Vortigern; An Historical Play

“And when this solemn mockery is o’er,”

that having been the preconcerted signal when the opponents of the papers were to manifest their disapprobation. Having, in the course of his part, arrived at the anxiously expected line, he delivered it in an exceedingly pointed manner; when, of course, a deafening clamour reigned throughout one of the most crowded houses ever recollected in theatrical history, which lasted for several minutes. Upon a hearing being at length obtained, instead of taking up the following line of the speech in rotation, Mr. Kemble reiterated the above line with an expression the most pointedly sarcastic and acrimonious it is possible to conceive. The result was, from that moment so deafening became the uproar produced by conflicting applause and disapproval, that not one syllable more of the play was rendered intelligible. The speech, of which the above line forms a part, will be found towards the close of the second scene of act the fifth, being the last scene but one of the drama; prior to which, no hostility had been manifested. Indeed, so decided was the applause, that many of the performers appeared confident of the success of the play; among whom, in particular, was the late inimitable Mrs. Jordan, personating the character of Flavia in my drama, with whom I remained in close conversation during a considerable portion of the performance, that lady uniformly persisting in offering her congratulations on the success that awaited the drama, of which “_I had been the fortunate discoverer_.”--[How little did I then imagine, that the lapse of a few short years would behold me following that neglected, but unmatched Thalia of the British stage, to her last long home in the cemetery of St. Cloud; where her remains now moulder, with scarcely a memento to designate the spot that enshrouds them.]

Notwithstanding the pointed hostility manifested by Mr. Kemble, in every stage of this business, it would be the height of injustice not to mention the strenuous exertions, for the success of the piece, manifested by Messrs. Bensley, Barrymore, Caulfield, and King, with Mesdames Powel and Jordan. Those, however, who have any recollection of such walking automatons as Benson and Phillimore being made to figure in my tragedy, can form a shrewd surmise of what the acting manager intended should prove the result of the performance. Added to this, the late Mr. Dignum was purposely placed by Mr. Kemble in a subordinate part, wherein, speaking of the sounding of trumpets, he had to exclaim, “_Let them bellow on!_” which words were uttered with such a nasal and tin-kettle twang, that no muscles, save those of adamant, could have resisted the powerful incentive to laughter.

Having brought the subject of the representation of Vortigern to a close, I shall now enter upon that portion of my preface which comes closest to my own feelings; and if, in the progress of my remarks, I may at times appear somewhat instigated by a sentiment of vindictiveness, let me entreat the reader to commune with himself, and to inquire what would be the state of his mind, after suffering thirty-six years incessant persecution and obloquy, for the commission of an act intended only to please a parent, and which, in reality, has injured no one but its author, and that being he so fondly strove to gratify.

Some time after the appearance of Malone’s long expected “Investigation,” Mr. Chalmers published, first his “Apology for the Believers,” and then a “Supplemental Apology”; wherein, though advocating the untenable side of the question, he displayed a far greater depth of antiquarian research, and scholastic reasoning, than his opponent; in short, there is scarcely one position laid down by Malone, which is not most satisfactorily refuted by Chalmers. At the commencement of this warfare, as to whether the manuscripts were genuine or not, the state of my poor father’s mind was pitiable in the extreme; he as firmly crediting the originality of the papers, as I was aware of their fabrication.

For myself I can conscientiously assert, that this warfare affected me no further, than as creating uneasiness in the mind of my suffering parent: but when insinuations began to be directed against his character, which were ultimately converted into the following bonâ fide assertions--“That the youthful period of my life precluding all possibility of the papers being mine, the whole must of necessity have been fabricated by my father, who had made me the vehicle of introducing them to the public”--I must candidly confess the equanimity of my temper no longer remained unruffled. Never was a creature more basely calumniated, or subjected to more unmerited contumely. It is not because I am speaking of a parent, that I make this declaration; had Mr. Ireland been a mere acquaintance, it would be no more than my duty thus to exonerate, and once more proclaim aloud to the world his entire innocence. Not only was he a total stranger to every proceeding of mine, as regarded the composition of the papers; but, from principle, totally incapable of having even connived, much less have been himself the fabricator. There existed, in my father’s character, a marked tenacity respecting adherence to truth; and it was the thorough knowledge of his rigid principles on that head that long deterred me from making an ample confession of the fact, so much did I apprehend from the effects of his indignation, if made acquainted with the real nature of the whole transaction.

I had nearly forgotten to remark, that among other suppositions hazarded on the subject of concocting the forgery, some persons have been led to imagine, and still conceive, that the late George Steevens was my secret abettor, and gave me his assistance. Now, so remote was this from being the fact, that I never saw the commentator in question but once, and that after my producing the papers: this was in the shop of the late Mr. Richardson, printseller, then residing at the corner of Villiers Street, Strand.

Invariably, when descanting with persons on the subject of the papers, they have applauded the cheat, expressed a wish of having been capable of deceiving the world in a similar manner; and they have then uniformly concluded by upbraiding me for having avowed the fact. Never, indeed, should the world have been gratified by extorting from my lips one syllable approximating to a confession, had I not been urged by the imperious motives of rescuing my father’s character from unmerited obloquy; then I did come forward with the truth, having first abandoned the paternal roof, and relinquished a profession for which I was studying; and, with the wide world before me, and a host of the most implacable enemies at my back, ere my twentieth year, I entered upon the eventful pilgrimage of life, without a guide to direct my steps, or any means of existence, save those which might result from my own industry and perseverance.

Some time after this avowal, I forwarded two very humble apologetic letters to Mr. George Chalmers, who never deigned to reply; these were followed by various others, on the publication of my “Confessions” in 1805, addressed to the leading personages who had advocated the validity of the MSS.

All my efforts, however, proved of no avail; the same animosity was manifested towards me, by a phalanx styling themselves the rigid censors of literature, and the guardians of Shakspeare’s fame; consisting of such persons, for instance, as Malone, Kemble, Dr. Parr, Boaden, Waldron, with a string of etceteras, too tedious for enumeration. Would it be credited, that such men have proceeded to the ridiculous length of ranking my offence on a par with the forgery of a bank-bill; and, I am thoroughly convinced, would have felt infinite delight in witnessing my exit as a delinquent at the Old Bailey. If an untruth in literary matters were so heinous an offence, whence comes it that the late Sir Horace Walpole, afterwards Lord Orford, escaped the lash of reproof, for palming off his “Castle of Otranto” as the translation from an old Italian MS.? and why were not a long list of others, guilty of similar literary misdemeanours, dragged forth to public execration? No! the whole, except in the instance of poor Chatterton, to whose memory the world has since done justice, was reserved for my devoted head; every burthen was accumulated on my shoulders: this I have endured with stoicism, until I conceive my penance fully achieved; and when I witness the splendid example of Sir Walter Scott, whose repeated denials, even to Majesty itself, of the authorship of the so called Waverly Novels, have rather added to than detracted from his well-earned literary reputation, I trust that so youthful an infraction of the great principle of truth should not be too bitterly remembered, and that I may now stand acquitted before the grand ordeal of society.

Having nothing more to add on the general subject of the Shaksperian papers, I shall wind up this prefatory address by a few observations on the conduct of those, who, arrogating to themselves a dictatorship in regard to every thing connected with the literature of Shakspeare, have been my unceasing persecutors.

Among these may be mentioned, the deceased Dr. Parr, of Greek celebrity, whose death, instead of accumulating a fresh odor of sanctity around his fame, has tended to open men’s eyes, who now begin to find out, that the Doctor was not exactly that mighty phenomenon for which he had enjoyed the reputation, while living. A catalogue of this learned Theban’s books has been published, under the title of “_Bibliotheca Parriana_,” wherein the MS. opinions of the Doctor, as inserted in a multiplicity of works, are given to the public.

At p. 522 appears the following note from this scholastic, erudite, and Christian divine:

“Ireland’s (Samuel)” great and impudent forgery, called, “Miscellaneous Papers and Legal Instruments, under the Hand and Seal of William Shakespeare.” Folio, 1796.

“I am almost ashamed to insert this worthless and infamously trickish book. It is said to include the tragedy of King Lear, and a fragment of Hamlet. Ireland told a LIE, when he imputed to me the words which Joseph Warton used, the very morning I called on Ireland, and was inclined to admit the possibility of genuineness in his papers. In my subsequent conversation, I told him my change of opinion. But I thought it not worth while to dispute in print with a detected impostor.

“S. P.”

Here we have a sample of clerical politeness, mixed up with heartfelt ranklings, because it was impossible for the divine to deny that he had been a staunch believer in the MSS. and the dupe of a boy of seventeen.

It is true that it was Dr. Warton, instead of himself, as stated in error in my “Confessions,” who passed a most pompous eulogy on my Shakspeare’s Profession of Faith: but it so happens that I was present when Drs. Parr and Warton together inspected the papers; and it was on that memorable occasion that the latter, after the documents had been twice read by both of them, made use of the following words, in which Dr. Parr not only concurred, but himself pronounced panegyrics equally forcible: “_Sir, we have many fine things in our church service, and our Litany abounds in beauties; but here, sir, here is a man who has distanced us all._” As to a subsequent interview, stated to have taken place with my father, it is a gross falsehood; and was merely incorporated in the above note to palliate, as much as possible, the Doctor’s want of accuracy, in having accorded the sanction of his name to my MSS. These, indeed, were pitiable subterfuges for a churchman to descend to, and altogether unbecoming a person of the Doctor’s erudition, and high standing in society.