第 7 页

The most famous forgeries of the eighteenth century were those ofMacpherson, Chatterton, and Ireland. Space (fortunately) does notpermit a discussion of the Ossianic question. That fragments ofOssianic legend (if not of Ossianic poetry) survive in oral Gaelictraditions, seems certain. How much Macpherson knew of these, andhow little he used them in the bombastic prose which Napoleon loved(and spelled "Ocean"), it is next to impossible to discover. Thecase of Chatterton is too well known to need much more than mention.The most extraordinary poet for his years who ever lived began withthe forgery of a sham feudal pedigree for Mr. Bergum, a pewterer.Ireland started on his career in much the same way, unless Ireland's'Confessions' be themselves a fraud, based on what he knew aboutChatterton. Once launched in his career, Chatterton drew endlessstores of poetry from "Rowley's MS." and the muniment chest in St.Mary Redcliffe's. Jacob Bryant believed in them and wrote an'Apology' for the credulous. Bryant, who believed in his own systemof mythology, might have believed in anything. When Chatterton senthis "discoveries" to Walpole (himself somewhat of a mediaevalimitator), Gray and Mason detected the imposture, and Walpole, hisfeelings as an antiquary injured took no more notice of the boy.Chatterton's death was due to his precocity. Had his genius come tohim later, it would have found him wiser, and better able to commandthe fatal demon of intellect, for which he had to find work, likeMichael Scott in the legend.

The end of the eighteenth century, which had been puzzled ordiverted by the Chatterton and Macpherson frauds, witnessed also thegreat and famous Shakespearian forgeries. We shall never know theexact truth about the fabrication of the Shakespearian documents,and 'Vortigern' and the other plays. We have, indeed, theconfession of the culprit: habemus confitentem reum, but Mr. W. H.Ireland was a liar and a solicitor's clerk, so versatile andaccomplished that we cannot always trust him, even when he isnarrating the tale of his own iniquities. The temporary but wideand turbulent success of the Ireland forgeries suggests thedisagreeable reflection that criticism and learning are (or ahundred years ago were) worth very little as literary touchstones.A polished and learned society, a society devoted to Shakespeare andto the stage, was taken in by a boy of eighteen. Young Ireland notonly palmed off his sham prose documents, most makeshift imitationsof the antique, but even his ridiculous verses on the experts.James Boswell went down on his knees and thanked Heaven for thesight of them, and, feeling thirsty after these devotions, drank hotbrandy and water. Dr. Parr was not less readily gulled, andprobably the experts, like Malone, who held aloof, were as muchinfluenced by jealousy as by science. The whole story of youngIreland's forgeries is not only too long to be told here, but formsthe topic of a novel ('The Talk of the Town') by Mr. James Payn.The frauds in his hands lose neither their humour nor theircomplicated interest of plot. To be brief, then, Mr. Samuel Irelandwas a gentleman extremely fond of old literature and old books. Ifwe may trust the 'Confessions' (1805) of his candid son, Mr. W. H.Ireland, a more harmless and confiding old person than Samuel nevercollected early English tracts. Living in his learned society, hisson, Mr. W. H. Ireland, acquired not only a passion for blackletters, but a desire to emulate Chatterton. His first step inguilt was the forgery of an autograph on an old pamphlet, with whichhe gratified Samuel Ireland. He also wrote a sham inscription on amodern bust of Cromwell, which he represented as an authenticantique. Finding that the critics were taken in, and attributedthis new bust to the old sculptor Simeon, Ireland conceived a verylow and not unjustifiable opinion of critical tact. Critics wouldfind merit in anything which seemed old enough. Ireland's nextachievement was the forgery of some legal documents concerningShakespeare. Just as the bad man who deceived the guileless Mr.Shapira forged his 'Deuteronomy' on the blank spaces of oldsynagogue rolls, so young Ireland used the cut-off ends of old rentrolls. He next bought up quantities of old fly-leaves of books, andon this ancient paper he indicted a sham confession of faith, whichhe attributed to Shakespeare. Being a strong "evangelical," youngMr. Ireland gave a very Protestant complexion to this edifyingdocument. And still the critics gaped and wondered and believed.

Ireland's method was to write in an ink made by blending variousliquids used in the marbling of paper for bookbinding. This stuffwas supplied to him by a bookbinder's apprentice. When people askedquestions as to whence all the new Shakespeare manuscripts came, hesaid they were presented to him by a gentleman who wished to remainanonymous. Finally, the impossibility of producing this gentlemanwas one of the causes of the detection of the fraud. According tohimself, Ireland performed prodigies of acuteness. Once he hadforged, at random, the name of a contemporary of Shakespeare. Hewas confronted with a genuine signature, which, of course, was quitedifferent. He obtained leave to consult his "anonymous gentleman,"rushed home, forged the name again on the model of what had beenshown to him, and returned with this signature as a new gift fromhis benefactor. That nameless friend had informed him (he swore)that there were two persons of the same name, and that bothsignatures were genuine. Ireland's impudence went the length ofintroducing an ancestor of his own, with the same name as himself,among the companions of Shakespeare. If 'Vortigern' had succeeded(and it was actually put on the stage with all possible pomp),Ireland meant to have produced a series of pseudo-Shakespearianplays from William the Conqueror to Queen Elizabeth. When busy with'Vortigern,' he was detected by a friend of his own age, who pouncedon him while he was at work, as Lasus pounced on Onomacritus. Thediscoverer, however, consented to "stand in" with Ireland, and didnot divulge his secret. At last, after the fiasco of 'Vortigern,'suspicion waxed so strong, and disagreeable inquiries for theanonymous benefactor were so numerous, that Ireland fled from hisfather's house. He confessed all, and, according to his ownaccount, fell under the undying wrath of Samuel Ireland. Any readerof Ireland's confessions will be likely to sympathise with oldSamuel as the dupe of his son. The whole story is told with acurious mixture of impudence and humour, and with greatplausibility. Young Ireland admits that his "desire for laughter"was almost irresistible, when people--learned, pompous, sagaciouspeople--listened attentively to the papers. One feels half inclinedto forgive the rogue for the sake of his youth, his cleverness, hishumour. But the 'Confessions' are, not improbably, almost asapocryphal as the original documents. They were written for thesake of money, and it is impossible to say how far the samemercenary motive actuated Ireland in his forgeries. Dr. Ingleby, inhis 'Shakespeare Fabrications,' takes a very rigid view of theconduct, not only of William, but of old Samuel Ireland. Sam,according to Dr. Ingleby, was a partner in the whole imposture, andthe confession was only one element in the scheme of fraud. OldSamuel was the Fagin of a band of young literary Dodgers. He"positively trained his whole family to trade in forgery," and asfor Mr. W. H. Ireland, he was "the most accomplished liar that everlived," which is certainly a distinction in its way. The point ofthe joke is that, after the whole conspiracy exploded, people wereanxious to buy examples of the forgeries. Mr. W. H. Ireland wasequal to the occasion. He actually forged his own, or (according toDr. Ingleby) his father's forgeries, and, by thus increasing thesupply, he deluged the market with sham shams, with imitations ofimitations. If this accusation be correct, it is impossible not toadmire the colossal impudence of Mr. W. H. Ireland. Dr. Ingleby, inthe ardour of his honest indignation, pursues William into hisprivate life, which, it appears, was far from exemplary. Butliterary criticism should be content with a man's works; hisdomestic life is matter, as Aristotle often says, "for a separatekind of investigation." Old Ritson used to say that "every literaryimpostor deserved hanging as much as a common thief." W. H.Ireland's merits were never recognised by the law.

How old Ritson would have punished "the old corrector," it is"better only guessing," as the wicked say, according to Clough, inregard to their own possible chastisement. The difficulty is toascertain who the apocryphal old corrector really was. The story ofhis misdeeds was recently brought back to mind by the death, at anadvanced age, of the learned Shakespearian, Mr. J. Payne Collier.Mr. Collier was, to put it mildly, the Shapira of the old corrector.He brought that artist's works before the public; but WHY? howdeceived, or how influenced, it is once more "better only guessing."Mr. Collier first introduced to the public notice his singular copyof a folio Shakespeare (second edition), loaded with ancientmanuscript emendations, in 1849. His account of this book wassimple and plausible. He chanced, one day, to be in the shop of Mr.Rudd, the bookseller, in Great Newport Street, when a parcel ofsecond-hand volumes arrived from the country. When the parcel wasopened, the heart of the Bibliophile began to sing, for the packetcontained two old folios, one of them an old folio Shakespeare ofthe second edition (1632). The volume (mark this) was "muchcropped," greasy, and imperfect. Now the student of Mr. Hamilton's'Inquiry' into the whole affair is already puzzled. In later days,Mr. Collier said that his folio had previously been in thepossession of a Mr. Parry. On the other hand, Mr. Parry (then avery aged man) failed to recognise his folio in Mr. Collier's, forHIS copy was "cropped," whereas the leaves of Mr. Collier's examplewere NOT mutilated. Here, then ('Inquiry,' pp. 12, 61), we havetwo descriptions of the outward aspect of Mr. Collier's dubioustreasure. In one account it is "much cropped" by the book-binder'scruel shears; in the other, its unmutilated condition is contrastedwith that of a copy which has been "cropped." In any case, Mr.Collier hoped, he says, to complete an imperfect folio he possessed,with leaves taken from the folio newly acquired for thirtyshillings. But the volumes happened to have the same defects, andthe healing process was impossible. Mr. Collier chanced to be goinginto the country, when in packing the folio he had bought of Rudd hesaw it was covered with manuscript corrections in an old hand.These he was inclined to attribute to one Thomas Perkins, whose namewas written on the fly-leaf, and who might have been a connection ofRichard Perkins, the actor (flor. 1633) The notes contained manyvarious readings, and very numerous changes in punctuation. Some ofthese Mr. Collier published in his 'Notes and Emendations' (1852),and in an edition of the 'Plays.' There was much discussion, muchdoubt, and the folio of the old corrector (who was presumed to havemarked the book in the theatre during early performances) wasexhibited to the Society of Antiquaries. Then Mr. Collier presentedthe treasure to the Duke of Devonshire, who again lent it forexamination to the British Museum. Mr. Hamilton published in theTimes (July, 1859) the results of his examination of the oldcorrector. It turned out that the old corrector was a modern myth.He had first made his corrections in pencil and in a modern hand,and then he had copied them over in ink, and in a forged ancienthand. The same word sometimes recurred in both handwritings. Theink, which looked old, was really no English ink at all, not evenIreland's mixture. It seemed to be sepia, sometimes mixed with alittle Indian ink. Mr. Hamilton made many other sad discoveries.He pointed out that Mr. Collier had published, from a Dulwich MS., aletter of Mrs. Alleyne's (the actor's wife), referring toShakespeare as "Mr. Shakespeare of the Globe." Now the Dulwich MS.was mutilated and blank in the very place where this interestingreference should have occurred. Such is a skeleton history of theold corrector, his works and ways. It is probable that--thanks tohis assiduities--new Shakespearian documents will in future bereceived with extreme scepticism; and this is all the fruit, exceptacres of newspaper correspondence, which the world has derived fromMr. Collier's greasy and imperfect but unique "corrected folio."

The recency and (to a Shakespearian critic) the importance of theseforgeries obscures the humble merit of Surtees, with his ballads ofthe 'Slaying of Antony Featherstonhaugh,' and of 'Bartram's Dirge.'Surtees left clever lacunae in these songs, 'collected from oraltradition,' and furnished notes so learned that they took in SirWalter Scott. There are moments when I half suspect "the Shirrahimsel" (who blamelessly forged so many extracts from 'Old Plays')of having composed 'Kinmont Willie.' To compare old Scott ofSatchell's account of Kinmont Willie with the ballad is to feeluncomfortable doubts. But this is a rank impiety. The last balladforgery of much note was the set of sham Macedonian epics andpopular songs (all about Alexander the Great, and other heroes)which a schoolmaster in the Rhodope imposed on M. Verkovitch. Thetrick was not badly done, and the imitation of "ballad slang" wasexcellent. The 'Oera Linda' book, too, was successful enough to betranslated into English. With this latest effort of the tenth muse,the crafty muse of Literary Forgery, we may leave a topic whichcould not be exhausted in a ponderous volume. We have not room evenfor the forged letters of Shelley, to which Mr. Browning, beingtaken in thereby, wrote a preface, nor for the forged letters of Mr.Ruskin, which occasionally hoax all the newspapers.

BIBLIOMANIA IN FRANCE

The love of books for their own sake, for their paper, print,binding, and for their associations, as distinct from the love ofliterature, is a stronger and more universal passion in France thanelsewhere in Europe. In England publishers are men of business; inFrance they aspire to be artists. In England people borrow whatthey read from the libraries, and take what gaudy cloth-bindingchance chooses to send them. In France people buy books, and bindthem to their heart's desire with quaint and dainty devices on themorocco covers. Books are lifelong friends in that country; inEngland they are the guests of a week or of a fortnight. Thegreatest French writers have been collectors of curious editions;they have devoted whole treatises to the love of books. Theliterature and history of France are full of anecdotes of the goodand bad fortunes of bibliophiles, of their bargains, discoveries,disappointments. There lies before us at this moment a smalllibrary of books about books,--the 'Bibliophile Francais,' in sevenlarge volumes, 'Les Sonnets d'un Bibliophile,' 'La Bibliomanie en1878,' 'La Bibliotheque d'un Bibliophile' (1885) and a dozen otherworks of Janin, Nodier, Beraldi, Pieters, Didot, great collectorswho have written for the instruction of beginners and the pleasureof every one who takes delight in printed paper.