I have now the pleasure of sending you the first-proof sheets of your poem, which is so good as to be entitled to all your care in rendering it perfect. Besides its general merits, there are parts which, I am tempted to be lieve, far excel anything that you have hitherto published; and it were therefore grievous indeed, if you do not condescend to bestow upon it all the improvements of which your mind is so capable. Every correction already made is valuable, and this circumstance renders me more confident in soliciting your further attention. There are some expressions concerning Spain and Portugal which, however just at the time they were conceived, yet as they do not harmonize with the now prevalent feeling, I am persuaded would so greatly interfere with the popularity which the poem is, in other respects, certainly calculated to excite, that in compassion to your publisher, who does not presume to reason upon the subject, otherwise than as a mere matter of business, I hope your goodness will induce you to remove them; and with them perhaps some religious sentiments which may deprive me of some customers amongst the orthodox. Could I flatter myself that these suggestions were not obtrusive, I would hazard another, that you would add the two promised cantos, and complete the poem. It were cruel indeed not to perfect a work which contains so much that is excellent. Your fame, my lord, demands it. You are raising a monument that will outlive your present feelings, and it should therefore be constructed in such a manner as to excite no other association than that of respect and admiration for your character and genius. I trust that you will pardon the warmth of this address, when I assure you that it arises in the greatest degree from a sincere regard for your best reputation; with, however, some view to that portion of it which must attend the publisher of so beautiful a poem as you are capable of rendering in the "Romaunt of

Childe Harold."

We have an amusing sketch of Byron at this time as he was wont to call at Fleet Street on his way from Jackson's boxing lessons, walking up and down the room delivering carte and tierce at the bookshelves, while his admiring publisher was venting his raptures over the poem. "You think that a good idea, do you, Murray?' Then he would fence and lunge with his walking-stick at some special book which he had picked out on the shelves before him." We can easily understand that Murray was "often very glad to get rid of him.”

dramatic, and satirical. The correspondence marks the ripening intimacy; and when Byron finally left England, Murray remained his faithful correspondent, and the chief link between him and the world which he had abandoned. Flattering as the connection was, we can easily understand that it had an alloy of anxiety and doubt. It was impossible for the publisher of the Quarterly, a chief censor morum and guardian of the literary pro prieties of the day, not to have grave misgivings when he read the MSS. of "Cain," and of the successive cantos of "Don Juan," how these works were to affect his own reputation as well as the public mind. It is not an agreeable situation for a publisher to be called upon to consider whether a work is moral enough to carry copyright; and we find some indication of these perplexities in Dr. Smiles's work, and a still clearer reflection of the pub. lisher's scruples in Byron's own letters. It took a stout heart to stem the torrent of literary abuse-not all unmerited — that centred round the name of Byron, and Murray deserves all honor for his stout courage, while posterity has wholly justi fied his fidelity. The case was altogether an exceptional one. Byron's genius was sufficiently powerful to impose his poetry upon the world-a feat that has beer predicable before or since of no other poet.

Moore, on his visit to Byron at Venice in 1819, was presented by the poet with "Life and the MS. of his memoirs - his Adventures" he called it on the condition that it was not to be published until after his death, though he had no objection to Moore's at once disposing of it. This, with a continuation which he received in the course of the following year, he endeavored to dispose of to Longmans, but eventually he accepted Murray's offer of two thousand guineas, on condition that he should edit the MS. and write a life. Murray informed Lady Byron of the memoirs, and offered to submit them to her in case "she might wish to confute any of his statements; but she declined to read them, and considered their publication at any time "as prejudicial to Ada's future happiness." "For my own sake I have no reason to shrink from publication; Then followed that splendid burst of but notwithstanding the injuries which I song, beginning with "The Giaour,' ," have suffered, I should lament more of "The Bride of Abydos," ," "The Corsair," the consequences." The memoirs were and "Lara," in startling rapidity, which shown to several persons- to Lord John Byron continued to pour out with little Russell among others- and the general intermission during the rest of his life, verdict was that they were unpublishable. ranging over all the fields of poetry, lyrical, Lord Holland "seemed to think it was in

cold blood
of poisoned arrows for a future warfare
upon private character."

On Lord Byron's death, the memoirs became Murray's absolute property. Lady Byron had offered to redeem them for the sum which Murray had paid to Moore, but the latter naturally reflected that such an act would seem like treachery to the memory of his deceased friend. He of fered, however, to place the MS. at the disposal of Byron's sister, Mrs. Leigh, "to be done with exactly as she thought proper." The result of much correspond ence and deliberation was that a grand council was held in Murray's drawingroom, when a scene took place worthy of being commemorated by the brush of a great historical painter.

depositing a sort of quiver | ceived by Murray. He took Canning into his confidence, who sent his brother Stratford to consult with the publisher. Murray had a formidable array of able contributors to pit against the talent of the Edinburgh. Through Canning he was able to muster all the wits of the defunct AntiJacobin. His aid to a number of Eton youths who had got entangled with the conduct of the "Miniature," a volume of essays, had given him a claim upon the friendship of Stratford Canning, Gally Knight, the Marquis Wellesley's sons, and other clever young men, whose assistance could be counted on. But it was on Walter Scott that Murray placed his chief reliance; and Scott, who had long patriotically borne with much patience the onslaughts of the Edinburgh on his poems, eagerly entered into the enterprise, and was indefatigable in beating up for recruits. Scott brought in Southey, whose name, more than any other save Croker, was most associated with the Quarterly, which afforded him the very outlet he needed for his marvellous range of reading, and for the opinions of his maturer

There were present Mr. Murray, Mr. Moore, Mr. J. C. Hobhouse, Colonel Doyle representing Lady Byron, Mr. Wilmot Horton representing Mrs. Leigh, and Mr. Luttrell, a friend of Moore's. Young Mr. Murray,· then sixteen; the only person of those assembled now living, - was also in the room. The discussion was long, and stormy before the meeting broke up, and nearly led to a challenge between Moore and Hobhouse. A reference to the agreement between Moore and Murray being necessary, for a long time that document could not be found. It was at length discovered, but only after the decision to commit the MS. to the flames had been made and carried out, and the party remained until the last sheet of Lord Byron's memoirs had vanished in smoke up the Albemarle Street chimney.

As events turned out, we are justified in saying that the decision was a mistake. Had these memoirs been in existence to appeal to, we should probably have never heard of the atrocious Beecher Stowe allegations. There was no reason for publishing them, but every reason for their preservation; and Moore's own opinion, that parts of the MS. which were objectionable should be suppressed and the rest retained, was obviously the only proposal that did justice to all parties concerned.

years.

Gifford was selected for the edi

torship, and in many respects a more fortunate choice could not have been made. It is true he suffered from bad health, and he lacked the punctuality necessary for securing the regular appearance of a periodical; but no man of his day could so readily detect the false amid the true coin of literature, or with more skill harmonize and co-ordinate the materials which came to his hand. It is not the least valuable feature of Dr. Smiles's volumes that they have at last done something like justice to Gifford, whose sharpness and acidity of utterance have been remembered, while his more brilliant services to literature have been overlooked. Whether in the Anti-Facobin or the Quarterly Review, no man in his generation did more for the conservation of a true and manly tone in English literature, or to put down the shallowness, affectation, and false sentiment that was threatening to pervert English taste in the transition period between the two centuries.

The establishment and skilful management of the Quarterly Review is the next great characteristic of Mr. Murray's career. The Edinburgh Review, started in The Quarterly did not create any great 1802, had had a brilliant success from the impression on its first appearance, and beginning; but in the course of six years Murray's friends were somewhat of the its autocratic conduct, its clever but reck-nature of Job's comforters. Every one less criticism, and its unscrupulous politics, had made many literary spirits ripe for revolt against it. It was for Murray to "bell the cat," and the project of a quarterly of equal critical weight, and of more patriotic political principles, was con

naturally had some fault to find with some article or other, although Scott, Ellis, and Canning were among the most active of the earlier contributors. Murray became anxious and Gifford pettish; and with No. 8 the circulation fell from five thousand to

four thousand, a decline with which the dilatory appearance of the number had probably something to do. With No. 9 Southey became a steady contributor, "and there was scarcely a number without one, and sometimes two and even three articles from his pen." In whatever measure the change was due to Southey's pen, from the date of his accession the prospects of the Quarterly improved, and its circulation increased. No doubt much of the credit of the success belongs to Gifford, for we are told that "the interest and variety of its contents, and the skill of the editor in the arrangement of his materials, made up for many shortcomings." Other recruits began to drop in: Barrow and Croker, both from the Admiralty, the latter to become one of Murray's most active and valuable writers; the "poet-priest Milman; " John Taylor Coleridge; Philpotts, afterwards Bishop of Exeter; Thomas Mitchell, the Grecian, and others of not less note. It was not, however, until 1817-that annus mirabilis in which "Maga "first burst upon an admiring world that the Quarterly could boast a sale of twelve thousand copies, rising soon after to fourteen thousand.

[]

tributions of others; and even in this article, which had ominous consequences, he was assisted by Mr. Barron Field. It was a paper on "Ford's Dramatic Works," in which, with his usual scathing scorn of some blasphemous maunderings, he spoke of Charles Lamb as a "poor maniac," quite unconscious of the force of the sting which the epithet conveyed. When Gifford was made acquainted with the malady of the Lambs, he was greatly shocked. "All I ever knew or ever heard," he wrote to Southey in the deepest contrition, "of Mr. Lamb was merely his name. Had I been aware of one of the circumstances which you mention, I would have lost my right arm sooner than have written what I have. I pray God to forgive me, since the blow has fallen heavily, when I really thought it would not be felt." Gifford himself seems to have pruned the cutting articles that came into his hands, and to have toned down all critical violence, -a novel occupation for the editor of the Anti-Facobin, and the author of the "Baviad." Gifford may be said to have died in harness; and as his health declined, the subject of his successor became an anxious question. Among others, NasGifford was a most skilful editor, con- sau Senior was thought of, but finally scientious as he was careful, and his dras- choice was made of Mr. Coleridge, aftertic handling of accepted contributions wards Sir John Taylor Coleridge, the emifrequently roused the ire of the writers nent judge. Coleridge's term of editorship, - especially Southey and Croker who was, however, short, and his prospects at were not always disposed to kiss the rod the bar, too good to allow him to be of correction. What Gifford called abridg- tempted by a literary career, soon induced ment, Southey regarded as mutilation. him to resign. Then came Lockhart, the Southey and the rest were not only con- greatest of all the Quarterly editors, stand. tributors to but critics of the Quarterly, ing a head and shoulders above even and their opinions, if profitable, were not Gifford himself. Connected with the imalways pleasant to the editor and the pub-portation of Lockhart to London, there is lisher. "Southey is quite pleased with related in Dr. Smiles's work a pleasant the whole of our number " (36), writes Gifford to Murray, "which he thinks a most amazing one. This was praise indeed from Southey, and never, I think, was so given to us before." "I am happy to tell you that your Review is abominably bad,"

writes Croker of a subsequent number; "happy for your sake, because - as you will, I dare say, sell twelve thousand-it only shows that you have an estate which produces wholly independent of its culture." And after disposing of the contents more suo, he winds up thus: "In short, my dear Murray, bless your stars you have sounded the bass string of humility, and you may be assured that your next number will be better than the last, and so good-bye." Gifford, it may be remarked, contributed only one article to the Quarterly, though he added largely to the con

little comedy, although no doubt Murray, at whose expense it was got up, felt it to be tragical enough when he came to settle the bill. The short and fateful career of the Representative newspaper is an incident of which the details, as given here, are little known.

The Representative was Mr. Murray's sole essay in daily journalism, and it was enough for him. It originated in the fertile brain of young Mr. Benjamin Disraeli, who was at the time sowing some of his wild oats among city speculators. He was then a Tory, and had not entered him. self as a disciple of O'Connell and Joseph Hume, as he did some years afterwards. Disraeli was connected with a city financier of the name of Powles, whose enterprises he had been aiding by writing pamphlets, and he approached Murray

been the best and steadiest friends of the Re- | Quarterly reviewers and the great authors

view.

In the reform difficulty, and amid the political confusion which it caused, the circulation of the Review began to fall, and we find Lockhart proposing to Murray the reduction of his own honorarium, but the publisher instead faced the crisis in his own way by increasing both the editor's salary and the rate of payment for contributions. Under Lockhart and Murray's vigorous management the Review eventually held its ground.

Lockhart [says Dr. Smiles] had the knack of greatly improving the articles submitted to him. By his knowledge of language and mastery of English style, he added grace and point to even the best written papers, and by a few touches he would develop a half-expressed thought and give life and spirit to the solid sense of a heavy article. He did this, too, without unnecessary curtailment, so as not to offend but even to gratify the authors of the papers. He was also most punctual in his correspondence with the contributors; nor was he less prompt in the publication of the successive numbers of the Quarterly at the appointed periods-so different from the irregularity of its appearance in the time of his predecessor, William Gifford.

for whom he had published, has been made
familiar by description from many pens.
It is beyond our space to run over even
the names of the celebrities who were at-
tracted thither as to a common centre of
literary reunion. Nor were the gentler
sex unrepresented. Mrs. Grahame, after-
wards Lady Calcott, Mrs. Norton, Lady
Caroline Lamb, Mrs. Hemans, Fanny
Kemble, Lady Franklin, and Mrs. Shelley,
were all of the house; and one of them,
Mrs. Norton, has handed down a graceful
memorial of these meetings:-

John Murray! Dare I call thee John?
The first familiar name's the one
Yes; for who calls thee Mister Murray?

The first familiar name is that
Which puts us authors in a flurry:

Long linked with memories bright and
With hours of intellectual chat
pleasant;

And all the sunshine, clouds, and blame
O'er claret, venison, grouse, and pheasant;
Which hang round Byron's chequered story,

When fools denied the wreath of glory.
Whom thy discernment led to fame,

Murray was certainly well sung, as befitted the publisher of many bards, and not the least happy is Theodore Hook's improvisation, which the publisher vainly tried to check by chasing him round the table:

My friend John Murray, I see, has arrived at

The presence of Lockhart at Murray's hospitalities in Albemarle Street always attracted the study of strangers, and in the letters and journals of many distinguished visitors we find surprise recorded at the difference from their preconceived expectations. Cold and reserved on the surface, he was found to be cordial and genial He is an excellent hand at supper, and not a when once the ice was broken. His bad hand at lunch;

the head of the table,

And the wonder is, at this time of night that
John Murray should be able.

pass the punch.

warmth of heart and genuine friendship But the devil of John Murray is, he never will were qualities full well known to "Maga.' He was the very concentration of quiet power. His lofty contempt for all that was sham and spurious, in literature as in the world in general, the outspoken expression of which had procured him the sobriquet of the "Scorpion," were too deeply ingrained in his character to be ever shaken, but he learned through experience when to manifest it with propriety and effect. We find him even interposing between "such poor deer as Lady Morgan" and the scourging of Croker. In every way Lockhart was the worthy suc cessor of Gifford, and a most valuable literary ally to Murray's business.

It was in 1812 that Murray removed westward to Albemarle Street, and that his house became one of the great literary salons of London; and his drawing-room famed as the meeting-place of Scott and Byron, and adorned with the portraits of

In the beginning of the century the fame and enterprise of Constable were the envy of all the "trade;" and in those days, when publishers divided their risks and admitted other houses to a share in their profits, every one was anxious to be associated with him. The success of the Edinburgh and the rising prominence of Scott's works, both of which Constable held in his hands, made every publisher eager to be admitted to a share in his joint adventures. Murray and Constable were early associated together, and it was one of the former's pieces of great good fortune to obtain a one-fourth share in the publication of "Marmion," which, in addition to its profitable results, brought with it the still more important advantage of an intimacy with Scott, and a lifelong friendship. The transactions and correspondence between Murray and Constable occupy con