Living in the secluded village of Hatton, near Leamington, but in the immediate neighbourhood of a well-frequented watering-place, it was not by the idlers who dined in his company one day at an ordinary, or who lounged over to Hatton, in order (in the modern silly phrase) "to see a lion," that Dr. Parr was to be known or appreciated. The great characteristic of Dr. Parr's conversation was originality, united to an utter contempt of what might be the prevailing fashion of the day. Habits of intercourse were necessary to distinguish his serious from his jocose style and in the presence of indifferent persons he would sometimes support an opinion or an argument "to make them stare," which they would be very idly employed in setting down as his real dispassionate sentiments. It was in a visit to Leamington, during the summer of the year 1818, that the author had the pleasure of being introduced to Dr. Parr—an introduction which was followed by the advantage of his friendship and society, whenever circumstances permitted it, up to the moment of his lamented death. He was, at the time of first seeing him, in his seventy-second year, with none of his activity or intellectual vivacity impaired. In a recent publication he has been gratuitously presented with a lack-lustre eye." This must have been for the hackneyed pleasure of quoting Shakspeare, for never was there anything so unlike "lack-lustre as the eyes of Dr. Parr. They possessed uncommon fire and expression for his time of life: and were of that fine grey (more brilliant than blue, brown, or black,) that so often forms the index to the features of uncommon genius. He held his head a little on one side, in the Johnsonian manner; his features were rather agreeable than otherwise; his wig not quite so large as has been described, but still sufficient, with his grey bushy eye-brows, to give a remarkable character to his face; his figure was middle-sized, not much inclining to corpulence, and his clerical dress (which has been, so often compared to and mistaken for that of a bishop), was such as he had a right to, as a prebend of St. Paul's. The manner of Dr. Parr was at that time frank, cordial, and somewhat boisterous. Sickness and sorrow afterwards subdued it to the mildest tone. An invitation to Hatton afforded an opportunity of enjoying the rich treat of his conversation in his social hours; and as every thing must be interesting connected with the scene which his talents and virtues so long adorned, we will prefix a short description of the locale, before we arrive at the presiding genius of the place. Hatton Parsonage, which rises modestly by the, road-side, only separated from it by a very small garden in front, consists, besides the sleeping-rooms and offices, of three rooms on the ground floor, the library, a little smoking-room, and the drawing-room, every article of the furniture of which is now endeared by the remembrance of him who made it the centre of social pleasure, enlivening it by his wisdom and his wit. To the right of the fire-place was a massive fauteuil, the gift of one of his scholars, adorned with tapestry, and as inaccessible as the books to anybody but the Doctor. Over his head were prints, framed, and hung in a sort of order, called "the scholar's compartment." In the centre was Porson; beneath him, Twining the critic. To the right of Porson, Thomas Warton and Dr. Johnson; to the left, Gilbert Wakefield and Oliver Goldsmith. Alluding to" Dr. Johnson's epitaph on Goldsmith, the Doctor observed, smiling, there was "a little mistake in the Latin of that." Then turning to the portrait of Twining, "that was a clever fellow," he said, "a good scholar, but a sad ugly dog. It is not necessary for a man to be handsome, but I should be sorry to be as ugly as Twining!" Over the chimney hung a painting of Dr. Parr, in his red doctor's hood, and on his right and left Horner, Esq. M.P., and Sir Samuel Romilly. Beside this painting, a good bust and engraving of Dr. Parr ornamented the sitting-room. Two views of Harrow (a place so intimately connected with his earlier classical recollections), two views of Salisbury, and a fine design from an antique Neapolitan vase, formed nearly all the decoration of this kind that the room exhibited. A footstool covered with cats in tent-stitch, the needle-work done by one of the daughters of the late Duchess of Gordon, formed an appropriate companion to the worked elbow-chair, and was carefully prized by the Doctor. The library, which was also the eating-room, was a spacious apartment, lined with books, not splendidly bound, but, as Moore delightfully said, "looking like books that could be made free with." In this, however, he would have been woefully mistaken. The roses of Azor were not more jealously guarded than the Doctor's books. No one durst touch them under pain of death, unless the master offered them: and, as a convincing reason for this prohibition, the Doctor, mentioned, when he formerly permitted his guests the unbounded use of his library, curious passages, and even engravings, had been cut out of his favourite books! a species of unprincipled depredation to which nothing but the conscience of an amateur could ever be reconciled. He would lend books himself, however. I once saw a singular one, which a young lady was reading at his recommendation-the life of George Psalmanzar. Not only the library, but the landing-place of the first floor, and the passages leading to the sleeping-rooms, were tapissés de livres. The quantity thus accumulated was sometimes mentioned as one of the reasons for the Doctor's unwillingness to quit Hatton, although a village of few resources, from the difficulty he would have found in safely removing all his books. At dinner the Doctor talked a great deal of Homer, and the unabated "rapture with which he read him," and supported (but I think sportively) Bryant's hypothesis, that the Iliad was not the work of Homer, but that of several poets first collected by him; but the novelty of a first introduction, and the variety of new objects, prevented the author from giving such undivided attention to the Doctor's conversation as in subsequent opportunities: so that we shall here put down, without farther particularizing dates, such remarks and opinions, given at different times, as may be truly termed his "table-talk.' In the opinion of Dr. Parr, the five best writers of English style were : Gray, the poet; Uvedale Price, author of a Treatise upon Landscape Gardening; Dr. Shipley, Bishop of St. Asaph; Dugald Stewart, and Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Next to these, but at a long interval, he placed John Horne Tooke! Of Gray he seemed to think it scarcely possible to speak with suffi The author doubted whether a more distinct allusion would be consistent with delicacy towards the unobtrusive merit that never in any way courted public admiration, but it would be unpardonable here to omit to mention, that the second Mrs. Parr, who at that time did the honours of his house, was in person, manners, and conduct every thing calcnlated to do honour to her husband's choice, and gild the evening of his days. cient enthusiasm. He said that his Elegy would live for ever; that a great deal of his Odes would live; but then added, that there was a passage in one of them which was nonsense. The author of this "notice" asking him what it was? he replied "I won't tell you; most people think it very fine." He blamed him freely for that indolence which prevented Gray, with his vast powers of mind, from communicating a portion of his extensive knowledge in lectures. But it was as a scholar and a critic that, in Dr. Parr's opinion, Gray soared beyond all possibility of competition. "When I read his observations upon Plato," said the Doctor, "my first impression was to exclaim, Why did I not write this?'" he added, "that Gray alone possessed the merit of avoiding the error into which all the other commentators on Plato had fallen." There were no fine-spun theories, no metaphysical nonsense in Gray. He considered Mason as utterly unworthy to be his editor: that "he had not powers to comprehend the depth and extent of such a mind as Gray's, and, being no scholar himself, had suppressed, from feeling of envy, some part of Gray's various and extensive learning." But of Mr. Mathias's edition of Gray he had the highest opinion. He said "it did his subject perfect justice." He had a high esteem for Mathias as a scholar (which name, I suspect, conveyed from his lips greater praise than that of a genius), and considered the following verses on Gray, in the "Pursuits of Literature," very striking. "Go then, and view, since closed his cloistered day, Dark was his morn of life, and bleak the spring, He finished by observing that, " had he known him, he should have esteemed and honoured Gray, but that he could not have liked him." The "Pursuits of Literature" reminds me of an anecdote of the Doctor which he related of himself with great pleasure, and which exhibited him in the exercise of his magnanimity, one of his favourite virtues. Every reader of that classic performance must remember the rather ill-natured and (I think) unfounded attack upon the Doctor's "unpresentability," which one of the notes contains. However opinions may differ upon that subject, the note was certainly one most difficult for the object of it to forgive, as directly attacking his personal peculiarities. Dr. Parr, however, with the noble liberality of genius, overlooked whatever was offensive to himself in admiration of the writer's talents. To use his own words, he wrote to him, introducing himself, and soliciting his acquaintance "as an honour to learning.' "We exchanged presents," continued the Doctor; and I may conclude this anecdote with remarking, that I do not doubt that the author, after this intercourse with Dr. Parr, perceived the errors into which the most enlightened reporters may fall, who trust in their observation upon a great man to hearsay, and the exaggerated statements of others. Another writer for whom Dr. Parr had a great esteem, was Mr. Roscoe, author of the Life of Lorenzo de Medici, and Life and Ponti ficate of Leo the Tenth. It was on occasion of one of those works that he said he wrote to Mr. Roscoe a letter of ten pages "full of criticism." Another occasion of displaying his magnanimity was in the case of the late Lord Byron, whose introduction to him took place, according to the description of a celebrated living poet, in the following manner. Dr. Parr, all heartiness and classical enthusiasm, advanced with extended hand to greet the young nobleman, whom he considered as promising to be an equal honour to the cause of literature, learning, and liberal sentiment. Lord Byron, instead of meeting his advances, drew up stiffly, put out his foot, as if describing an unapproachable circle, and made no movement to receive the Doctor's proffered hand. The bad taste (to say no more) of this behaviour in a young man, to the venerable representative of the wit and learning of half a century, can only be defended upon the plea of that morbid eccentricity, which at moments transformed his Lordship from one of the most fascinating into one of the most repulsive of men. Such was his reception of the advances of the venerable Chancellor, when he went to take his seat in the House of Peers, as related by Mr. Dallas. Be that as it may, Dr. Parr never sufed this incident to bias his judgment in deciding upon his Lordship's literary merits, to which (as far as mere genius goes) he was ever ready to pay the tribute of the most unqualified praise; and that not when he was the loadstone of popular attractions, but in his exile, in his unpopularity. The generous spirit of Parr seemed to rise at the slightest appearance of persecution: I have heard him say, "Campbell is a poet: Byron, with all his vices, is a poet; but (as if recollecting himself) he is unamiable." Such was the gentle censure that memory extorted from Dr. Parr !+ Excepting that of Byron, Moore, and Campbell, Dr. Parr thought little of the poetry of the present day: although he was the enthusiast of that of an age gone by, that of Pope, Young, Gray, Goldsmith, Thomson, Beattie; and used to say jocosely to the ladies, "The great mischief Walter Scott does is to you women; he has destroyed your taste for poetry, exquisite, pure, moral poetry." Another time he said, turning to a lady in company, "It is you women who have spoiled him, and made him what he is. His poetry is already forgotten. There was that Marmion, about which such a fuss was made"-Here the lady interposed in praise of the favourite poem of her favourite bard. Nay, nay," interrupted the Doctor, with affected ferocity, but real good-humour, "If once you begin to cant about Walter Scott, I have done." He observed that he had at once renounced the grander resources of poetic harmony, by chusing the octave measure. The purity of Dr. Parr's 66 If there is error in any of these statements, the author begs the subjects of them to correct them, but with candour; as they are repeated verbatim from the Doctor's own mouth. + One who had so frequently the advantage of hearing him, cannot be suspected of having so little profited by that living lesson of liberality, as to intend by this anecdote to cast additional shadow on the memory of an unfortunate nobleman, whose faults, it is humbly hoped, were partly expiated by his toils and sufferings, and of whose glorious end it might with truth be said, that "nothing in his life became him like the leaving it." When, in the course of these scattered recollections, his name, or that of other distinguished persons occur with praise or blame, it must always be kept in mind that they are mentioned chiefly with reference to Dr. Parr, and in order to illustrate some of his sentiments or opinions. Admitting this, perhaps it will be remarked the ladies have not much to reproach themselves. classical taste, too, prevented the sparkling gaiety, faithful description, and splendid imagery, that pervade the works of this admired poet, atoning for the careless versification and simple antique phraseology. From the works of Walter Scott we proceeded, by I know not what metaphysical association of ideas, to those of The Great Unknown, to which the Doctor was disposed to allow as little quarter. He called his novels all" books taken out of other books." A visitor present said, "Oh, surely, sir, you will allow him merit in dialogue?" Dr. Parr." No, sir: not in dialogue."* Lord Byron being mentioned; he burst into the following animated apostrophe: Byron the sorcerer! he can do with me according to his will. If it is to place me on the summit of a dizzy cliff; if it is to throw me headlong into the abyss; to transport me to Elysium, or to leave me alone upon a desert isle, his power is the same. I wish Lord Byron had a friend, or a servant, appointed to the office of the slave who was to knock every morning at the chamber-door of Philip of Macedon and remind him he was mortal." In perusing these bursts, the reader must ever bear in mind the peculiar character of Dr. Parr-that classical enthusiasm and fire of sensibility and genius which nothing could tame or quench, and that boldness which," thinking no evil," never sought safety in tame or modified expressions. The introduction to Moore, the poet, displayed in its full light this peculiarity of the Doctor's. It took place about the period of the beginning of these recollections. The poet of freedom, of course, was animated and brilliant, and Dr. Parr delighted with him. At parting, he presented him from his library with a volume of poetry of one of the Latin authors of the middle ages, on which Mr. Moore seemed to set a great value. Another time, he desired his lady to join him in expressing her sense of his merit; and, on her hesitating, resumed, in his energetic manner, "She won't speak; but I'll tell you what she is: she is fascinated." He was unfeignedly delighted with "The Fudge Family;" yet seemed humorously to think an apology necessary for reading it. "It is seldom," he observed (like Parson Adams,) "that I read a modern work. No, no, I have all these in my head," pointing to his classic library. The habits of Dr. Parr were favourable both to long life and to literary occupation. "I am a six o'clock man," he used to say, when in the 76th year of his age. The precious time thus gained in the morning was devoted to his books; and the rest of the day to social intercourse, and the various duties into which his time was divided. In his engagements he was severely punctual, and justly exacted the same punctuality in return. By this means he was enabled to transact a prodigious variety of business-to keep up a constant intercourse of good neighbourhood-and to give advice-good offices-or still more. important assistance to the numbers who looked up to him as their temporal protector, or spiritual guide. He was adored by the poorer part of his parishioners: being always equally attentive to administer to their wants, and to promote their innocent pleasures. To be continued. * It is observable, that although Dr. Parr cherished this distaste for the novels of the Author of Waverley, it did not extend to the other Scotch novels; I have seen in his library Galt's " Ayrshire Legatees," with the words "presented to Dr. Parr by the very ingenious author," in the Doctor's own hand-writing; and, what is more remarkable, that very novel made free with the Doctor's habiliments, describing the Presbyterian clergyman, Mr. Pringle, as returning adorned with "a parish wig" from his excursion to London. |