569 



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MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, o 



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RECORDS OP MY LIFE. BY THE LATE JOHN TAYLOR, ESQ. 2 VOL. 8vo. 



LONDON. 1832. 



WHATEVER it might please us, or however we might feel it to be our duty to 

 speak of this book, we should assuredly in no measure injure its sale, or de- 

 crease its popularity l - flo n '\ o ^ 



Whether it be an infirmity of our nature, a laudable curiosity, or a desire for 

 information, we know not ; but certain it is, that works of this kind, made up, 

 as they are, of gossiping stories and anecdotes of actors, second and third rate 

 authors, loose fellows about town, sometimes called wits and ladies of all 

 complexions and degrees of virtue, and other qualifications are far more inte- 

 resting to the general reader, than a grave analysis of human nature, or a pro- 

 found essay on the springs of human action.. ?ioqqfie 



The name of John Taylor is probably well known to most of our readers. He 

 was for many years proprietor of the Sun newspaper ; and being an easy and 

 pleasant companion (although afflicted by an incurable complaint of punning), 

 found ready access to a great variety of that peculiar company, whose integral 

 parts were composed of the people we have before alluded to. 



Of Mr. Taylor's qualifications, however, as a companion, we can only speak 

 from hearsay. What we have at present to do with, is his book, which con- 

 tains, indeed, a vast variety of anecdotes of persons, with whom, by the bye, 

 and with whose wit and humour, we should have thought the world had been 

 already nauseated. Others, again, whose peculiar merits, such as they are or 

 were, had been previously hidden from us, occasionally exhibit an absurd arro- 

 gance, and a self-complacent assumption of superiority, which alternately 

 divert and disgust us. 



'Now, we could have wished, when a blockhead was about to be led forward 

 for our inspection, that Mr. Taylor had possessed that discriminating power 

 i. which had enabled him to perceive the asinine qualities of his specimen ; but, 

 unfortunately, the author produces the individual with a grave face, and, in 

 many instances, calls upon us to admire him as a very Solomon or a perfect 

 Hector. 



While, then, we receive a great portion of Mr. Taylor's book as a faithful 

 account of what he has heard and seen, we beg to form our own opinions of the 

 persons who compose the staple of his book ; and which we acknowledge his 

 perfect right to believe Dr. Monsey and Peter Pindar (Dr. Walcot) humourists 

 and wits of the first water, we humbly beg to be permitted to consider the 

 former an arrogant old blockhead ; and the latter an envious and malignant 

 buffoon. 



Let us justify our opinion. Dr. Monsey was, fifty years ago, physician to 

 Chelsea Hospital, and has long ago fallen into almost entire oblivion. Among 

 many other good things said by the Doctor, Mr. Taylor relates, that " Monsey 

 had a great contempt for Warburton, whose learning he distrusted, and whose 

 .abilities he despised :" and that " Dr. Monsey told me, that he placed Mr. Burke 

 in a ludicrous situation, soon after the first publication of his work on the 

 " Sublime and Beautiful." Meeting Mr. Burke, I believe, at Mrs. Montague's, 

 he said, with his usual blunt sincerity, ' Mr. Burke, I have read your work on 

 the Sublime, but I don't understand it. To me it appears to be nothing but 

 ' about it, goddess, and about it.' What do you mean by sublime ? It seems 

 to me inconsistent with nature and common sense." 



" The company looked on Mr. Burke, anxious for his answer. The Doctor 

 said he seemed to be a little puzzled and embarrassed, and only said, in answer, 

 ' There is certainly a sublime in nature, though I cannot at once define it.' " 



