afterwards to a shoe-maker, whom he served for five years. In his twentieth year his attempts at verse attracted the notice of Mr. Cookesley, a surgeon in the town; and the remarkable instance he displayed of thirst for knowledge, struggling with almost overwhelming circumstances, prompted that benevolent gentleman to raise a subscription for relieving him from his apprenticeship, and supplying him with proper means of instruction. In little more than two years he was pronounced fit for the University; and, by the interest of one of his patrons, obtained the situation of Bible-reader at Exeter-college, Oxford. His finances were then proposed to be increased by a translation of Juvenal's Satires, to be published by subscription; but the design was thwarted by the death of his friend Mr. Cookesley; and not resumed until after a lapse of twenty years. He was, however, soon enabled to provide himself for his wants, by being allowed to take some pupils; and it was not long after that he was introduced, by an accidental circumstance, to the patronage of Lord Grosvenor. That generous nobleman, after the first exposition of the youthful student's circumstances, charged himself with his support and establishment; and received him under his own roof. Gifford continued to reside with his Lordship; and as tutor to the present Earl Grosvenor, both at home and in two successive tours on the continent, he spent many years. Mr. Mr. Gifford did not appear as an author until 1794, when his first publication was his Satire, intituled, "The Baviad," levelled at the taste for maudlin poetry then fashionable. That taste it was so *In 1785," says Mr. Gifford in his Preface, "a few English of both sexes, whom chance had jumbled together at Florence, took a fancy to while away their time in scribbling high panegyrics on themselves, and complimentary canzonettas on two or three Italians, who understood too little of the language to be successful in banishing from the British Parnassus, that in the following year he was encouraged again to wield the same weapon for the amendment of dramatic poetry *. This was in "The Mæviad," an disgusted with them. In this there was not much harm; but as folly is progressive, they soon wrought themselves into an opinion that they really deserved the fine things which were mutually said and sung of each other. About the same period a daily paper, called The World,' was in fashion, and much read. This paper was equally lavish of its praise and abuse, and its conductors took upon themselves to direct the taste of the town, by prefixing a short panegyric to every trifle that appeared in their own columns. The first cargo of Della Cruscan poetry was given to the public through the medium of this paper. There was a specious brilliancy in these exotics which dazzled the native grubs, who had scarce ever ventured beyond a sheep, and a crook, and a rose-tree grove; with an ostentatious display of blue hills,' and crashing torrents,' and 'petrifying suns.' From admiration to imitation is but a step. Honest Yenda tried his hand at a descriptive ode, and succeeded beyond his hopes: Anna Matilda followed; in a word, "Contagio labem Hanc dedit in plures, sicut grex totus in agris "While the epidemic malady was spreading from fool to fool, Della Crusca came over, and immediately announced himself by a sonnet to love. Anna Matilda answered it; and the two great luminaries of the age,' as Mr. Bell calls them, fell desperately in love with each other. From that period not a day passed without an amatory epistle fraught with thunder, lightning, et quicquid habent telorum armamentaria cali. The fever turned to frenzy: Laura-Maria, Carlos, Orlando, Adelaide, and a thousand other nameless names, caught the infection, and from one end of the kingdom to another, all was nonsense and Della Crusca. Even then I waited with a patience which I can better account for than excuse, for some one (abler than myself) to step forth to correct this depravity of the public taste, and check the inundation of absurdity that was bursting upon us from a thousand springs. As no one appeared, and as the evil grew every day more alarming (for now bed-ridden old women, and girls at their sampler, began to rave), I determined, without much confidence of success, to try what could be effected by my feeble powers; and accordingly wrote the following poem." * "I know not," Mr. Gifford declares in the preface to this Satire, "if the stage has been so low since the days of Gammar Gurton as at this. hour. It seems as if all the block imitation of the tenth Satire of the first book of Horace. Never was satire better employed, or more powerfully directed, than it was in both these instances, but the effect was not equal; for while the triumph of the Baviad was signally decisive, that of the Mæviad was only partial. Not that the execution of the latter failed; on the contrary, of the two the Mæviad excels in pointed wit and dignified severity of language; but, as unfortunately the malady opposed had its seat more in the public manners than in the affectation of individuals, it was not so easily expelled. The next object of Mr. Gifford's satyric muse was a writer who had made himself notorious by the most scurrilous attacks on all that was good and great in the Kingdom. Mr. Gifford, who well knew the man, his history*, and his habits, discharged against him one of his sharpest arrows, in the form of an "Epistle to Peter Pindar." Wolcott, though a lampooner of others, could not bear to be satirized himself; and, stung to the soul by heads in the kingdom had started up and exclaimed, una voce, 'Come! let us write for the theatres.' In this there is nothing, perhaps, altogether new, but the striking and peculiar novelty of the times seems to be, that all they write is received. Of the three parties concerned in this business, the writers and the managers seem the least culpable. If the town will have husks, extraordinary pains need not be taken to find them any thing more palatable. But what shall we say of the town itself! The lower orders of the people are so brutified and besotted by the lamentable follies of O'Keefe, and Cobbe, and Pilon, and I know not who-Sardi venales, each worse than the other-that they have lost all relish for simplicity and genuine humour; nay, ignorance itself, unless it be gross and glaring, cannot hope for their most sweet voices.' And the higher ranks are so mawkishly mild, that they take with a placid simper whatever comes before them; or, if they now and then experience a slight disgust, have not resolution enough to express it, but sit yawning and gaping in each other's faces for a little encouragement in their pitiful forbearance." It is remarkable that the two keenest satyrists of the age should have been born (out of the metropolis or any large town) within fifteen miles of each other. this attack, determined upon revenge. Instead, however, of applying in the first place to his most powerful weapon, "the grey goose quill," he assumed the argumentum baculinum, and sallied forth in quest of his adversary. Watching his opportunity, and seeing Mr. Gifford enter the shop of Mr. Wright, the bookseller, in Piccadilly, he rushed in after him, and aimed a blow at Mr. Gifford's head with the cudgel which he had provided for the occasion. Fortunately, a gentleman standing by saw the movement in time to seize the arm of the enraged Poet, who was then bundled out into the street, and rolled in the mud, to the great amusement of the gathered crowd. Nothing further took place at that time, but the disappointed satirist went home and penned one of his worst pieces, which he published with the title of "A Cut at a Cobbler." As, however, there was more passion than either poetry or wit in this performance, the only laugh which it provoked was against its author. About this time, however, Mr. Gifford entered into a warfare of much greater moment. A number of men of brilliant talents and high connection, at the head of whom was Mr. Canning, the late Premier, having determined to establish a weekly paper, for the purpose of exposing to deserved ridicule and indignation the political agitators by whom the country was then inundated, had engaged as editor a Dr. Grant, well known as a writer in the reviews and other periodical works of that period. A few days before the intended publication of the first number of "The AntiJacobin" (which was the name given to the new paper), Dr. Grant being taken seriously ill, sent for Mr. Wright the bookseller, who was to be the publisher of it, told him of his utter inability to discharge the arduous and responsible duties of editor, and requested that he would communicate the pro circumstance to some of the individuals by whom the undertaking had been projected. Mr. Wright accordingly waited upon Mr. Charles Long (now Lord Farnborough), and informed him of what had occurred. Mr. Long asked Mr. Wright if he knew any one who was competent to the office. Mr. Wright mentioned Mr. Gifford's name, and was immediately commissioned to make Mr. Gifford the offer, which that gentleman accepted without hesitation. The first number appeared on the 20th of November 1797, and the publication continued until the 9th of July 1798. Some of the ablest articles in this celebrated journal were written by Mr. Gifford. A corner of the paper was expressly reserved for the "misrepresentation" and "lies" of the Opposition papers; and these misrepresentations and lies it was especially Mr. Gifford's vince to detect and expose. Mr. Gifford's connexion with the Anti-jacobin naturally led to a very agreeable intimacy with a number of men of rank and distinction, among whom were Mr. Canning, Mr. Frere, Mr. Charles Long (now Lord Farnborough), Mr. Jenkinson (the present Earl of Liverpool), Lord Mornington (now Marquis Wellesley), Lord Clare, Mr. Pitt, &c. With one or other of these eminent individuals Mr. Gifford dined twice or thrice a week; and at these festive meetings many of the most exquisite papers in the Anti-jacobin were concocted. The value of Mr. Gifford's powerful assistance was acknowledged by every one; but of all governments on the face of the globe, that of England has invariably exhibited the most prudish delicacy of finance in the recompense of literary exertion. The ministerial recollection of Mr. Gifford's services was by no means a signal exception to the rule, although he obtained the Paymastership of the Band of Gentleman Pensioners. At a subsequent period he was made a double commissioner of the lottery. |