2nd s. No 42., Oct. 18. '56.] 



NOTES AND QUERIES. 



601 



LONDON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 18. 1856. 



6TKAY NOTES ON EDMUND CURLL, HIS LIFE, AND 

 PUBLICATIONS. 



No. 1. — Introductory. 



" Long live old Curl! he ne'er to publish fears 

 The speeches, verses and last wills of Peers. 

 How oft has he a pablick spirit shown, 

 And pleased our ears regardless of his own ? 

 But to give Merit due, though CurTs the Fame, 

 Are not his Brothei -booksellers the same? 

 Can Statutes keep the British Press in awe. 

 When that sells best, that's most against the Law ? " 

 The Man of Taste, p. 7. 



The name of Edmund Curll figures so promi- 

 nently, if not honourably, among the bookselling 

 fraternity of the last century, that a few Notes on 

 his strange career, his publications regular and 

 irregular, his controversies with his contemporaries, 

 his tricks and his trials, may not be without in- 

 terest to the readers of " N. & Q." of the present 

 day, or without use to any writers who may here- 

 after undertake to give the world a literary history 

 of the period in which he flourished. 



The subject is not without its difficulties, for 

 Curll had the audacity to contend against Pope, 

 and has paid the penalty of his rashness, in a re- 

 putation for far more that is dirty and dishonour- 

 able than he altogether deserved. Few readers of 

 the present day can forget the poet's description of 

 his prostrate rival : 



" Obscene with filth the miscreant lies bewray'd, 

 Fall'n in the plash his wickedness had laid :" 



while the satirist's allusion to " Curll's chaste 

 press " have served to fix upon the general mind 

 the impression that all the books issued by him 

 were of a gross or immoral character. 



This, however, is far from being the case ; and 

 many will no doubt be surprised to learn that the 

 " Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Dr. South," 

 which Curll in 1717 prefixed to his Posthumous 

 Discourses, stands so high in the estimation of the 

 Syndics of the Clarendon press, that they continue 

 to the present day to prefix it to tlieir collected 

 edition of the Works of this great Divine. 



This is proof enough that Curll was not alto- 

 gether so black as he was painted ; and it is pro- 

 ba\)le that before these Notes are brought to an 

 end, the reader will think that Nichols did not do 

 more than justice when, in his Literary Anecdotes 

 (i. 456.), he spoke of him in the following terms : 



"The raemorj' of Edmund Curll," says John Nichols, 

 " has been transmitted to posterity with an obloquy more 

 severe than he deserved. Whatever were his demerits in 

 Laving occasionally published works that the present age 

 would very properly consider too licentious, he certainly 

 deserves commendation for his industry in preserving our 

 National Remains. And it may, perhaps, be added that 

 he did not publish a single volume but what, amidst a 



profusion of base metal, contained some precious ore, some 

 valuable reliques, which future collectors could nowhere 

 else have found." 



In order to form a just estimate of the cha- 

 racter of Curll, the then state of literature and of 

 the law must be taken into account. We must 

 remember how great were the restraints on the 

 liberty of the press which existed in his days, 

 when — 



" Ear-less on high stood pillory'd Defoe ; " 



how uncertain was the law of libel ; and how 

 heavy the penalties for publications which were 

 adjudged libellous. How undefined, or rather 

 worse than undefined, how degraded, was the po- 

 sition of the mere author by profession : and, as a 

 consequence of this state of things, what strange 

 shifts were occasionally adopted to escape the 

 risks which then awaited both authors and pub- 

 lishers, and adopted, too, by men of far higher 

 social position than Edmund Curll. 



The following extract from The Life of Mr. 

 Thomas Gent, Bookseller of York, affords a cu- 

 rious illustration of the means to which a bishop 

 resorted to bring before the public the case of au 

 injured clergyman : 



" I remember once a piece of work came in from a re • 

 verend bishop, whose pen was employed in vindicating 

 the reputation of Mr. Ken — sley, an honest clergyman, 

 who was committed to the King's Bench prison, through 

 an action of scandalum magnatum, though many thought 

 the truth was, he had only hinted in private to a certain 

 noble an heinous crime, that once brought down fire from 

 heaven, and which was revealed to him by a valet-de- 

 chambre upon a bed of sickness, when in a state of re- 

 pentance. And, though I composed the letters, and 

 think, if my memory does not fail me, that I helped to 

 work the matter off at press, too, yet I was not permitted 

 to know who was the author thereof; hut, however, when 

 finished, the papers were packed up, and delivered to my 

 care ; and the same night, my master hiring a coach, we 

 were driven to Westminster, where we entered into a 

 large sort of monastic building. 



" Soon were we ushered into a spacious hall, where we 

 sat near a large table, covered with an ancient carpet of 

 curious work, and whereon Avas soon laid a bottle of wine 

 for our entertainment. In a little time, we were visited 

 by a grave gentleman in a black lay habit, who enter- 

 tained us with one pleasant discourse or other. He bid 

 us be secret ; ' for,' said he, ' the imprisoned divine does 

 not know who is- his defender; if he did, I know his 

 temper : in a sort of transport he would reveal it, and s^o 

 I should be blamed for my good oflJce ; and, whether his 

 intention was designed to show his gratitude, j'et if a 

 man is hurt by a friend, the damage is the same as if 

 done by an enemy ; to prevent which, is the reason I de- 

 sire this concealment.' ' You need not fear me. Sir,' said 

 my master ; ' and 1, good Sir,' added I, 'you may be less 

 afraid of; for I protest I do not know where I ain, much 

 less your person ; nor heard where I should be driven, or 

 if I shall not be drove to Jerusalem before I get home 

 again ; nay, I shall forget I ever did the job by to-morrow ; 

 and, consequently, shall never answer any questions about 

 it, if demanded. Yet, Sir, 1 shall secretly remember your 

 generosit}', and drink to your health with this brimful 

 glass.' Thereupon, this set them both a-laughing ; and 

 truly I was got merrily tipsy, so merry, that I hardly 



