was the publisher’s surprise, to receive back his letters from Lord Mount Charles, notwithstanding his lordship had in the customary official manner put his own initials at the corner of their envelopes, with a message that Lord Mount Charles had not the means of forwarding them.
In a trivial case, it would be difficult to instance a more complete, a more servile, a more degrading submission to the fiat of political influence than this, by a scion of the most prominent and influential, if not the most opulent noble, in the peerage of the United Kingdom. Alas! we cannot parody the line and say of the independence of the young and high-born heir of the Marquisate of Conyngham.
And, fled from monarchs, Mount Charles, dwells with thee!
But we will pursue this disgusting un-Englishlike, and mean abuse of power no farther, except to say that there is some reason to believe that the correspondence with this lady, which goes even by the General Post, at least from her publisher, is not kept inviolate; but whether at the English or at the French side of the Channel, this deponent saith not.
Before I wholly drop this subject, I am requested by Mrs. Rochfort to say that she has been like her publisher, so annoyed by anonymous and other impertinence, that, she will henceforth receive no letters whatever, unless they bear the superscription of the name and seal of their writers.
One or two trivial matters still remain to be noticed.
Charmouth, whither Harriette retired on the Marquis of Worcester’s expatriation, is in Dorsetshire, not in Devonshire.
The publisher’s courteous gallantry to the Countess of Clare induced him to make a communication to that lady and withhold the portion of the Memoirs which relates to her, until the printing had proceeded too far to admit its insertion in its assigned place, where Lord Ponsonby is spoken of, and this will therefore form part of the further Memoirs.
As the question of piracies, and Mr. Blore’s proceedings against the publisher for libel, will find due publicity in the Court of King’s Bench, I shall also, for the present, take my leave, after unsparing congratulations on the success of these Memoirs, and on their moral effects on society and manners throughout the civilised world, a consummation which will be assisted in no small degree by the series of prints, of which the publication has already commenced, and which, I cannot hesitate to affirm, are actually unrivalled in this or in any other country.
THOMAS LITTLE.