Books and Bookmen [25]
He confessed all, and, according to his own
account, fell under the undying wrath of Samuel Ireland. Any reader
of Ireland's confessions will be likely to sympathise with old
Samuel as the dupe of his son. The whole story is told with a
curious mixture of impudence and humour, and with great
plausibility. Young Ireland admits that his "desire for laughter"
was almost irresistible, when people--learned, pompous, sagacious
people--listened attentively to the papers. One feels half inclined
to forgive the rogue for the sake of his youth, his cleverness, his
humour. But the 'Confessions' are, not improbably, almost as
apocryphal as the original documents. They were written for the
sake of money, and it is impossible to say how far the same
mercenary motive actuated Ireland in his forgeries. Dr. Ingleby, in
his 'Shakespeare Fabrications,' takes a very rigid view of the
conduct, not only of William, but of old Samuel Ireland. Sam,
according to Dr. Ingleby, was a partner in the whole imposture, and
the confession was only one element in the scheme of fraud. Old
Samuel was the Fagin of a band of young literary Dodgers. He
"positively trained his whole family to trade in forgery," and as
for Mr. W. H. Ireland, he was "the most accomplished liar that ever
lived," which is certainly a distinction in its way. The point of
the joke is that, after the whole conspiracy exploded, people were
anxious to buy examples of the forgeries. Mr. W. H. Ireland was
equal to the occasion. He actually forged his own, or (according to
Dr. Ingleby) his father's forgeries, and, by thus increasing the
supply, he deluged the market with sham shams, with imitations of
imitations. If this accusation be correct, it is impossible not to
admire the colossal impudence of Mr. W. H. Ireland. Dr. Ingleby, in
the ardour of his honest indignation, pursues William into his
private life, which, it appears, was far from exemplary. But
literary criticism should be content with a man's works; his
domestic life is matter, as Aristotle often says, "for a separate
kind of investigation." Old Ritson used to say that "every literary
impostor 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, in
regard to their own possible chastisement. The difficulty is to
ascertain who the apocryphal old corrector really was. The story of
his misdeeds was recently brought back to mind by the death, at an
advanced 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? how
deceived, or how influenced, it is once more "better only guessing."
Mr. Collier first introduced to the public notice his singular copy
of a folio Shakespeare (second edition), loaded with ancient
manuscript emendations, in 1849. His account of this book was
simple and plausible. He chanced, one day, to be in the shop of Mr.
Rudd, the bookseller, in Great Newport Street, when a parcel of
second-hand volumes arrived from the country. When the parcel was
opened, the heart of the Bibliophile began to sing, for the packet
contained two old folios, one of them an old folio Shakespeare of
the second edition (1632). The volume (mark this) was "much
cropped," 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 the
possession of a Mr. Parry. On the other hand, Mr. Parry (then a
very aged man) failed to recognise his folio in Mr. Collier's, for
HIS copy was "cropped," whereas the leaves of Mr. Collier's example
were NOT mutilated. Here, then ('Inquiry,' pp. 12, 61), we have
two descriptions of the outward aspect of Mr. Collier's dubious
treasure. In one account it is "much cropped" by the book-binder's
cruel shears;
account, fell under the undying wrath of Samuel Ireland. Any reader
of Ireland's confessions will be likely to sympathise with old
Samuel as the dupe of his son. The whole story is told with a
curious mixture of impudence and humour, and with great
plausibility. Young Ireland admits that his "desire for laughter"
was almost irresistible, when people--learned, pompous, sagacious
people--listened attentively to the papers. One feels half inclined
to forgive the rogue for the sake of his youth, his cleverness, his
humour. But the 'Confessions' are, not improbably, almost as
apocryphal as the original documents. They were written for the
sake of money, and it is impossible to say how far the same
mercenary motive actuated Ireland in his forgeries. Dr. Ingleby, in
his 'Shakespeare Fabrications,' takes a very rigid view of the
conduct, not only of William, but of old Samuel Ireland. Sam,
according to Dr. Ingleby, was a partner in the whole imposture, and
the confession was only one element in the scheme of fraud. Old
Samuel was the Fagin of a band of young literary Dodgers. He
"positively trained his whole family to trade in forgery," and as
for Mr. W. H. Ireland, he was "the most accomplished liar that ever
lived," which is certainly a distinction in its way. The point of
the joke is that, after the whole conspiracy exploded, people were
anxious to buy examples of the forgeries. Mr. W. H. Ireland was
equal to the occasion. He actually forged his own, or (according to
Dr. Ingleby) his father's forgeries, and, by thus increasing the
supply, he deluged the market with sham shams, with imitations of
imitations. If this accusation be correct, it is impossible not to
admire the colossal impudence of Mr. W. H. Ireland. Dr. Ingleby, in
the ardour of his honest indignation, pursues William into his
private life, which, it appears, was far from exemplary. But
literary criticism should be content with a man's works; his
domestic life is matter, as Aristotle often says, "for a separate
kind of investigation." Old Ritson used to say that "every literary
impostor 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, in
regard to their own possible chastisement. The difficulty is to
ascertain who the apocryphal old corrector really was. The story of
his misdeeds was recently brought back to mind by the death, at an
advanced 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? how
deceived, or how influenced, it is once more "better only guessing."
Mr. Collier first introduced to the public notice his singular copy
of a folio Shakespeare (second edition), loaded with ancient
manuscript emendations, in 1849. His account of this book was
simple and plausible. He chanced, one day, to be in the shop of Mr.
Rudd, the bookseller, in Great Newport Street, when a parcel of
second-hand volumes arrived from the country. When the parcel was
opened, the heart of the Bibliophile began to sing, for the packet
contained two old folios, one of them an old folio Shakespeare of
the second edition (1632). The volume (mark this) was "much
cropped," 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 the
possession of a Mr. Parry. On the other hand, Mr. Parry (then a
very aged man) failed to recognise his folio in Mr. Collier's, for
HIS copy was "cropped," whereas the leaves of Mr. Collier's example
were NOT mutilated. Here, then ('Inquiry,' pp. 12, 61), we have
two descriptions of the outward aspect of Mr. Collier's dubious
treasure. In one account it is "much cropped" by the book-binder's
cruel shears;