Thursday, 17 October 2019

Les Journées Amusantes in Italian

The first six days (only) of Madeleine Angélique Poisson de Gomez’s Les Journées Amusantes (Paris: G. Saugrain, Charles le Clerc, Ándre Morin, 1722–31) was translated into Italian by Pietro Chiari, and published under the title Li Giorni di Divertimento in 1758. This 1758 translation was reprinted in 1777. To the best of my knowledge, the only modern critic to mention Li Giorni di Divertimento is Séverine Genieys-Kirk, and she only mentions the 1777 edition in her account of translations of Les Journées Amusantes.**



I mentioned Li Giorni di Divertimento in my previous posts on the translations of Les Journées Amusantes (here) and the illustration of this work in translations—such as Eliza Haywood's La Belle Assemblee—(here). In both posts I mentioned the 1758 edition, but with a question mark.



As the illustrations to this post suggest, I can now remove the question mark, because I have managed to buy a copy of the first volume of the 1758 edition (which, as the image below shows, contains three days: Primo, Secondo, and Terzo Gionrno).



After landing my copy and doing a bit more research, I have realised how very fortunate I was to be able to find a copy of this edition so quickly. As far as I can tell only a single set is held in any institutional library anywhere in the world (and this is not in Italy) and only one set has appeared at auction in the last two centuries (and that was in 1871).

The only known set of Li Giorni di Divertimento is held by the Bodleian Library [Vet. F5 e.310]. The Bodleian catalogue describes their set as follows: each volume is bound in original bookseller's limp pasteboards, with stitching exposed and leaves uncropped (the same as mine, see below) and is 19cm tall; an engraved frontispiece in v.1 (above and below) depicts "Madame de Gomez writing in a book-lined study."



The full title and imprint are: Li Giorni di divertimento, di Madama di Gomez, tradotti dal francese. Tomo primo.[-secondo.] (In Venezia: Presso Domenico Deregni, con licenza de' superiori, e privilegio, 1758). The Bodleian copy appears on WorldCat; no copy is recorded on the Union Catalogue of Italian Libraries (here), the The European Library (here) etc. If anyone is able to locate another copy, I'd love to hear about it.



Below is an account (in Italian, and badly translated) of the publication by Francesco Antonio Zaccaria (here) from when the translation first appeared, followed by a contemporary review (in French, and badly translated), and then all the later references I can find for copies in auction catalogues etc.

**(Séverine Genieys-Kirk, “Eliza Haywood’s translation and dialogic reading of Madeleine-Angelique de Gomez’s Journées amusantes (1722-1731),” in Translators, Interpreters, Mediators: Women Writers 1700-1900, edited by Gillian E. Dow (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2007), 37.)

* * * * *

[Francesco Antonio Zaccaria], Memorie per servire all'istoria letteraria (appresso Pietro Valvasense. In Merceria all'Insegna del tempo, 1758), 399–400 (here).

Amico Carissimo,
Venezia, 2 Novembre

IN contrassegno della memoria, che di voi conservo, benchè da molto tempo lontano, mi dò il piacere di mandarvi il presente Libro (a). Egli è adattato alla corrente stagione, ed opportuno alla deliziosa villeggiatura, che siete vicino a godere in codesti amenissimi vostri colli, ove avrete tutto l'agio di leggerlo, e gustarlo. So veramente, che non siete molto amico dell'Opere Romanzesche, e non andate dietro alla corrente del volgo, che in questi tempi, piucchè in altro mai, le gradisce, e ne pregia, e favorisce gli Autori; ma pur mi lusingo, che siate per leggere la presente con piacere, non già per semplice effetto di vostra amicizia verso di me, che ve ne spedisco una copia, ma in forza del suo merito, che a mio parere la deve rendere immune dal pericolo di venir con quelle confusa. Basta leggerne il nome dell'Autore Francese per esserne persuaso, essendo questi la celebre Madama di Gomez, che nel pubblicare questo gentil |400| parto del suo felice ingegno non lo giudicò immeritevole d'essere da lei umiliato al presente Augusto Monarca della Francia, che in quel tempo era ancora nella sua adolescenza. Troverete in questo primo Tomo, che solo vi mando, per essere l'altro ancora sotto il torchio, mille tratti d'erudizione, di Storia, di Politica, e di Morale Dottrina; vi sorprenderanno due Dissertazioni una sopra l'amore, l'altra sopra lo spirito; e non potrete a meno d' ammirare alcuni avvertimenti dati da una Madre a sua Figlia sopra la condotta generale della sua vita. Li racconti, che vi si trovano inseriti, sono bensì favolosi, e trattano di materie amorose, ma le trattano saggiamente, e in guisa che devono servire, non a guastare, ma ad istruire il Lettore. Li caratteri delle persone vi sono espressi a meraviglia, e ci danno l'idea del vero conversare, non quale è in uso a nostri tempi, ma quale dovrebbe essere. In una parola questo è un Libro nel suo genere eccellente, come nella Prefazione con tutta giustizia l' asserisce lo Stampatore; e se v'è qualche difetto lo è della traduzione, che si conosce fatta frettolosamente, ma che però se non è ottima, non è neppure delle cattive. Leggetelo che sarà per aggradirvi. Addio.

(a) Li giorni di divertimento di Madama di Gomez, tradotti dal Francese. Tomo I. in Venezia 1758, presso Domenico Deregni, con licenza de' Superiori, e Privilegio.


[Dear friend,
Venice, 2 November.
IN the mark of memory, which I have kept from you, although I have been away for a long time, I am pleased to send you this Book (a). It is adapted to the current season, and appropriate to the delightful holiday, that you are close to enjoying in these very pleasant hills, where you will have all the leisure to read it, and taste it. I really know that you are not very fond of Romance work, and do not go after the current of the vulgar, who in these times, more than ever, likes them, and prizes them, and favors the Authors; but I do, however, flatter myself that you are going to read the present with pleasure, not just as a result of your friendship towards me, that I send you a copy, but by virtue of its merit, which in my opinion must render it immune from the danger to come with those confused. It is enough to read the name of the French author to be persuaded, this being the famous Madame of Gomez, who in giving birth to her | 400 | happy ingenuity did not consider it undeserving of being submitted by her to the present Augustus Monarch of France, who at that time was still in his adolescence. You will find in this first volume, that I send you only, the other being still in the press, a thousand traits of scholarship, of History, Politics, and Moral Doctrine; two dissertations will surprise you, one above love, the other above the spirit; and you cannot fail to admire some warnings given by a Mother to her Daughter over the general conduct of her life. The stories, which are inserted in them, are indeed fabulous, and deal with loving matters, but treat them wisely, and in such a way that they must serve, not to spoil, but to instruct the Reader. People's characters are wonderfully expressed, and give us the idea of true conversing, not which is in use in our times, but which should be. In a word, this is an excellent book of its kind, as the Printer states in the Preface, with justice; and if there is any defect it is the translation, which is known to have been made hastily, but which, if it is not excellent, is not even bad. Read it to please you. Goodbye.
]



The first volume of a 1758 edition was reviewed in Annales typographiques, 2 (July 1760): 249–50 (no. 181; here):

I giorni di divertimento di madama di Gomez; tradotto dal francese, tomo I. In Venezia, presso Domenico Deregni, con licenza de’ superiori e privilegio, 1758, in-12.
Les journées amusantes de madame de Gomez, tome I. A Venise, chez Dominique Deregni, avec permission et privilége des superieurs, 1758, in-12.
Tout y répond au titre, tout y est amusant, non seulement pour ceux qui ne veulent qu’être amusés, mais même pour ceux qui veulent être inftruits: differtations, réflexions morales, fićtions romanesques, avantures galantes, traits d'histoire, anecdotes; tout cela ferencontre dans cet ouvrage.
On trouve aussi dans ce premier volume deux dissertations, l’une sur l’amour, & l’autre sur l’esprit.
Quoique la tradustion he sçauroit passer pour excellente, elle n’est cependant pas mauvaise. M.


[Everything answers to the title, everything is amusing, not only for those who only want to be amused, but even for those who want to be educated: dissertations, moral reflections, romantic fictions, gallant adventures, characteristics of history, anecdotes; all this is found in this book. There are also two dissertations in this first volume, one on love and the other on the mind. Although the translation would be considered excellent, it is however, not bad. M.]



A copy of volume 1 is recorded in this 1767 catalogue; a two-volume set is recorded as item 4410 in this 1774 catalogue, plus this 1793 catalogue; volume 2 appears as item 217 in this 1802 catalogue; and two volumes bound together appear as item 3209 in this 1871 catalogue.

Saturday, 21 September 2019

The Devil in Love revisited

In the first of three updates to my Halloween 2011 post on Cazotte’s The Devil in Love (here), I mentioned that I had discovered there were a number of American editions of this novel. In that post, I provided details of four original editions (representing four different translations: 1791, 1793, 1798, 1810), and three modern editions (1925, 1991 and 1993).

The three American editions I discovered in 2012 were those of 1810 (New York), 1828 and 1830 (Boston). Not having access to any of these online, I suggested at that time, that “it seems most likely that they are all reprints of no.2—the 1793 edition.”



Since writing the above, I have acquired a copy of The Devil in Love that was printed in Boston in 1828.



As you can see above, this edition has a charming frontispiece of “Biondetta Playing On The Harp”; and as you can see below, the Boston text matches—as I suspected it would—no.2 in my previous post, the 1793 edition. This edition starts “At five and twenty I was a Captain of the Guards in the service of the King of Naples, and lived in gay society …”



The two Boston editions are somewhat similar in size and length, suggesting one may be a reprint of the other. It is likely that Peaslee's the Boston edition is itself a reprint of Van Winkle's New York edition, but this is something I will only be able to establish in the unlikely event that I end up with a copy to compare my Boston edition to.



Below is my updated list of editions of The Devil in Love. Since 2011, three of the early editions have been added to Google Books, so I have added links to these. I have also passed on my copy of Biondetta, or the Enamoured Spirit, which illustrates my previous post, to Monash University, and have updated the holdings accordingly.

* * * * *

[1] Alvarez, Or, Irresistible Seduction; A Spanish Tale (London: W. Richardson, 1791). ¶ On Google Books (here). ESTC: t226198 (recording 2 copies); “When I was five-and-twenty years old, I was a captain in the the King of Naples’ guards: we lived very sociably among ourselves …”

[2] The Devil in Love, Translated from the French (London: Hookham and Carpenter, 1793). ¶ ESTC: t71529 (4 copies); on ECCO; “At five and twenty I was a Captain of the Guards in the service of the King of Naples, and lived in gay society …”

[3] The Enamoured Spirit (London: Lee and Hurst, Bell, Millar and J. Wright, 1798). ¶ On Google Books (here). ESTC: t210676 (2 copies); “At the age of five-and-twenty I was Captain in the Guards of His Majesty the King of Naples, and kept constant company with my brother officers”

[4] Biondetta, or the Enamoured Spirit (London: J. Miller, 1810). ¶ On Google Books (here). I have located nine copies: L [1458.d.16] and O [Fic. 27524 e.164]; CaSRU [PQ 1961 C5 A6413 1810]; CtY [Hfd29 151N], DLC [PZ3.C3197 B FT MEADE], MH-H [*EC8 L5875 Y810c], PSt [PQ1961.C5A65 1810], ViU [PZ2.C39 B 1810]; VMoU [840.5 C386 A6/B]; “At the age of five and twenty I was a captain in the guards of the King of Naples.”

[4A] The Devil in Love (New York: C. S. Van Winkle, 1810). pp: 178: i–viii 9-178; 17cm ¶ One copy: NNYSL [Ham C3865 D3].

[4B] The Devil in Love (Boston: J. P. Peaslee, 1828). ¶ pp. 102: i–vi 7–102; illus.; 12cm. ¶ One copy: AuPC-PS [lacking i–ii?]; also recorded here as having being in the “Library of the Hasty-Pudding Club in Harvard” in 1841. “At the age of five and twenty I was a captain in the guards of the King of Naples.”

[4C] The Devil in Love (Boston: N. H. Whitaker, 1830). pp. 110; illus.; 12cm ¶ Three copies: DeU [PQ1961 .C5 A6413 1830], MH-H [GEN 40516.6.2*], InU-Li [PQ1961.C5 D513 1830].

[5] The Devil in Love (London: Heinemann; Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1925). Limited edition (UK: 75 copies; US: 365 copies) ¶ Reprints translation no. 2; available online on Europeana, courtesy of the Bodleian Library (direct link to PDF here)

[6] The Devil in Love, translated by Judith Landry (Dedalus, 1991; 2nd ed. 2011). ¶ “At the age of twenty-five I was a captain of the king's Guards at Naples; we kept our own company much of the time …”

[7] The Devil in Love. Followed by Jacques Cazotte: His Life, Trial, Prophecies, and Revelations by Gerard de Nerval, translated by Stephen Sartarelli (Marsilio, 1993). ¶ “At the age of twenty-five I was a Captain of the Guards in the service of the King of Naples. We lived much of our time …”

Thursday, 19 September 2019

The Australian Fanny Hill

Apparently, "one of the few objectionable productions of the Australian press" (*) appeared in 1878: The Life of Emily Duncan; an Autobiography; with Introduction by Robert Coles (Sydney, N.S.W., 1878).

Information about this Aussie Fanny Hill appears as item 521 in Bibliotheca Arcana seu Catalogus Librorum Penetralium (London: George Redway, 1885), a bibliography of erotica that appeared under the authorship of "Speculator Morum," but which is generally ascribed to Sir William Laird Clowes (see here).

Bibliotheca Arcana seems to have been based on a mix of entries taken from two erotic bibliographies by Henry Spencer Ashbee, and cuttings from contemporary, unidentified booksellers' catalogues. (I discuss this item in my post on "An 1886 review of Bibliotheca Arcana" here.)

Sadly, The Life of Emily Duncan is not known to survive, and is not known from any other source (i.e., it is not cribbed from Ashbee, and does not appear in any surviving bookseller's catalogue, bibliography etc.)

Clowes, however, reproduces more than the just the title of this volume. From him, we learn that it was published in Sydney in twelve octavo sheets (192pp: xxiv, 168).

The text is characterised as follows by Clowes:

One of the few objectionable productions of the Australian press. Emily Duncan, a woman of some personal attractions, kept a house of ill-fame in Sydney, some years ago; and, after her retirement, wrote this life of herself her paramour, Robert Coles, contributing a preface, in which the authoress's charms are very minutely described.

Alfred Rose simplifies this characterisation as follows (Registrum Librorum Eroticorum (1936), 1.197 (no.2645), citing Bibliotheca Arcana 521): "An Australian work similar to 'Fanny Hill'.”

I have been unable to identify either the Sydney Madam Emily Duncan (active, I would guess, in the 1870s) or her paramour, Robert Coles. It would not be very surprising that both the names and the place of publication are fictitious. But it would be nice to examine the book itself for further clues, to identify either the printer, or Ms Duncan.

* !! I imagine there were citizens of Sydney who, in 1885, would have thought that there were a great many productions of the Australian press that were "objectionable." However, the only other item printed in Sydney in either Clowes's or Rose's bibliographies is the 1925, Fanfrolico Press edition of Lysistrata illustrated by Norman Lindsay (Registrum Librorum Eroticorum (1936), 1.204; no.2743).

Melbourne appears twice in Rose (but not in Clowes), once for W. J. Chidley's The Answer (1.64; no. 838) and once for Tales of the Villa Brigitte, translated from the French by M.A. Oxon (London [and] Melbourne: H. J. Vicar, Sons [and] Co., 1910), 2 vols (2.329; no. 4444)—but this is something to explore on another day.

An 1886 review of Bibliotheca Arcana

The rather harsh review of Bibliotheca Arcana seu Catalogus Librorum Penetralium (1885) below seems to have attracted no notice at all. This is not terribly surprising since this erotic bibliography has attracted little comment of any scope beyond its authorship (generally ascribed to Sir William Laird Clowes, see here).

The page-long review appeared in Book-lore: A Magazine Devoted to Old Time Literature, vol. 3 (January 1886): 53 (here). In this review, the reviewer complains that "the compilation"—"it is nothing better"—had been "put together without system or classification," that it "displays neither grasp of the subject, critical acumen, nor bibliographical treatment," and that it has "the appearance of cuttings from a bookseller’s catalogue" rather "than notices by a bibliographer."

The reviewer goes on to note "the influence of two much more important and thoroughly done bibliographies" on Bibliotheca Arcana. The bibliographies are not named, but those with a copy of the book being reviewed could follow the opaque references provided to identify these as two erotic bibliographies by Henry Spencer Ashbee.

In 1982, Patrick Kearney simply echoes these anonymous complaints, when he describes the Bibliotheca Arcana as "heavily cribbed" from Ashbee's erotic bibliographies, and that (an unspecified number of) entries had "been culled from unidentified sale catalogues" (A History of Erotic Literature (1982), 13).

In 2017, Sarah Bull repeated Kearney's observations (without citation) when she states that "The composition of Clowes's Bibliotheca Arcana … is so similar [to the works of Ashbee] that the bibliographer has often been accused of plagiarizing Ashbee's work" ("Reading, Writing, and Publishing an Obscene Canon: The Archival Logic of the Secret Museum, c. 1860–c. 1900," Book History, Vol. 20 (2017), 230 [emphasis added]).

In his Clandestine Erotic Fiction in English, 1800–1930 (1993), Peter Mendes included a "Checklist of Clandestine Catalogues, 1885–c. 1930." This checklist includes a catalogue from January 1899 by Charles Carrington that mirrors the title of Clowes's Bibliotheca Arcana:

To be kept under Lock-and-Key. Bibliotheca Arcana. Being a rough list of rare, curious and uncommon books, pamphlets, prints & engravings that have been Privately Printed, Prohibited by Law, Seized, Anathematized, Burnt or Bowdlerized; more particularly, those relating to the Mysteries of Human Affinities, or dealing with the Attractions and Aversions—Vices and Virtues—Loves and Longings—Hates and Failings—Passions and Peculiarities of Live, Moving, Men and Women—and throwing light upon the Psychology of Sex [Held British Library, Cup.364.g.48].

Bull describes the preface to this catalogue as "plagiarizing liberally" from Clowes's Bibliotheca Arcana (249), but does not say anything of the source of the entries.

All I can add regarding this last question—the non-Ashbee material in the Bibliotheca Arcana—is that at least one of the items cribbed from "unidentified sale catalogues" is not known to survive, is not known from any other source (i.e., it is not cribbed from Ashbee): I discuss this item in my post on "The Australian Fanny Hill" (here).

* * * * *

Bibliotheca Arcana seu Catalogus Librorum Penetralium: being brief notices of books that have been secretly printed, prohibited by law, seized, anathematized, burnt or Bowdlerized. By SPECULATOR MORUM. London: George Redway, MDCCCLXXXV. Small 4to., pp. xxii. 141 and xxv.

WE are always ready to hail with a cordial welcome every book on bibliography, of which the notices are at first-hand, done conscientiously, and de visu[*]. This seems to be the case with the Bibliotheca Arcana, although we must take exception to it on other grounds. The books noticed, the nature of which is sufficiently explained on the title-page, are of a kind which renders it desirable that they should not be made very generally known. Many hold that every book has a utility of some sort, nullus est liber tarn mains qui non exaliqua parte prosit[†]; others that all books, irrespective of their subjects or tendencies, should be catalogued. It is not for us to argue either point here, and as the Bibliotheca Arcana is an expensive publication, is issued, we believe, to subscribers only, and is well printed on excellent paper, its existence may for these reasons be condoned. But we fear it will be found of little service to the bibliophiles, for whom it is evidently destined: it is put together without system or classification; the entries are undigested, and have more the appearance of cuttings from a bookseller’s catalogue than notices by a bibliographer; neither are the works by the same author or the various editions of the same book brought together, but are dispersed in various articles, and spread over several pages; translations are served up as original works; books issued at different times with different titles are treated as distinct works; there are numerous errors which we cannot in this journal paint out. In fact, the compilation (it is nothing better) displays neither grasp of the subject, critical acumen, nor bibliographical treatment. “The entries,” we are told, “have been arranged (?) without any reference either to subjects or authors. The index which is appended will enable the student to classify for himself.” This is all very well, but it is not for the guest to arrange the entertainment to which he is invited.

The preface is the best part of the book. “It would be an interesting task,” writes Speculator Morum, “for an essayist to describe the progress and fortunes of the erotic in art and literature from the earliest times down to the present day, to show how eroticism was in some mysterious way at the root of all ancient religions; and to point out how, instead of being looked askance upon, it was actually favoured and patronized by priests, poets, sculptors, dramatists, and philosophers in the classic ages, which have handed down to us not only literature, but also pictures, statues, and gems, tinged with the most extreme eroticism, and yet truly lovely in their design and workmanship.” Interesting as such a task might be, we doubt whether the author is to be found, at any rate in England, likely to undertake it. We cannot but think that we trace, both in the preface and in the general idea and form of the book itself, the influence of two much more important and thoroughly done bibliographies of the same description of books, lately privately printed, and which are noted in arts. 6 and 7 of the Bibliotheca Arcana [§]. As in the Bibliographic des Ouvrages relatifs a I’Amour of Gay, many books have been introduced which are foreign to the scope of the work; so in Mr. Redway’s compilation there are several articles, among which we may instance Nos. 323, 330, 435, 437, 556, 595, of which we fail to see the raison d’être.

[* from sight]
[† "There is no book so bad that some good cannot be got out of it," a paraphrase of Pliny the Elder]
[§ i.e., Ashbee's Index Librorum Prohibitorum (1877) and Centuria Librorum Absconditorum (1879); Catena Librorum Tacendorum was not published until 1885, and is not included in the Bibliotheca Arcana]

Tuesday, 27 August 2019

William Hatchett and The Fall of Mortimer

Jina Moon was awarded her Ph.D. at the University of Tulsa in 2015, for her study “Domestic Violence in Victorian and Edwardian Fiction”; she came to my attention a few months ago for an essay she has written on William Hatchett: “‘Was Ever Treason so Unnatural?’: Phallic Mothers and Propaganda in Two Plays by William Hatchett.”

Moon’s essays opens: “William Hatchett’s The Fall of Mortimer was famously suppressed by Sir Robert Walpole’s government in 1731…”—which is a fine opening, except there is no evidence that The Fall of Mortimer was actually written by William Hatchett. The attribution was first made a century after the play was published, without evidence, and not obviously to William Hatchett, as I explained in my Bibliography of Eliza Haywood in 2004 (under De.1, De.4, De.5).

Moon only attempts to support her attribution with a footnote (393n1), not an in-text discussion. Her footnote states that “eighteenth-century historians and theatre scholars identified William Hatchett as its author”—naming Allardyce Nicoll as having made the attribution (actually he only reported the attribution, which seems to have been first made in 1834), Thomas Lockwood as having “acknowledged” it (in 1989) and Jennifer Airey—also of the University of Tulsa—as “confirming” it (2013).

All of these claims are either misleading or false (see below). It is not clear whether Moon misunderstood or intentionally misrepresented her sources, but her failure to identify the source and status of the attribution of The Fall of Mortimer to Hatchett—to either recognise or acknowledge that there is no primary source at all for it—undermines her argument and many (most?) of the claims she makes in her essay. Although many of her claims about Hatchett and the text are somewhat weak anyway, it is a shame that Moon undermined her own work at the outset, since she is certainly right that “critics have evinced almost no interest in Hatchett’s work” (384).

It is both surprising and disappointing (the usual combination) that New Theatre Quarterly’s referees did not pick up this rather fundamental flaw in Moon's argument. When I asked the editors about it they—at first—tried to ignore the question altogether, and then—when pressed—pretended that Moon had not, in fact, mischaracterised her sources at all.

Since there are so few essays on Hatchett, I think it is important to acknowledge that Moon's essay is based on an unsubstantiated claim (or, at least, a poorly substantiated one). But rather than write a formal essay arguing how Moon has mischaracterised her sources, I thought I'd simply transcribe here her footnote and the relevant sections of her sources, with a few brief notes, so the reader can judge for themselves.

Airey, ‘Was Ever Treason so Unnatural?’: 393n1: "In The Politics of Drama in Augustan England, John Loftis argues that the anonymity [of The Fall of Mortimer] was inevitable because it was ‘a dangerous play to acknowledge’ (p. 105). Likewise, its two printed versions in 1731 and 1763 did not have the author’s name. As a result, the authorship of The Fall of Mortimer remained obscure. Nonetheless, despite the anonymity, eighteenth-century historians and theatre scholars identified William Hatchett as its author. For example, in A History of English Drama 1660–1900, Allardyce Nicoll attributes The Fall of Mortimer to Hatchett, introducing a hand-list of plays (p. 371). In ‘William Hatchett, A Rehearsal of Kings (1737), and the Panton Street Puppet Show (1748)’, Thomas Lockwood also acknowledges Hatchett’s authorship of the play (p. 317). In ‘Staging Rape in the Age of Walpole: Sexual Violence and the Politics of Dramatic Adaptation in 1730s Britain’, Jennifer Airey also confirms his authorship of The Fall of Mortimer (p. 101)."

"Nicoll attributes" (nope, he avoids doing this)

Airey's citation is Allardyce Nicoll, A History of English Drama 1660–1900, 3rd edn. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 2.371 (in the "a hand-list of plays"). There were three editions of Nicoll's Early eighteenth century drama: 1925, 1929, 1952, in all editions The Fall of Mortimer does not appear under Hatchett's name (in the 3rd ed. this is on 2.334), but—instead—appears under the heading "Unknown Authors" where Nicoll records that the play had been "Attributed to William Hatchett". If Nicoll accepted this attribution, or thought it was reliable, The Fall of Mortimer would appear under Hatchett's name.

"Lockwood acknowledges the authorship" (not really, he also hedges)

Lockwood, "William Hatchett, A Rehearsal of Kings (1737)": 316–17: "It was apparently Hatchet also who reupholstered the old play of King Edward the Third as The Fall of Mortimer"; 231n6 "As Hume has noted (Henry Fielding and the London Theatre, p.80 n), the attribution to Hatchett goes back only to Lowndes's Bibliographer’s Manual, rev. Henry G. Bohn, 6 vols. (London, 1857-64), 3.1619. See also Lance Bertelsen, "The Significance of the 1731 revisions to The Fall of Mortimer’, Restoration and 18th Century Theatre Research, 2nd Ser., 2 (1987), 17–18. … If Hatchett did write The Fall of Mortimer then he would also have been the author of the pamphlet in its vindication, The History of Mortimer …". Note here "apparently," "only" and "If…then"—this is Lockwood hedging, though both of his sources are less cautious.

Hume, 80n86: "The adaptation was anonymous, Lowndes credits [William] Hatchett, plausibly, but without explanation"—citing the 1857-64 edition of Lowndes's Bibliographer’s Manual. (In fact, the attribution appears first in William Thomas Lowndes, The Bibliographer’s Manual of English Literature (London: William Pickering, 1834), 3.1302: "by — Hatchett.") Hume is admirably clear and concise (plausible, but no evidence), though he does not dwell on the identification of "— Hatchett" as William Hatchett.

Bertelsen, 17: "William Hatchett, the probable reviser of The Fall of Mortimer"; 17–18 "If, as seems likely, Hatchett did indeed transform King Edward the Third…" Note that, while Bertelsen suggests that the attribution is probable, he reminds the reader that would only make Hatchett the reviser of the play (a characterisation consistent with the "Advertisement" in the 3rd ed. of 1731), before attributing to Hatchett Remarks on an Historical Play call'd The Fall of Mortimer.

"Airey confirms his authorship" (no, she really doesn't)

Unfortunately for Moon, Airey’s “Staging Rape in the Age of Walpole” does no such thing; it simply mentions The Fall of Mortimer, in passing, in a list of nine plays, in the form "William Hatchett's The Fall of Mortimer" (96). There is no evidence offered by Airey for the attribution, or any work of reference cited in proximity to this list.

Airey was the only scholar mentioned by Moon who I was unfamiliar with, and so I was anxious to read her essay, which is woeful. I was not remotely surprised to discover that Airey had not "confirmed" the Hatchett attribution, that she had simply repeated the Hatchett attribution without evidence, since I already knew that Nicoll made no such attribution and that Lockwood's "acknowledgement" amounts to nothing when it comes to evidencing an attribution.

Sadly, I found what I expected, that Moon had either misunderstood or lied about Airey in an attempt, it seems, to obscure the fact that there is no primary evidence for this attribution. At all. That Moon does not once mention either Remarks on an Historical Play or The History of Mortimer indicates just how shollow her interest is in attribution questions or—I'd argue—the play itself.

* * * * *

Jina Moon, “‘Was Ever Treason so Unnatural?’: Phallic Mothers and Propaganda in Two Plays by William Hatchett,” which was published in New Theatre Quarterly, 34, No. 4 (November 2018): 383–94.

Jennifer Airey, “Staging Rape in the Age of Walpole: Sexual Violence and the Politics of Dramatic Adaptation in 1730s Britain,” in Interpreting Sexual Violence, 1660–1800, edited by A. Greenfield (London: Pickering and Chatto, 2014), 95–106.