A Foreigner with a Fruit Knife:
Identity and Culture in Eighteenth-Century London
By James P. Mooney IV
A thesis submitted to the Davidson College Department of History in fulfillment of the
requirements of the Kendrick K. Kelley Program in Historical Studies
April 7, 2014, Davidson, North Carolina
To James P. Mooney III
My loving father who introduced me to the joy of history.
Table of Contents
Introduction …………………………………………………………………………………………………………….........1
Chapter I: “Demi-Englishman:” Baretti in London, 1751-1760, 1766-1769…………………..….10
Chapter II: “French Bugger:” Conflicting Narratives of the Haymarket Affair…..……………….31
Chapter III: “Man of Literature:” Defense Strategy at the Old Bailey………….……………………..49
Chapter IV: “Italian Assassin:” The Fall of Baretti..………………………………………………………….70
Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………85
Appendix……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...88
Bibliography…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….......96
“Joseph Baretti” by Sir Joshua Reynolds (1773)
1
Introduction
On the evening of October 6, 1769, Joseph Baretti left a coffee house and began to
walk down London’s Haymarket Boulevard.1 As he approached the corner of Panton Street,
a woman sitting on a doorstep seized his groin. Baretti yelled and tried to escape her grip,
but succeeded only in punching a bystander named Elizabeth Ward. Hearing his foreign
accent, the first woman shouted epithets such as “French bugger” and “woman-hater,”
attracting the attention of three men nearby. The men – Evan Morgan, Thomas Patman, and
John Clark – ran over and demanded to know why Baretti struck a lady. Quickly the
confrontation became physical; Baretti fell backwards into the road and fled up Panton
Street, antagonists close behind. According to Baretti, after sprinting for several blocks, he
drew a knife and dealt Patman a glancing blow, continued running, and then struck
Morgan. Patman claimed that Baretti stabbed him before the pursuit began. Regardless,
while Patman survived, Morgan’s injuries proved fatal. Before long, the authorities took
Baretti into custody and charged him with murder.2
In the Old Bailey courthouse the accused pleaded self-defense. Despite the
prejudicial language he encountered at the Haymarket, Baretti waived his right as a noncitizen to a half-foreign jury, trusting the “English discernment to trace out truth.”3 The
defense attorneys highlighted the xenophobic slurs to demonstrate that their client feared
for his life, and therefore had cause to use lethal force. Baretti reinforced this narrative
when he took the stand, claiming that the men hit and “[damned him] on every side, in a
1
See the Appendix for a map of the Haymarket.
Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 6.0, 26 March 2012), October 1769, trial
of Joseph Baretti (t17691018-9).
3 Ibid.
2
2
most frightful manner.”4 Moreover, the defendant explained that the blade he wielded was
not a weapon, but rather a fruit knife. Baretti carried it while traveling in France because
the French prohibited placing knives on the table, and found the tool “occasionally
convenient” in England; he drew it at the Haymarket as a last resort.5 When the
prosecution’s witnesses contradicted Baretti, the defense responded with testimony from
bystanders who confirmed his story.
The climax of the trial occurred when the defense called an army of esteemed
character witnesses. Scottish author James Boswell described the lineup as “a constellation
of genius,” while the Public Advertiser newspaper deemed the proceedings “remarkable”
because “some of the most eminent Gentlemen of Literature in [the] Kingdom appeared on
[Baretti’s] Behalf.”6 Indeed, the literary giant Samuel Johnson, the actor and playwright
David Garrick, the renowned painter Sir Joshua Reynolds, the statesman Edmund Burke,
and several others characterized the defendant as a peaceful man, one who would never
resort to bloodshed unless his life depended on it. Before the defense could call the rest of
the gentlemen willing to speak for Baretti, the jury ruled in his favor.7
Though his assailants assumed he was French, Baretti was actually an Italian, and
his real name was Giuseppe. Born in Turin in 1719, Baretti was a literary scholar who
worked in several Italian cities before travelling to England in 1751.8 Economic necessity
4
October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti..
Ibid.
6 Lacy Collison-Morley, Giuseppe Baretti, with an account of his literary friendships and feuds in Italy and in
England in the days of Dr. Johnson, (London: Hazell, Watson and Viney, LD., 1909), 214; Public
Advertiser (London, England), "Classified Ads," November 1, 1769, accessed 2 April 2012,
http://find.galegroup.com/
7 October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti.
8 Desmond O’Connor, “Baretti, Giuseppe Marc’Antonio,” in H.C. G. Matthew and Brian Harrison, eds., Oxford
Dictionary of National Biography, Vol. 3, (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2004), 799.
5
3
inspired his voyage. Italy’s small literary market made it difficult to live off the pen, and in
1750 Baretti tarnished his reputation by publishing a harsh critique of a royally appointed
archeologist.9 Realizing his bleak employment prospects, Baretti left his native country,
adopting the name “Joseph” for convenience while in England. Novelist Charlotte Lennox
helped Baretti with English in exchange for Italian lessons and introduced him to Johnson,
through whom he met other members of the British intelligentsia.10 Baretti’s gruff
demeanor repelled some of his new acquaintances, but his Italian expertise earned him a
place in London literary circles in the 1750s. In the 1760s Baretti attempted to resume his
writing career in Italy, but ran afoul of Italian censors, causing him make London his
permanent residence in 1766.11 By 1769 Baretti was a well-known intellectual, the author
of a popular account of Italian culture, and the Secretary for Foreign Correspondence at the
Royal Academy of Arts. Though he never became a British citizen, Baretti’s position in
London made him, as he put it, a “demi-Englishman.”12 On the night of the Haymarket
incident, the scholar was on his way to the Royal Academicians Club in Soho, where his
colleagues expected him.13
Baretti was well known during his lifetime, but scholars did not take much interest
in him until the twentieth century.14 Lacy Collison-Morley’s 1909 biography of Baretti is the
9
Collison-Morley, 53-56.
“Giuseppe Baretti (1719-1789), Writer and friend of Dr. Johnson,” National Portrait Gallery, accessed 6
August 2012, http://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/person/mp00247/giuseppe-baretti
11 O’Connor, 800.
12 Collison-Morley, 369.
13 “Baretti, Giuseppe Marco Antonio, 1719-1789. Letters: Guide.” Harvard University Library, March 28,
2012, Historical Note, accessed April 2, 2012,
http://oasis.lib.harvard.edu//oasis/deliver/deepLink?_collection=oasis&uniqueId=hou01743.
14 See (in chronological order): Collison-Morley, Giuseppe Baretti, with an account of his literary friendships
and feuds in Italy and in England in the days of Dr. Johnson; Luigi Piccioni, Bibliografia analitica di Giuseppe
Baretti. Con un'appendice di cronologia biografica barettiana, (Turin, Italy: Societa Subalpina, 1942); Donald
C. Gallup, “Baretti’s Reputation in England,” in Frederick W. Hilles, ed., The Age of Johnson: Essays Presented to
10
4
only work of its kind in English, though Norbert Jonard and Luigi Piccioni published similar
texts in French and Italian respectively. These works, along with several books and essays,
describe Baretti’s activities in England, his relationship with the British literati, and his
murder trial, but few situate these experiences in the cultural context of eighteenth-century
London.
Matthew Rusnak’s 2008 Italian literature dissertation is the most critical discussion
of Baretti and his trial to date.15 Rusnak examines Baretti’s behavior during the Haymarket
brawl, the defense’s legal strategy, the trial’s impact on Baretti’s reputation, and how the
case fit within contemporary debates about homicide law. Above all, Rusnak tries to
understand Baretti psychologically. Drawing on correspondence, trial records, literary
works, and newspapers, he argues that Baretti was a temperamental man with “an
ambiguous self image,” a scholar who exported Italian culture to Britain but also concealed
his heritage when expedient.16 Baretti’s insecurities may have triggered a violent response
to being called a “French bugger,” Rusnak contends, and although the defense made Baretti
appear sympathetic to the jury, the case haunted him for the rest of his career.17 The
dissertation concludes that Baretti may have had Antisocial Personality Disorder, and that
Chauncey Brewster Tinker, (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1949); C. J. M. Lubbers-van der
Brugge, Johnson and Baretti: Some Aspects of Eighteenth-Century Literary Life in England and Italy, (Groningen,
Netherlands: J.B. Wolters, 1951); Norbert Jonard, Giuseppe Baretti (1719-1789): L’homme et l’oeuvre, (G. de
Bussac, 1963); James L. Clifford, “Johnson and Foreign Visitors to London: Baretti and Others,” in P. Gray, ed.,
Eighteenth Century Studies Presented to Arthur M. Wilson, (University Press of New England, 1972); Frank
McLynn, Crime and Punishment in Eighteenth-century England, (New York: Routledge, 1989),39-40; O’Connor,
op. cit.
15 Matthew Francis Rusnak, “The Trial of Giuseppe Baretti, October 20th 1769: A Literary and Cultural
History of the Baretti Case,” Rutgers: The State University of New Jersey - New Brunswick, ProQuest, UMI
Dissertations Publishing, 2008. 3335552.
16 Ibid, 19-20.
17 For Rusnak’s discussion of the fight at the Haymarket, see his first chapter. He examines the defense
strategy in chapter two, and the impact of the case on Baretti’s reputation in chapter six.
5
the criticism he received in later years was probably “a just punishment for the
shortcomings of his tortured life.”18
My thesis uses the Baretti case as a window into individual and collective identities
in eighteenth-century London. The argument overlaps with Rusnak’s in terms of certain
primary sources and observations, but whereas Rusnak investigates “why Baretti was the
way he was,” this essay discusses understandings of foreignness, gender, sexuality, and
class in Europe’s most diverse metropolis.19 Like the microhistories by Carlo Ginzburg and
Edward Berenson, the project examines a trial and the life of the defendant to illuminate
elements of culture that broader studies cannot address.20 The Baretti case is ripe for such
inquiry, for it brings together representatives from across society, including artists and
intellectuals, working-class folk and wealthy patrons, judges and jurymen, men and
women, press commentators, and people of different nationalities. The case unfolded in
several spaces, from the London street to the Old Bailey courthouse. Finally, Baretti is a
useful protagonist because of his transnational character; he straddled national boundaries
as an English-speaking scholar of Italian language, customs, and literature, using crosscultural knowledge to penetrate Britain’s intelligentsia. Through the Baretti case, historians
can appreciate how a variety of Londoners conceptualized each other and themselves.
On Haymarket Street, Baretti’s antagonists characterized him as a menacing
foreigner who assaulted an Englishwoman. By calling Baretti a “French-bugger,” the
18
Rusnak, 355-356.
Ibid, 13. For instance, like Rusnak’s dissertation, this thesis draws upon Baretti’s private letters, his
published works, the transcript of his trial, and newspaper coverage of the case, but it uses these sources to a
different end. In addition, the project engages sources that Rusnak does not, such as three “Strictures” Baretti
published in The European Magazine the year before he died (see Chapter Four).
20 Edward Berenson, The Trial of Madame Caillaux, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992), 8;
Carlo Ginzburg, The Cheese and the Worms: The Cosmos of a Sixteenth-Century Miller, (Baltimore: Johns
Hopkins University Press, 1980).
19
6
woman who groped him reified the widespread British tendency to conflate foreignness
with France and sexual deviance, a byproduct of Britain’s age-old rivalry with the French
Empire. Just six years prior to the Baretti case, in 1763, the British won the Seven Years
War, routing France and establishing hegemony in North America, Southeast Asia, and the
oceans in between. Fueled by newfound prestige, nationalism surged. But the jubilation
was short lived. The nation had engaged in almost perpetual warfare with France since the
beginning of the century, and many citizens feared French reprisals. Prints and tracts
before, during, and after the Seven Years War characterized France as an enemy that
threatened not only to invade Britain and her colonies, but also to pollute her culture with
effeminacy, licentiousness, and Catholicism. Propaganda images created scenes similar
symbolically to the Baretti case, in which foppish, sexualized Frenchmen and other
foreigners threatened females representing the British Empire.
Scholars document widespread xenophobia during Baretti’s time. According to
Gerald Newman, francophobia was “one of the foundation stones of the [English] national
mind,” transcending demographic differences. 21 In his view, even the most cosmopolitan
individuals understood the opposition between English and French interests, particularly
after the outbreak of the Seven Years War. 22 Linda Colley builds upon Newman’s analysis of
English xenophobia to discuss the birth of British identity, highlighting religion’s role in the
proliferation of gallophobia across the British Isles. According to Colley, English, Welsh, and
Scottish Protestants united against the specter of French Catholicism, crystalizing the
21 Gerald Newman, The Rise of English Nationalism: A Cultural History, 1740-1830, (New York: St. Martin’s
Press, 1987), 75.
22 Ibid, 39; 75.
7
British nation in the process. 23 Britons used stereotypes to mitigate their anxiety about
France’s military and economic power, defining themselves against a menacing Gallic
Other.24
Both Newman and Colley argue that xenophobia was particularly prevalent among
the British lower classes.25 Affluent Britons, though cognizant of imperial rivalries, were
generally less prejudiced because they had greater access to other cultures and appreciated
foreign fashion; poorer folk found comfort in comparing themselves, citizens of a “free”
constitutional monarchy, to Frenchmen chaffing under absolutism.26 The Baretti case
reflected this class dichotomy in an important respect. The incident pitted a scholar and his
wealthy, educated allies against the three lower-class men who fought him in the street (a
wigmaker, a singer, and a lapidary respectively). In the courtroom and the press, Baretti’s
sympathizers portrayed him as the victim of unwashed, xenophobic ruffians. Haymarket
Street had a reputation for violent crime and prostitution, which allowed the defense to
claim that the woman who groped Baretti was a streetwalker, and that Patman, Clark, and
Morgan were her pimps. By juxtaposing Baretti’s status with deviant descriptions of his
assailants, the defense lawyers and witnesses secured the scholar’s acquittal.
Whereas Colley and Newman examine how British classes viewed French people in
the abstract, this thesis reveals how a single, unusual foreigner engaged Britons on the
micro level. Baretti highlighted elements of his Italian background to advance socially. His
expertise in Italian language and literature was marketable because British artists,
intellectuals, and aristocrats were captivated by Italy’s culture. Italian opera dominated
23
Linda Colley, Britons: Forging the Nation, 1707-1837, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), 5-6.
Ibid, 34-35.
25 Colley, 368; Newman, 37.
26 Newman, 37-39; Colley, 368.
24
8
London performance halls, and scores of nobles travelled to Italy as part of “The Grand
Tour,” a continental journey for the purpose of education, pleasure, and personal
fulfillment. Britons sought to immerse themselves in antiquity in Rome and the
Renaissance in Florence, while Venice offered opportunities for art collecting and freedom
from Protestant restraints on sex.27 Baretti capitalized on British fascination with his native
country, devoting the bulk of his English literary career to introducing Britons to Italy. His
writings earned him income, intellectual credibility, and the respect of the British literati.
Despite his successes, Baretti had difficulty avoiding the accusation of being a
hotheaded, stiletto-wielding Italian. In the context of the Haymarket brawl, the scholar’s
infamous temper threatened to reflect Grand Tourists’ accounts of assassins plaguing
Italian cities.28 During his trial, the defense went to great lengths to distance Baretti from
this stereotype; each character witness juxtaposed his “peaceable” nature with violent
descriptions of Morgan, Patman, and Clark. Baretti’s allies invoked the trope of the weak,
effeminate foreigner to suggest that the scholar was too “timorous” to be a murderer.29
Appropriating one stereotype to preempt another, the defense secured his freedom.
However, in the years after the acquittal, Baretti’s tempestuous behavior estranged him
from the literati, and his critics took the opportunity to brand him as an ‘angry Italian.’
The following discussion develops in four chapters. The first examines how Baretti
leveraged his background to establish himself in the London intelligentsia, illuminating the
nuances of his position as a “demi-Englishman.” Chapter Two investigates the nexus of
xenophobia, class, gender, and sexuality in the Haymarket Affair, as revealed by the
27
Andrew Wilton and Ilaria Bignamini, Grand Tour: The Lure of Italy in the Eighteenth Century, (London:
Tate Gallery Publishing Ltd, 1996), 22-24.
28 Rusnak, 212-213.
29 October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti.
9
language of Baretti’s assailants and the pre-trial press coverage. Chapter Three unpacks the
defense’s trial strategy and the media’s reaction to the acquittal. Finally, Chapter Four
discusses Baretti’s life after the trial, analyzing the remarkable collapse of his private
relationships and public image. By using the case to examine understandings of identity,
this project adds another dimension to Baretti historiography, while also illuminating
eighteenth-century London culture during an era of upheaval.
10
Chapter I
“Demi-Englishman:” Baretti in London, 1751-1760, 1766-1769
Baretti came to London during a period of significant population growth and
immigration. The capital, which had grown steadily early in the century before slowing in
the 1730s and 40s, exploded after 1750.30 A population of roughly 490,000 in 1700 had
swelled to 740,000 in 1760, surpassing one million by the census of 1801.31 Disease and
infant mortality declined, fertility and living conditions improved, and, most importantly, a
surge of migrants replaced the multitude who died or left the city in search of employment
or retirement.32 Family ties and London’s coastal shipping industry attracted citizens from
other parts of the British Isles, while the end of the Seven Years War brought a variety of
people from around the world. Irish, French Huguenots, and continental Jews arrived in
significant numbers, along with Lascars from India and former North American colonists. 33
As visiting North Carolina Governor George Burrington observed in 1757, “Foreigners from
all Protestant Countries, and too many Papists, come to London continually . . . it is very
probable that two Thirds of the grown Persons at any Time in London came from Distant
Parts.”34 Dr. Bland of the Westminster General Dispensary attempted to determine the
30 Clive Emsley, Tim Hitchcock and Robert Shoemaker, "London History - A Population History of
London," Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 January 2014).
31 Ibid; A.L. Beier and Roger Finlay, eds., London 1500-1700: The Making of the Metropolis, (New York:
Longman Group Limited, 1986), 39.
32 E.A. Wrigley and R.S. Schofield, The Population History of England: 1541-1871: A Reconstruction, (New
York: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 166; Emsley et al., "London History - A Population History of
London;" M. Dorothy George, London Life in the Eighteenth Century, (London: Kegan, Paul, Trench, Trubner &
Co. LTD, 1925), 109.
33 Emsley et al., "London History - London, 1760-1815," Old Bailey Proceedings Online
(www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 January 2014).
34 George Burrington, “An answer to Dr William Brakenridge's Letter concerning the number of
inhabitants, within the London bills of mortality. Wherein the Doctor's Letter is inserted at large, his
Arguments proved inconclusive, and the Number of Inhabitants increasing. By George Burrington, Esq;
Heretofore Governor of North-Carolina. London, MDCCLVII. [1757].” Eighteenth Century Collections
11
precise proportion between native Londoners and migrants. He reported that between
1774 and 1781, among 3,236 married people:
824, or one-fourth, were born in London. 1870, or four sevenths, were born in the
different counties of England and Wales. 209 or one in fifteen, were born in
Scotland. 280, or one in eleven, were born in Ireland. 53, or one in sixty, were
foreigners [born outside of the British Isles.] 35
Bland’s data and Burrington’s testimony suggest there was a significant non-English
presence in eighteenth-century London. Indeed, according to British historians Tim
Hitchcock, Clive Emsley, and Robert Shoemaker, the metropolis had a more diverse
population than any other European city since the Roman Empire. 36
Limited resources and British prejudice restricted many migrants to subordinate
socioeconomic roles, and few moved amongst the British elite like Baretti. Irish
immigrants, for instance, were predominantly unskilled laborers living in segregated,
temporary work colonies.37 Anti-Catholic and ethnic discrimination excluded most Irish
from the higher echelons of the London economy, and poor Irish competed with the English
lower class for low-wage jobs.38 Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe faced similar
obstacles. Most arrived in London poor, which led many of them to seek employment as
second-hand street vendors, an occupation that gave rise to numerous anti-Semitic
caricatures.39 Unable to hide their ethnicity and religion, the Jews were shut out from
Christian-dominated industrial occupations and assimilated into London society at a slow
Online. Gale. Davidson College Library. 20 Jan. 2014, quoted in George, 111.
35 Dr. Bland [no first name appears], Reports of the Westminster General Dispensary, “Philosophical
Transactions,” 1781, 355 ff., quoted in George, 111.
36 Emsley et al., "London History - A Population History of London."
37 George, 113-115.
38 Ibid; 117-118; Emsley, Hitchcock and Shoemaker, "Communities - Irish London," Old Bailey Proceedings
Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 January 2014).
39 Emsley et al., "Communities – Jewish Communities," Old Bailey Proceedings Online
(www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 January 2014).
12
pace; even wealthy Jewish merchants and financiers did not enter English elite circles until
the end of the eighteenth century.40
French Protestant immigrants lived in concentrated areas and faced similar
prejudice, but they tended to fare better than the Irish and the Jews economically. French
settlements in Spitalfields in the East End were centers for textile production, namely silk
weaving, while those in Soho and Fitzrovia in the West End were known for blacksmithing,
watch making, and finance.41 Although the Spitalfields Anglicized gradually as the century
progressed, the West End remained a mecca of French language and culture.42 In the words
of contemporary historian and topographer William Maitland, in the mid-eighteenth
century, “Many parts of [Soho] so greatly abound with French that it is an easy matter for a
stranger to imagine himself in France.”43
Compared to the aforementioned groups, Italians made up a very small minority in
London. Large-scale migration from Italy to Britain did not begin until the nineteenth
century, but in the eighteenth century the capital was home to a smattering of Italian
artisans, craftsmen, architects, and painters, such as Antonio Canaletto and Giovanni
40
George, 126; Todd M. Endelman, The Jews of Georgian England, 1714-1830: Tradition and Change in a
Liberal Society, (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1999), 251.
Note: A minority of London Jews, the Sephardim, fared significantly better than their Eastern European
peers. Coming primarily from the Iberian Peninsula, Sephardic Jews avoided British anti-Semitism by
concealing their Jewish identity or converting to the Church of England. Many intermarried with British
Christians and became wealthy members of elite institutions, such as universities, Inns of Court, and even
Parliament. See Emsley et al., "Communities – Jewish Communities."
41 Emsley et al., "Communities - Huguenot and French London," Old Bailey Proceedings Online
(www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 January 2014).
42 George, 133; Judith Summers, Soho: A History of London’s Most Colorful Neighborhood, (London:
Bloomsbury Publishing Ltd, 1991), 159-160.
43 Quoted in Emsley et al., "Communities - Huguenot and French London," Old Bailey Proceedings Online
(www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 January 2014).
13
Cipriani.44 In addition, Italian composers and performers came to satiate the English
appetite for opera.45 After its first performance in Britain in 1705, Italian opera quickly
became a dominant form of entertainment, enchanting Londoners with its novelty,
spectacle, and cultural exclusivity.46 Demand for opera was such that Italians were the
majority of all musicians who came to London in the latter half of the eighteenth century. 47
King’s Theatre in the Haymarket was the chief employer of vocalists, hiring fifteen to
twenty singers per season, followed by London’s numerous concert halls. 48
Instrumentalists sought jobs in orchestras, and composers made a living by selling copies
of their scores. Many Italian artists and performers came to the city hoping their talents
would earn them riches, but, according to Baretti and other observers, a good number
returned to Italy disappointed by their compensation, in part due to London’s high cost of
living.49 As Baretti put it in 1768, “I have seen for ten years the operas in the Haymarket
carried on to the great satisfaction of the English musical ladies; but I have likewise seen
almost all the chief Italian performers there return home very poor, or with very small
savings in their pockets.” 50 When money proved insufficient to attract enough performers
44
Terri Colpi, The Italian Factor: The Italian Community of Great Britain, (Edinburgh, Scotland:
Mainstream Publishing, 1991), 26-27; Lucio Sponza, Italian Immigrants in Nineteenth-Century Britain:
Realities and Images, (Leicester University Press, 1988), 1-2.
45 Colpi, 27.
46 John Brewer, The Pleasures of the Imagination: English Culture in the Eighteenth Century, (London:
HarperCollins Publishers, 1997), 363-365.
47 Frederick C. Petty, Italian Opera in London, 1760-1800, (Ann Arbor, MI: University Microfilms
International Research Press, 1972), 16.
48 Ibid 11.
49 Ibid, 9-11.
50 Giuseppe Baretti, An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy; With Observations on the Mistakes of
Some Travellers, with Regard to that Country, Vol. 1, (London: Printed for T. Davies; L. Davis, and C. Rymers
[sic], 1768), 148-149. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Davidson College Library. 9 Feb. 2014,
quoted in Petty, 10.
14
to King’s Theatre, the manager had to travel to Italy during the summer to recruit for the
upcoming season.51
Most Italians in London did not attempt to blend into their host society. They came
to Britain specifically to sell an Italian talent, be it painting, singing, or architectural design.
Italians offered British consumers not only robust knowledge of their trades, but also an
ostensible connection to the Renaissance and antiquity, prime cultural capital in the age of
the Grand Tour.52 Thus, the Italians had significant incentive to highlight their foreign
backgrounds rather than assimilate. Those in the opera were in London only for the opera
season, which gave them even less motivation to become versed in the English language
and customs. Hence, many Italian performers kept to themselves, congregating at the
Orange Coffee House in the Haymarket theatre district.53
Baretti distinguished himself from other Italians in London by cultivating a
transnational persona. From the early 1750s until the Haymarket Affair of 1769, Baretti
learned to blend into British circles while also distinguishing himself as an Italian scholar
with foreign expertise. Though he came to London with little money, uncertain job
prospects, and only a beginner’s understanding of English, Baretti’s literary education and
linguistic skills enabled him to adapt quickly. As he put it,
For the first two months I could not understand a single syllable; but when I had
succeeded in fixing in my head a few hundred words by continually working at
nouns, verbs, and other parts of speech, I made every one I came across read me out
these words not once only, but ten times and more, and tried all the while to
51
Baretti, An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italiy, Vol. 1, 11.
Shearer West, “Introduction: Visual Culture, Performance Culture, and the Italian Diaspora in the Long
Eighteenth Century” in Shearer West, ed., Italian Culture in Northern Europe in the Eighteenth Century,
(Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 5.
53 “The Haymarket, West Side,” F.H. W. Sheppard, ed., Survey of London: volumes 29 and 30: St James
Westminster, Part 1. (1960), 210-214. http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=40568
Accessed: 09 February 2014.
52
15
pronounce the most difficult; and thus, by gradually accustoming my ears to the
sound, I made what was considered extraordinary progress . . . .54
Since he studied English in Italy, Baretti must have known more than a “single syllable”
upon arrival in London, though he did apply himself rigorously to become fluent. 55 Baretti
believed learning different Italian dialects during his early travels honed his gift for foreign
languages; he knew Milanese, Venetian, and his native Piedmontese before coming to
England, having also studied Tuscan and French.56 The scholar found English to be a
“strange and most irregular tongue,” but he improved by studying “day and night” and
speaking to as many English people as possible. 57
At first Baretti kept close ties to London’s Italian community. He lived with Felice
Giardini, a violinist from Turin who found a job for him at the Italian opera, where he
worked for two years.58 Baretti earned a living using his native language while he worked
on mastering English, and he socialized with his countrymen at the Orange Coffee House.59
During this period (around 1752), Baretti made perhaps the most important acquaintance
of his career: the novelist, poet, and dramatist Charlotte Lennox. Without her, he may not
have met Johnson, Reynolds, Garrick, or any of the other luminaries whose company
defined his life in England.
The youngest daughter of a Royal Navy captain, Charlotte Lennox acquired a literary
reputation with the publication of her first novel, The Life of Harriot Stuart, in 1750.60 The
54
Quoted in Collison-Morley, 62-63.
O’Connor, 799.
56 Catharina Johanna Maria Lubbers-van der Brugge, Johnson and Baretti: Some Aspects of EighteenthCentury Literary Life in England and Italy, (J.B. Wolters – Groningen, Djakarta, 1951), 16.
57 Collison-Morley, 62-63; Gallup, 367.
58 Ibid; Rusnak, 19.
59 O’Connor, 799.
60 Hugh Amory, “Lennox, Charlotte,” in Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Vol. 33, 371-372.
55
16
work impressed Johnson, who threw an all-night party at a tavern to celebrate the
occasion. After presenting Lennox with a “magnificent hot apple-pie” adorned with bay
leaves, Johnson crowned her with laurels out of recognition for her literary achievement. 61
Later, Johnson compared Lennox to Hannah More, Frances Burney, and Elizabeth Carter,
the other female authors he knew, declaring, “Three such women are not to be found. I
know not where I could find a fourth, except Mrs. Lennox, who is superior to them all.” 62
Lennox went on to publish works such as Henrietta (1758), The Sister (1762) and The
Female Quixote (1752), her most celebrated composition. She became an established
member of London literary society and one of the most influential British authors of the
eighteenth century, making her well-suited for the task of introducing Baretti to the
intelligentsia.63
Baretti met Lennox by chance. One day at the Orange Coffee House, Lennox’s
husband arrived and asked if anyone would be willing to tutor his wife in Italian in
exchange for English lessons.64 Baretti volunteered immediately. With the help of his
instruction, Lennox translated several Italian novels that Shakespeare drew upon in his
Italian plays, producing Shakespeare Illustrated; or the Novels and Histories, on which the
plays of Shakespeare are founded, Collected and Translated (1753-1754). In gratitude,
Lennox introduced Baretti to Johnson in 1753 or late 1752.65
By the time he met Johnson, Baretti was proficient enough in English that the two
men could converse. It was not long before they realized that they had a great deal in
61
Ibid; Collison-Morley, 81.
Quoted in Amory, 372.
63 Ibid, 372-373.
64 Lubbers-van der Brugge, 26; Collison-Morley, 80.
65 Lubbers-van der Brugge, 26; Collison-Morley, 80.
62
17
common. Both were scholars of literature concerned with translation and dictionary
writing, each thrived in debate, and they shared a tendency to be “overbearing” and
“rough” in conversation.66 Baretti also offered Johnson his knowledge of Italian and French
literature, which he had studied extensively before coming to London.67 Johnson shared the
widespread English belief that the Mediterranean was birthplace of world culture, and took
great interest in his new acquaintance’s expertise.68 Through Johnson, Baretti met
Reynolds, Garrick, the author Hester Thrale, and a variety of other London luminaries. 69
Baretti was not the only foreign scholar who met Johnson, but he came to know him
more intimately than others due to the length of his stay in London. Most continental
intellectuals visited the British capital for only a few months.70 According to Johnson
historian James Clifford, Johnson encountered many foreign visitors, including Italians,
though he tended to mention them in his letters only if he introduced them to his friends in
the literati. For instance, in 1757 Johnson acquainted a poet named “Dr. Marsili of Padua”
with the Vice Chancellor of Oxford, and in 1760 he wrote a note to a Lincoln College scholar
which said, “The Gentleman who brings this is [a] very learned and celebrated
Mathematician of Italy.”71 Johnson also conversed with Venetian author Giacomo Casanova,
Serbo-Croatian astronomer Roger Joseph Boscovich, and Helfrich Peter Sturz from
66
Collison-Morley, 83-84.
Lubbers-van der Brugge, 31; O’Connor, 799.
68 According to Boswell, Johnson said, “A man who has not been in Italy, is always conscious of an
inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see. The grand object of traveling is to
see the shores of the Mediterranean. On those shores were the four great Empires of the world; the Assyrian,
the Persian, the Grecian and the Roman. All our religion, almost all our laws, almost all our arts, almost all that
sets us above savages, has come to us from the shores of the Mediterranean.” Quoted in Lubbers-van der
Brugge, 31, note 1.
69 Collison-Morley, 103; 106.
70 Clifford, 109.
71 Ibid.
67
18
Germany, but he did not stay in contact with any of them.72 In contrast, Baretti and Johnson
knew each other for decades, making it the longest cross-cultural relationship either ever
had.
Socializing with British intellectuals increased Baretti’s stature and enabled him to
achieve a high level of fluency in spoken and written English. He produced his first English
works, Dissertation upon the Italian Poetry and Remarks on the Italian Language and
Writers, in 1753, and went on to write An Introduction to the Italian Language (1755), The
Italian Library (1757), and The Dictionary of the English and Italian Languages (1760), an
updated version of Ferdinando Altieri’s volume that included “above ten thousand new
words or significations of words.”73 Baretti’s dictionary was a standard reference tool for
over 150 years, and it was reprinted as recently as 1928.74 The scholar published these
writings with the help of Johnson and his prominent associates, earning a handsome profit
and a reputation for his linguistic skills.75 Edmond Malone, an Irish intellectual and friend
of Johnson, wrote in his diary that Baretti “was a man of extraordinary talents, and perhaps
no one ever made himself so completely master of a foreign language as he did of
English.”76 Hester Thrale concurred in a diary entry from June 1783, offering a detailed
account of Baretti’s ability to blend in with Englishmen:
Baretti could not endure to be called or scarcely thought, a foreigner, and indeed it
did not often occur to his company that he was one; for his accent was wonderfully
proper, and his language always copious, always nervous, always full of various
allusions, flowing too with a rapidity worthy of admiration, and far beyond the
power of nineteen in twenty natives. He had also a knowledge of the solemn
72
Clifford, 110-113.
Baretti quoted in Collison-Morley, 106-107.
74 O’Connor, 800; Collison-Morley, 106.
75 Clifford, 107.
76 Quoted in Gallup, 368.
73
19
language and the gay, could be sublime with Johnson, or blackguard with the groom;
could dispute, could rally, could quibble, in our language.77
It is notable that Baretti tried to conceal his foreignness in conversation, apparently priding
himself on being a cultural chameleon. According to Thrale, in 1775, while travelling with
her family and Johnson in France, Baretti used his French language skills to “court the
maids” and “abuse the men . . . with a felicity not to be exceeded, as they all confessed, by
any of the natives.”78 Combined with his charm and wit, this adaptability made Baretti a
popular member of Johnson’s circle during 1750s.79
After the release of his Italian-English dictionary in 1760, Baretti tried
unsuccessfully to resume his writing career in Italy. Though he cared for the people he met
in England, Baretti had always imagined his stay in London would be temporary, believing
his English literary achievements would earn him acceptance at home and mitigate his
previous indiscretions.80 But just like in 1750, the scholar quickly ran quickly into trouble.
Milanese and Venetian censors barred him from criticizing the Portuguese lower classes as
rude and inhospitable in his European travel account, Lettere familiari ai suoi tre fratelli
(Familiar Letters to His Three Brothers), forcing him to publish an edited version of the
text in 1763.81 In 1765, Venetian authorities suppressed Baretti’s La Frusta Letteraria (The
Literary Scourge), an iconoclastic journal that attacked Italian luminaries such as Pietro
77
Hester Lynch Piozzi (formerly Thrale – remarried in 1784), in Abraham Hayward, ed., Autobiography,
letters and literary remains of Mrs. Piozzi (Thrale), Vol. 2., London: Longman, Green, Longman and Roberts,
1861), 347, quoted in Gallup, 368.
78 Quoted in James Boswell, Boswell’s Life of Johnson, Vol. I, ed., George Birkbeck Hill, (Oxford, UK: Oxford
University Press, 1934), 362 note 1. See original source: Piozzi (Thrale), Vol. 2, 347.
79 Ibid, 369.
80 Collison-Morley, 110.
81 Ibid, 133; O’Connor, 800.
20
Bembo, Carlo Goldoni, and Pietro Verri.82 Thus, twice thwarted and fearful of further
reprisals from the Venetians, in 1765 Baretti decided to return to England as a permanent
resident.83 He fumed in a letter to a friend, “An enemy in Italy can do you endless harm,
while your friends are of little help. I am eager to return to a country where the opposite is
the case, nor do I mean to show myself again in these lands, so absurdly called Christian.”84
In London, at least, Baretti knew he had powerful allies and more freedom to write without
fear of censors.
Upon arrival in London in 1766, Baretti returned to his English scholarship. He had
stayed in contact with Johnson while in Italy, and the latter welcomed him back.85 By then
Johnson and Joshua Reynolds had established the illustrious Literary Club, and they
introduced Baretti to other founding members Oliver Goldsmith and Edmund Burke. 86 In
1768, Baretti wrote An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy, a work that introduced
English readers to Italy and defended it against ‘superficial’ characterizations from Samuel
Sharp’s Grand Tour narrative, Letters from Italy (1766).87 In particular, Baretti criticized
Sharp for having a poor grasp of the Italian language, for judging Italian nobles based on
“hearsay” rather than direct observation, and generally for commenting on a country that
he could not understand after only a brief stay. 88 Baretti departed from the Frusta
Literaria’s critical attitude toward Italian literature and culture and became Italy’s foremost
82
O’Connor, 800.
Collison-Morley, 171.
84 Quoted in Ibid.
85 Lubbers-van der Brugge, 41; O’Connor 800.
86 O’Connor, 800.
87 Ibid. Samuel Sharp was a famous surgeon at Guy’s Hospital in London and a friend of David Garrick.
88 Baretti, An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy, Vol. 1, vii; 4; 8; 10.
83
21
defender in England, an opportunistic shift that appealed to London Italophiles. 89 The
Account was such a success that he published a second edition in 1769.90 In recognition of
Baretti’s achievements, the Royal Society of Antiquaries elected him as a member, and King
George III appointed him the Secretary for Foreign Correspondence at the newly
established Royal Academy of Arts. The secretary position lacked a salary or any specific
duties, but it offered Baretti prestige as a foreign scholar.91 By the time of his encounter at
the Haymarket, Baretti’s reputation in London had reached a new height, a triumph that
must have been all the more satisfying given his recent ordeal in Italy. 92
The evidence presented thus far illustrates Baretti’s remarkable rise into Britain’s
most prestigious intellectual circles. Like many of the migrants discussed earlier in this
chapter, Baretti arrived in London with few resources, but his talent for language
acquisition, a serendipitous meeting with Charlotte Lennox, and his education enabled him
to rise quickly in London society and become a prominent intellectual. Baretti boasted of
his success, “The King himself has read my book [An Account of the Manners and Customs of
Italy] and said he liked it, and there is no one of literary note in this city who is not anxious
to make my acquaintance.” 93 Though Baretti was often in debt, the generosity of his
wealthier friends, and, occasionally his brothers in Italy, sustained him financially.94 In
89
O’Connor, 800.
Ibid, 800-801; Collison-Morley, 185-187.
91 Rusnak, 32.
92 Gallup, 372.
93 Letter to Filippo Baretti, March 26, 1768, quoted and translated in Collison-Morley, 188.
94 Collison-Morley, 118; 184-185; 303. Giuseppe Baretti, “Letter to David Garrick, March 15th, 1768,” in
Luigi Piccioni, ed., Giuseppe Baretti Epistolario: A Cura di Luigi Piccioni. Vol. 1, (Bari, Italy: Gius. Laterza & Figli,
1936), 368.
During his European travels in the 1760s, Baretti reflected on English financial generosity. He wrote,
“The truth is that the English do their utmost to make money; but once they have made it, they spend it freely,
and will give it [to] you, if you ask them for it . . . When they are convinced that you are an honest man,
90
22
essence, Baretti transcended the cultural and economic challenges facing London
immigrants in the eighteenth century. He had become, as he liked to put it, “a demiEnglishman.”95
For Baretti, being a demi-Englishman meant having the ability to write and converse
in English while making full use of his expertise in Italian language and literature. The
latter made him interesting to the literati and to his wider readership, while the former
enabled him to straddle the Anglo-Italian cultural divide and introduce Britons to his native
country. Even after clashing with Italian censors, Baretti took pride in defending Italy
against British criticism, and in so doing he defined his position in London society. The
message appears most explicitly in An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy.
Baretti began the work by reflecting on the limited perspective of a visitor in a
foreign land. According to Baretti, “travelers, though inclined to be candid, are but seldom
well informed; and, of course, [are] liable to many mistakes” when describing other
cultures, for they tend to draw conclusions based on “short tours” in the country in
question.96 Travel literature perpetuates these superficial attitudes, he argued, since travel
writers were “apt to turn the thoughts of those young people who go abroad, upon
frivolous and unprofitable objects, and to habituate them to premature and rash
judgments, upon everything they see.” 97 Finally, Baretti contended that foreigners are
inherently ill-equipped to understand a culture that is not their own. He went so far as to
whether you are a foreigner or one of themselves, they make a point of supporting you and advancing you.”
Quoted and translated in Collison-Morley, 118.
95 Collison-Morley, 359.
96 Baretti, An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy, Vol. 1, vii; ix-x.
97 Ibid, viii.
23
disqualify himself from writing an account of England, despite his lengthy stay there. As he
put it:
I, who have resided many years [in England;] who am tolerably skilled in its
language, and have kept a great variety of English company, would find myself much
embarrassed, was I to give an account of the manners of any class of people in this
kingdom. I know that such a task is very difficult to a foreigner; and that, even after a
long study of any people, we are liable to mistakes. I should, therefore, feel the
greatest diffidence, and think myself obliged to speak with the greatest caution, if
ever I could prevail upon myself to make such an attempt, especially where I found
myself disposed to condemn any general or reigning custom, to censure a whole sex,
a whole procession, or any intire body of people [sic].98
This is not entirely truthful, for Baretti commented on England in letters to his family and
friends in Italy, which appeared in Lettere familiari. In one passage he criticized English
peoples’ “boundless prejudice in favour of their own country,” “fierce hatred of the French,”
and “unreasonable contempt for all other nations on Earth,” though he praised the nation’s
martial valor and the character of its aristocracy.99 Yet the way the scholar presented
himself to British audiences is significant. He affirmed that even he, who had adjusted to a
foreign society remarkably, could not appreciate all of the nuances of its culture, perhaps
hoping to flatter British readers and increase book sales. Baretti asserted himself as an
expert only on his own country; the purpose of his Account was to give Britons “ideas of
Italy” that were “more correct than those which they have hitherto received from the
[British] writers on this subject.”100 Thus, the scholar accepted the limited nature of his
assimilation into British society, while also establishing his distinctive contribution to it as
an authority on Italy.
98
Baretti, An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy, Vol. 1, 10-11.
West, 132, note 48; See a letter translated in Collison-Morley, 118-119.
100 Baretti, An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy, iv.
99
24
By navigating cultural boundaries, Baretti befriended Britons who exhibited
prejudice toward foreigners in other contexts. Johnson was the most significant example.
As Baretti put it in his private notes, Johnson “hated the Scotch, the French, the Dutch, the
Hanoverians, and had the greatest contempt for all other European nations.” 101 Reynolds
wrote that “the prejudices [Johnson] had to countries did not extend to individuals . . .
[though] he considered every foreigner as a fool till they had convinced him of the
contrary.”102 According to Clifford, the Johnson scholar, Johnson’s financial difficulties and
commitments to publishers prevented him from visiting Continental Europe until he was
over sixty-five.103 For most of Johnson’s life, therefore, the only foreigners he met were
visitors to London; limited exposure to other cultures perpetuated his prejudices. 104 Even
wealthier, well-traveled members of Johnson’s circle, such as Garrick and Reynolds,
subscribed to xenophobic stereotypes. Garrick mocked French and Italian males’
effeminacy in plays such as Lilliput (1757) and The Male Coquette (1757) respectively,
while Reynolds judged Italian art according to regional caricatures, juxtaposing Bolognese
‘chastity’ with Roman ‘majesty.’ 105 Crucially for Baretti, all of these prejudices applied to
foreigners in the abstract, not necessarily to individuals such as himself. He convinced
British luminaries of his character and scholarly merit, piquing their interest with Italian
expertise while getting to know them in their own language. Without behaving like the fops
of Garrick’s plays, Baretti leveraged the advantageous elements of his background, at times
101
Collison-Morley, 83.
Boswell, Vol. 4, 15 note 3.
103 Clifford, 100.
104 Ibid.
105 Rusnak, 59; Newman, 71; West, 132.
102
25
even perpetuating Italian stereotypes that he never tolerated from Englishmen. 106 For
example, on the same page that he criticized Sharp for his “rage against the Venetians,”
Baretti claimed that, “to make a Venetian happy, three things are required . . . a short mass
in the morning, a little gaming in the afternoon, and a pretty girl in the evening. And here I
own that this saying, which certainly contains the chief outlines of the Venetians’ character,
does not set their morals in the most favorable light.”107 Baretti claimed that stereotype as
an Italian, representing it as authentic cultural knowledge that he, not Sharp, could impart
to British audiences. This selective use of foreignness was the key to the scholar’s career in
London.
Despite Baretti’s success in carving out a niche, there were other obstacles he failed
to overcome. To begin with, Baretti suffered from persistent financial difficulties. Though
he made a profit from his dictionary sales in 1760, Baretti was in debt by the time he
returned to England in 1766, and book revenues did not prevent him from borrowing from
his wealthier friends.108 This safety net was more than most people in Baretti’s situation
could count on, but the lack of a consistent, sustainable salary took a toll on the scholar’s
pride. For instance, Baretti was irritable when he confessed to his brothers that he received
no pay for being Secretary for Foreign Correspondence at the Royal Academy. He
responded haughtily to their inquiry:
I expected you to ask whether there is any salary attached to my new secretarial
post. Does the honour seem so small to you? What if I told you that I should refuse a
salary, if one were offered me? It would do more harm than good, for certain British
reasons, which it would be a long and difficult task for me to explain to you. Nor
would the honor be great were I in a salaried position. In Piedmont, however, people
are not so refined in their ideas as they are here. It is enough for me that my post
106
West, 132, n.48.
Baretti, An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy, Vol. 2, 143-144.
108 Collison-Morley, 110; 184-186; 189.
107
26
must necessarily bring with it a number of new friends, all of them distinguished for
one reason or another.109
In short, despite his title and status, Baretti was in the embarrassing predicament of being
unable to support his lifestyle without the charity of more successful men. The scholar’s
“friends” and patrons were often one and the same; his dependence on them for money,
social introductions, and professional assistance made his position in London more
precarious than he would admit to his brothers, a fact that would trouble him throughout
his career.
Moreover, Baretti was never invited to join the Literary Club despite spending so
much time amongst its members. There are several plausible explanations for this slight.
First, the Club was a highly exclusive forum for scholarly discussion; Baretti could not
compare with the likes of Johnson, Garrick, Burke, and Reynolds, each of whom stood at the
apex of his profession.110 A fine illustration of this gap in status is that while Johnson
helped Baretti write prefaces and dedications for his published works, he did not ask
Baretti to reciprocate.111 Similarly, whereas Reynolds was the first president of the Royal
Academy, Baretti’s secretaryship was purely honorary.112 Johnson took pride in the Club’s
selectivity and guarded that reputation jealously. When he learned his good friend, Garrick,
was thinking of joining, Johnson huffed, “How does he know we will permit him? The first
109
Quoted in Collison-Morley, 200-201.
To this day these luminaries receive far more scholarly attention than Baretti, which perpetuates their
superior reputations. Few remember Baretti, but Johnson, Reynolds, Garrick, and Burke are known as some
of the most consequential Britons of the eighteenth-century.
111 Clifford, 107. According to Johnson scholar Allen T. Hazen, it is probable that Johnson wrote the first
paragraph of the preface to Baretti’s Italian Library and much of the preface to An Introduction to the Italian
Language. Boswell believed Johnson wrote the dedication to Baretti’s dictionary as well. See Allen T. Hazen,
Samuel Johnson’s Prefaces & Dedications, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1937), 6; 12-13; 15-16.
112 Collison-Morley, 200-201. Goldsmith once compared bestowing unpaid titles like Baretti’s to “giving a
man ruffles when he did not possess a shirt.”
110
27
Duke in England has no right to hold such language.” 113 Garrick secured admission
eventually with the support of other members, but Johnson’s reaction to his initial
‘presumption’ is telling. Being friends with Club members did not guarantee admission into
their ranks.
There is evidence that Johnson did not think highly enough of Baretti to nominate
him to the Club. According to Thrale, in 1768 Johnson remarked, “I know no man who
carries his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are strong powers in his mind.
He has not indeed many hooks, but with what hooks he has, he grapples very forcibly.” 114
Given the Club’s exclusivity, Baretti probably would have needed “many hooks” to be
considered for membership. Johnson’s half-compliment suggests that Baretti’s intellect,
though “strong,” was insufficient; he carried his head too high. Boswell’s Life of Johnson
offers a more pointed anecdote with a similar message. Bowell claimed he encountered an
unnamed “foreign friend” of Johnson’s in Italy in the mid-1760s, who said, “’I hate mankind,
for I think myself one of the best of them, and I know how bad I am.’” After Johnson heard
this, he replied, “’Sir, he [the foreigner] must be very singular in his opinion, if he thinks
himself one of the best of men; for none of his friends think him so.”115 The passage almost
certainly refers to Baretti, since he was in Italy at the same time as Boswell, and Johnson
did not have many “foreign friends” one could have encountered in that country.116
Boswell’s dislike of Baretti undermines his objectivity as a source, but his story cannot be
ignored, especially given its similarity to Thrale’s account. It appears that although Johnson
called Baretti a friend, respected his work, and went on to defend him in court, he did not
113
Boswell, Vol. 1, 480.
Piozzi (Thrale), Vol. 1, 92.
115 Boswell, Vol. 2, 8.
116 Ibid, note 3.
114
28
consider Baretti an equal. Johnson’s allusion to Baretti’s other friends – likely including
Club members – suggests that he was not alone in this opinion.
In addition, although Baretti could be quite charming, his fiery temper was offputting and may have made him a less desirable candidate for the Club. Baretti exhibited
this defect frequently when he wrote responses to critics of Italian literature or culture. In
the 1753 preface to A Dissertation upon the Italian Poetry, Baretti castigated Voltaire
himself, claiming the Frenchman’s Essay on the Epic Poetry of all the European Nations
(1727) condemned Italian poets unfairly. “I thought the Author should . . . have written [the
essay] in his own Language,” Baretti snarled, “[rather] than have dishonoured that of
England, by making it the Conveyance of his Impertinence.”117 The scholar responded to
Sharp’s account of Italy with similar contempt. In his words, “if [Sharp’s] utter ignorance of
the Italian language ought to have awed him into silence about the customs and manners of
Italy, the mediocrity of his rank in life could certainly not contribute much toward
qualifying him for such an undertaking.”118 Just as Baretti’s critiques of Italian luminaries
provoked censors in his home country, the tirades he wrote in English may have convinced
the Club that he lacked tact.
Baretti’s temper also damaged his personal relationships. When reflecting on a
quarrel with Hester Thrale, Baretti captured his tendency to lose control: “my bile suddenly
rose to such a degree, that I am sure I uttered my indignation in the most severe terms.” 119
117
Baretti, A Dissertation upon the Italian Poetry, in which are Interspersed some Remarks on Mr. Voltaire’s
Essay on the Epic Poets, (London, 1753), 3-4. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Davidson College
Library. 12 Feb. 2014.
118 Baretti, An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy, Vol. 1, 8-9.
119 Quoted in Gallup, 370-371. Baretti’s temper prompts Rusnak to wonder whether Baretti was in the
wrong when he stabbed Morgan and Patman at the Haymarket. As Chapter Four of this essay will
demonstrate, some of Baretti’s contemporaries made similar accusations.
29
This behavior cost the scholar friends and earned him detractors. For instance, when
Charlotte Lennox accused him of paying more attention to her child than to herself when he
visited their home, Baretti shot back: “You are a child in stature and a child in
understanding.”120 Apparently Baretti began to resent Lennox, believing that she had failed
to uphold their agreement and gave him no English instruction in return for his Italian
lessons. Their friendship did not survive the quarrel. Goldsmith, James Boswell, and the
wealthy translator William Huggins also took issue with Baretti’s stubborn, abrasive
ways.121
Whereas Goldsmith and Boswell came to dislike Baretti’s manner after conversing
with him, Huggins formed a grudge after a curious dispute. In 1754 Huggins asked Baretti
to proofread his translation of Aristio’s Orlando Furioso into English. In return for his
services, Baretti received a small stipend, a gold watch, and a two-month stay at Huggins’
country estate during the summer.122 Baretti was quite content with the arrangement, and,
with his help, Huggins published the translation. The trouble came after Baretti left his
host’s manor. Huggins believed he had only lent Baretti the gold watch, while the latter
insisted it was a gift.123 Despite Huggins’ demands, Baretti refused to return the watch, and
eventually sold it to a pawnshop. From there the situation spiraled out of control; Johnson
tried and failed to mediate the conflict, threats were made, Baretti petitioned the Sardinian
ambassador for protection, and there is some evidence that Huggins tried to compel
Baretti’s landlord to grant a search of his residence. 124 Ultimately, Huggins got his watch
120
See Lubbers-van der Brugge, 26.
Collison-Morley, 91-94; 193; 200-201.
122 Clifford, 102.
123 Ibid, 103.
124 Clifford, 103.
121
30
back from the pawnbroker, but only after Secretary of State Thomas Robinson forced the
Sardinian ambassador to withdraw Baretti’s protection.125 Odd episodes such as this were
significant, recurring blights on Baretti’s career. Not only is it likely that they made Baretti
too controversial for the Club, but also they threatened to undermine his vital ties to the
literati. Baretti never overcame his propensity for indiscretions, and, as a result, his
position in London society rested on thin ice.
When considering Baretti’s successes in England alongside his mishaps, the term
demi-Englishman appears all the more fitting for him. Baretti mastered the English
language and customs, became a leading literary scholar, and befriended some of the
greatest minds in London, but a stereotypically Italian temper jeopardized the patronage
on which he depended. Moreover, Baretti cultivated a transnational image; he tried to
blend in amongst Englishmen while also building a career around introducing Britons to
his native language and culture. In other words, Baretti oscillated between nationalities
without fully committing to either one, a tension reflected by his decision to become a
permanent resident of London without naturalizing. The scholar’s complex position in
British society played a crucial role in the Haymarket Affair and subsequent trial.
125
Ibid, 105.
31
Chapter II
“French Bugger:” Conflicting Narratives of the Haymarket Affair
The Haymarket Affair of October 6, 1769 was a clash of caricatures. During the
confrontation, insults directed at Baretti evoked a triangle of nationalist tropes: the
foppish, sexually deviant foreigner (Baretti), the virtuous British female in distress (the
woman he struck in the face), and patriotic men coming to her defense (Baretti’s
assailants). After the fact, however, newspapers constructed the event very differently,
characterizing the scholar as the victim of an assault by a prostitute and her pimps. This
chapter will analyze these narratives in the cultural context of the period. But first, it is
necessary to become acquainted with the Haymarket.
Like many streets near Covent Garden and Soho, Haymarket was known for its
prostitutes. Guidebooks cataloged their appearance, price, and locations. One publication,
Harris’s List of Covent Garden Ladies, appeared in thirty-four editions between 1760 and
1794.126 James Boswell cavorted (allegedly) with Haymarket prostitutes, as did countless
Londoners and foreign tourists.127 Typically clients encountered the women walking the
streets in the evening.128 When a customer indicated that he desired her services, the
prostitute would take him to a secluded nook on the road, in an alley, or at a nearby
126 Roy Porter, London: A Social History, (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1995), 171-172; Janet Ing
Freeman, “Jack Harris and ‘Honest Ranger’: The Publication and Prosecution of Harris's List of Covent-Garden
Ladies, 1760–95,” The Library, 7th series, Vol 13, No. 4 (December 2012), 1; John Brewer, The Pleasures of the
Imagination: English Culture in the Eighteenth Century, (London: Harper Collins, 1997), 348. Brewer cites
another “collective biography” of local prostitutes, Intrigue à la Mode: or the Covent Garden Atlantis (1767).
127 Porter, 171. On May 9, 1763, Boswell wrote in his London Journal, “At the bottom of the Haymarket I
picked up a strong, jolly young damsel, and taking her under the arm I conducted her to Westminster Bridge,
and then in armour complete did I engage her upon this noble edifice. The whim of doing it there with the
Thames rolling below us amused me much. Yet after the brutish appetite was sated, I could not but despise
myself for being so closely united with such a low wretch.” James Boswell, Boswell’s London Journal, 17621763, edited by F.A. Pottle (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1950), 255-256.
128 Tim Hitchcock, English Sexualities, 1700-1800, (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1997), 95.
32
park.129 Most women who became involved in prostitution did so because they lacked
other means to support themselves, and many suffered from assault and exploitation while
in the trade.130
A minority of prostitutes worked in brothels, which meant more privacy and
centralized control by bawds.131 Many of these establishments hired men, commonly
known as “bullies” or, occasionally, “pimps,” to control disorderly clients and defend the
house against the authorities.132 Contemporary prostitution critics claimed that the bullies
jeopardized the peace. Regardless of prostitution’s moral status, the commentators
contended, the trade was dangerous.133 Pimps robbed customers, lured impressionable,
young girls into their practice, and assaulted people who crossed them. For instance, in
1764 an uncooperative client died after pimps threw him from a brothel window, and at
another house thirty bullies assaulted constables executing a search warrant. 134 The
brothels at Haymarket, in addition to those at nearby Covent Garden and Drury Lane,
ensured that the area had a reputation for crime and illicit sex.
Haymarket was also a well-known arts district. Plays were performed at the Little
Theatre, and King’s Theatre staged Italian operas. Some of the century’s most famous
playwrights and performers, including Samuel Foote, George Frederick Handel, and Henry
Fielding graced these venues. The attractions drew domestic audiences and foreign artists
129 Tony Henderson, Disorderly Women in Eighteenth-Century London: Prostitution and Control in the
Metropolis, 1730-1830, (London: Pearson Longman, 1999), 31.
130 Robert Shoemaker, Gender in English Society, 1650-1850, (London: Longman Press, 1998), 76;
Henderson, 30.
131 Henderson, 30.
132 Ibid.
133 Frank McLynn, Crime and Punishment in Eighteenth-century England, (New York: Routledge, 1989),
100.
134 Ibid.
33
to the Haymarket, including Italian castrati, dancers, and composers. 135 The Italians –
combined with the French Huguenots from nearby Soho – contributed to the theatre
district’s international flavor. Playhouses were also magnets for the aforementioned
streetwalkers, which gave the area a dual reputation for high art and debauchery.136
According to William Law, an Anglican priest, the theatre was “the Sink of Corruption . . . it
is the present Rendezvous of the most profligate Persons of both Sexes . . . it corrupts the
Air, and turns the adjacent Places into publick Nusances [sic].”137 Law’s “adjacent places,”
namely taverns and coffee shops, remained open after the usual business closing time of
eleven o’clock, providing late-night clients with easy access to prostitutes. 138
The simultaneous presence of foreigners, crime, and streetwalkers gave Haymarket
the potential to be a site of cross-cultural conflict, especially in the charged political climate
of the post-Seven Years War period. Contemporary accounts suggest that Londoners
insulted foreign visitors on the streets, particularly if the latter appeared to be from France.
French Abbot Jean-Bernard Le Blanc characterized the London crowd as “rough,” “ill-bred,”
and “always ready” with xenophobic slurs.139 According to Le Blanc, British elites
attempted to atone for the mob’s behavior by treating foreigners graciously, but their
efforts were futile as long as warfare fueled francophobia.140 The abbot summarized the
enduring prejudice:
135 Rusnak, 30; “The Haymarket, West Side,” Survey of London: volumes 29 and 30: St James Westminster,
Part 1. Edited by F. H. W. Sheppard, (1960), 210-214. http://www.britishhistory.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=40568 Accessed: 05 November 2013.
136 Henderson, 59.
137 Quoted in Brewer, 348.
138 Henderson, 59-60.
139 Jean-Bernard Le Blanc, Letters on the English and French Nations, (Dublin: Printed by Richard James,
for William Smith, and George Faulkner, 1747), 17.
140 Ibid, 17; 19.
34
By their continual uneasiness, [Britons] seem to believe that we are in regard to
them what the Persians were to the Athenians, that the king of France is the great
King: hence this invincible aversion to the people who obey him, whom they
suppose that they alone prevent from giving laws to the rest of Europe . . . .141
By mocking foreigners and denouncing France, Londoners asserted their national identity
against what they considered perpetual alien aggression.142 Le Blanc wrote this account in
1747, but the attitudes and behaviors he described were common throughout the
century.143 Thrale recalled that Baretti had an experience that fit Le Blanc’s account in
addition to the Haymarket Affair. While he walked near Chelsea, a stranger jeered: “Come,
sir, will you show me the way to France?” Baretti retorted: “No, sir, but I will show you the
way to Tyburn.”144 The scholar probably did not expect to fight Londoners in 1769, but he
knew some of them were hostile to foreigners.
The combination of Haymarket conditions and popular xenophobia had facilitated at
least one culturally charged episode before the Baretti case. In 1765 French visitor Jean
Pierre Grosley witnessed a melee outside the Little Theatre, in which a French dance
company battled a mob of Englishmen. For several days the combatants engaged each
other with fists and cudgels until, finally, the English triumphed. 145 Yet even an episode of
this magnitude failed to match the spectacle of the Baretti incident. To begin with, although
fights were common in eighteenth-century London, they rarely resulted in death. The
capital’s murder rate was low compared to other European cities, and it declined over the
141
Le Blanc, 19-20, quoted in David B. Horn, Great Britain and Europe in the Eighteenth Century, (Oxford,
UK: Clarendon Press, 1967), 25-26.
142 Newman, 75.
143 Ibid, 37.
144 Piozzi (Thrale), 94. Tyburn was the site of public executions in London.
145 Grosley, Pierre Jean. A Tour to London; or, New Observations on England, and its Inhabitants. Volume
1. London, 1772. The Making Of The Modern World. Web. 9 Nov. 2013, 50-51.
35
course of the century despite significant population growth.146 Foreign travelers
commented on ostensible absence of lethal violence. In 1770 Grosley asserted that
“[London] is the only great city in Europe where neither murders nor assassinations
happen,” and in 1799 another Frenchman, J.H. Meister, claimed that although “frequent
quarrels arise amongst the populace,” “murders are very rarely the consequence.” 147 These
accounts reflect what crime historian Frank McLynn calls a “general consensus:” that in
London widespread property crime coincided with low levels of deadly violence.148 The
Baretti case defied these trends. Not only did the incident leave an Englishman dead, but
also a renowned Italian intellectual wielded the knife. These factors made for one of the
most famous murder cases of the century, and an excellent glimpse into the intersection
between xenophobia, gender, and class in eighteenth-century London.
The language used in the Haymarket brawl evoked a popular association between
foreignness, Frenchness, and sexual deviance. Elizabeth Ward – whom Baretti punched in
the face – testified that during the tussle someone called Baretti a “buggerer,” a lower-class
pejorative meaning sodomite or homosexual.149 Baretti told the court that he heard several
insults, beginning just after the woman next to Ward tried to grope him. When Baretti cried
out, the unidentified female recognized him as a foreigner based on his accent, and then
called him “several bad names in a most consumelious strain [sic]; among which, French
bugger, [damned] Frenchman, and a woman-hater, were the most audible . . . .”150 Thomas
146
Robert Shoemaker, The London Mob: Violence and Disorder in Eighteenth-Century England, (New York:
Hambledon and London, 2004), 153, 170; Mclynn, 49.
See Shoemaker, 170, for a chart documenting London homicide rates from 1690-1799.
147 Quoted in Shoemaker, 153.
148 McLynn, 49.
149 October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti; Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd ed., s.v. “bugger;” “buggerer.”
150 Ibid.
36
Patman and John Clark – Baretti’s surviving assailants – denied hearing or uttering any
slurs. However, most contemporary accounts of the case assumed that Baretti was the
target of xenophobic insults; analyzing the use of the term French bugger is necessary to
understand the incident’s significance.
By mistaking an Italian for a Frenchman, the Haymarket woman revealed a
worldview dominated by the Anglo-Gallic rivalry, a paradigm in which “French” and
“foreign” were interchangeable categories. According to Hitchcock, Emsley, and
Shoemaker, until the nineteenth century it was common for Britons to misidentify
foreigners as French, regardless of their actual nationality.151 The Haymarket woman’s
instinctive use of French bugger indicates that she had heard or used the phrase before,
which could reflect the prevalence of gallophobic attitudes in Britain. From the woman’s
perspective, Baretti was not a famous Italian intellectual and member of the London
literati; instead he was a dangerous ‘Frenchman.’
Bugger was a serious insult; it accused the target of performing an egregious sin, a
crime punishable by death.152 According to Shoemaker, in the eighteenth century Britons
considered sodomy and homosexuality perversions of proper male behavior, and sodomy
prosecutions became increasingly common in response to an emerging homosexual
subculture in London.153 The Old Bailey proceedings’ descriptions of indictments attest to
the severity of the offense.154 Many trial transcripts referred to sodomy as a “detestable
151
Clive Emsley, Tim Hitchcock, and Robert Shoemaker, "Communities - Huguenot and French London,"
Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 January 2014).
152 Shoemaker, The London Mob, 58.
153 Shoemaker, Gender in English Society, 83.
154 Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 10 November 2013), February
1760, trial of Emanuel Roze (t17600227-44); Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org,
version 7.0, 10 November 2013), May 1761, trial of Thomas Andrews (t17610506-23); Old Bailey Proceedings
37
crime,” and one emphasized how the accused allowed another man to “unlawfully and
wickedly” lay hands on him.155 Combined with Baretti’s testimony, this evidence suggests
that being identified as a “bugger” exposed a person to defamation, violence, and legal
retribution. The Haymarket woman may not have thought Baretti was actually a
homosexual in the instant she insulted him, but her choice of words is a revealing
manifestation of contemporary discourse.
The term French bugger fused xenophobia with sexual condemnation. At the micro
level it reified a recurring theme in nationalist prints, which vilified France and its allies.
For example, The Colonies Reduced and Its Companion (1768) suggested that Parliament’s
quarrel with the American colonies exposed the empire to invasion by sexualized, alien
foes.156 The image’s first panel depicted the colonies as dismembered and helpless, while
the second illustrated Louis XV blinding Britannia, seizing America, and gloating:” “Now me
will be de grande Monarque indeed! me vill be King of de whole World [sic].” Meanwhile,
Spain (France’s ally in the Seven Years War) raped Britannia from behind with a sword.
The scene demonstrates that associations between foreignness and sodomy existed not
only on Haymarket Street, but also in the wider culture of eighteenth-century propaganda.
To appreciate fully these caricatures, it is necessary to consider the cartoon
foreigners’ victim, Britannia. Iconographically similar to the Roman goddess Minerva,
Britannia was a popular symbol of Britain and its national honor, an icon dating back to
Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 10 November 2013), October 1761, trial of William Bailey
(t17611021-35); Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 10 November 2013),
October 1770, trial of Bartholomew Langley (t17701024-38).
155 October 1761, trial of William Bailey.
156 Wilson, 223-225.
38
Roman rule of the island.157 She also represented myriad virtues relevant to an effective
citizenry, including patriotism, honesty, self-sacrifice, and simplicity.158 Typically Britannia
wore a dress or tunic, and bore a lance and a shield decorated with a coat of arms.159 Her
beauty and dignity made her a deeply sympathetic victim of foreign aggression. For
instance, in addition to her brutal treatment in The Colonies prints, Britannia appeared half
naked, tied down, and cut to pieces by French marauders in A View of the Assassination of
the Lady of John Bull Esqr (1757).160 “We shall humble her & spoil her Beauty,” the French
crowed, “You may Cut & hack away . . . We shall soon have Another of her principle
Members.” 161 Britannia’s plight embodied popular fears of French encroachment at the
outset of the Seven Years War, her discarded body parts representing lost territories.
Nearby, a slumbering English lion and an idle, cobweb-ridden fleet highlight the
consequences of Britain lowering its guard. Similarly, Touch it again – and be hang’d (1758)
depicted a Frenchman menacing Britannia, Justice, and Commerce (all females) with a
phallic rapier, highlighting the French threat to the British economy.162 Both prints
suggested that Britain would suffer Britannia’s fate if men did not rise to their nation’s
defense, conflating patriotic duty with the chivalric imperative to aid a woman in distress.
157
See Herbert M. Atherton, Political Prints in the Age of Hogarth: A Study of the Ideographic
Representation of Politics, (London: Oxford University Press, 1974), 91.
158 Ibid, 94.
159 Tamara L. Hunt, Defining John Bull: Political Caricature and National Identity in Late Georgian England,
(Burlington, Vermont: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2003), 122.
160 Atherton, 96.
161 Edward Hawkins and Frederic George Stephens, Catalogue of Prints and Drawings in the British
Museum, Division I: Political and Personal Satires (No. 3117 to No. 3804), Vol 3, part 2, (London: Printed by
Order of the Trustees, 1877), 1106.
162 A political and satirical history of the years 1756, 1757, 1758, 1759, 1760, 1761, and 1762. In a series of
one hundred and twelve humourous and entertaining prints. Containing All the most remarkable Transactions,
Characters and Caricatures of those Memorable Years. To which is annexed, An Explanatory Account or Key to
every Print which renders the Whole full and significant, The fourth edition. London, (1762). Eighteenth
Century Collections Online. Gale. Davidson College Library. 10 Nov. 2013.
39
In the 1750s and 60s, the call for heroic males coincided with a national crisis of
masculinity. Commentators feared that the British ruling class lacked the martial spirit to
defend Britannia against foreign enemies. According to Reverend John Brown of
Newcastle’s Estimate of the Manners and Principles of the Times (1757), French influence
preoccupied the British aristocracy with fashion and luxury goods, rendering it too corrupt
and timid to lead the nation during wartime.163 Brown suggested that enfeebled military
leaders were responsible for Britain’s humiliating defeats at the outset of the Seven Years
War. Furthermore, French-inspired, elite effeminacy had trickled down to the British
masses, producing a “weakened “national Spirit of Defence,” and a more divided nation in
which “unmanly Vanity” supplanted “Honour.”164 Brown feared that Britain would be easy
“Prey to the Insults and Invasions of our most powerful Enemy.”165 Prints gave visual
character to Brown’s sentiments, depicting cowardly British military officers holding
French products or being duped into passivity by French counsel.166 The French were both
dandies and dire threats to an increasingly effete Britain. This perplexing caricature
compelled Brown to preempt an objection, that if French culture was so “effeminate,” then
how could France be a military rival? Brown contended that France “checked” its
effeminacy with strong civil and military academies, martial valor, and a powerful monarch
that gave “Unity and Steddiness [sic]” to its foreign policy.167 The British aristocracy lacked
163
Newman, 80-84. John Brown, An Estimate of the Manners and Principles of the Times, Vol 1. 6th
ed. London, 1757. The Making Of The Modern World. Web. 10 Nov. 2013, 36, 82, 135.
164 Brown, Vol. 1, 181, quoted in Kathleen Wilson, The Sense of the People: Politics, Culture and Imperialism
in England, 1715-1785 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 62; 187.
165 Brown, 182.
166 A political and satirical history of the years 1756, 1757 (etc.), 65; 96.
167 Brown, Vol. 1, 134-140; Newman, 82-83.
40
such safeguards. For the reverend, Britain’s imperial rivalry with France was linked
inextricably to a struggle for cultural survival.
Brown’s treatise was, in Newman’s words, “the great early philosophical manifesto”
of English nationalism.168 The book was so popular that publishers printed seven editions
during its first year of circulation.169 Brown systematized widespread popular resentment
of the ruling class, fear of France, and yearning for national revitalization through
aggressive foreign policy.170 Prime Minister William Pitt, the Elder became the political
embodiment of this movement during the Seven Years War. Under his leadership, Britain
turned the tide of the conflict and acquired new territories in North America and the
Caribbean. For a moment, nationalists basked in Britain’s victory over its nemesis, but the
Peace of Paris of 1763 reignited their anxiety. The Earl of Bute, who succeeded Pitt as
Prime Minister in 1762, relinquished strategic gains such as Martinique, Manila, and Cuba,
claiming that concessions were necessary to end the war and prevent French retaliation.
Bute’s critics argued that the treaty “restored the enemy to her former greatness,” and
concerns about imperial vulnerability mounted due to intensifying unrest in the American
colonies.171
In response to the omnipresent French threat and the vices of British elites,
propagandists urged middle-class males to defend the empire. According to Brown, the
middle ranks of British society possessed the most enduring “spirit of liberty;” it was up to
168
Newman, 80.
James E. Crimmins, “Brown, John,” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Vol. 8, 65.
170 Newman, 80.
171 Paul Langford, The Eighteenth Century: 1688-1815, (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1976), 149.
169
41
them to redeem the nation.172 Pitt, “the Great Commoner” who refused a noble title until
1766, demanded “the entire overthrow of the French system,” and challenged ‘corrupt’
aristocratic ministers, exemplified Brown’s archetype.173 So too did male-dominated
patriotic associations. Prints extolled Britons for forming groups to rally against the
Jacobite uprising of 1745 and for performing bravely in colonial militias during the Seven
Years War.174 In 1756, Jonas Hanway and twenty-two of his merchant colleagues founded
the Marine Society, which organized unemployed men, vagrants, and orphaned boys, gave
them clothes, and sent them to join the British navy. The Society obtained over 1,500
subscribers and put approximately 10,000 males into the service by the war’s end in
1763.175 Another organization, The Society of Arts, promoted the British economy and
culture. Established in 1754 by William Shipley, a provincial drawing-master, the group
facilitated the acquisition of cobalt and madder to make Britain’s textile industry selfsufficient, awarded prizes to those who grew trees used for ship masts, and organized the
largest public, domestic art exhibition to date in 1761.176 The Society of Arts had over 2,100
supporters by 1764, in addition to agents throughout Britain and the American colonies. 177
Members believed that, to challenge the French, Britain had to match their luxury products
and cultural prestige.178 The patriotic activities of non-elite British males contributed to the
172
John Brown, An Estimate of the Manners and Principles of the Times, Vol 2. 6th ed. London, 1757-58. The
Making Of The Modern World. Web. 10 Nov. 2013, 30.
173 Newman, 169-173.
174 Wilson, 189-190. See images such as Forty-Six and Fifty-Six (1756) and English Lion Dismember’d
(1757), both available at Yale University’s Lewis Walpole Library.
175 Colley, 91.
176 Ibid, 90-91.
177 Ibid.
178 Ibid.
42
rise of John Bull, a new national icon representing trueborn British virtue. 179 Bull was a
brawny English squire whose blunt, simple demeanor embodied the idea of English
honesty and sincerity, the antithesis of French deviousness and aristocratic effeminacy. 180
Although he became more prominent later in the century, Bull, like Pitt, evoked a
developing ideal of ordinary Britons defending Britannia and her culture against foreign
challenge.181
Motifs such as the foppish, deviant foreigner, virtuous Britannia, and patriotic John
Bull combined to create a complex, nationalist iconography in the 1750s and 60s. Antiforeign prejudice, class conflict, and gender discourse were mutually reinforcing, so closely
related that they are impossible to discuss separately. Although the original sources of
francophobia were cultural differences, the history of Anglo-French antagonism, and
contemporary fear of invasion, Britons conceptualized the French threat in sexualized
terms, juxtaposing the enemy’s licentiousness with British purity and virtue. Meanwhile,
critiques of effeminate aristocrats highlighted and amplified class divisions, juxtaposing the
‘true’ Britishness of the middling ranks with an increasingly Frenchified elite.
In a sense, the Haymarket incident was a prime example of non-elite British men
defending a British female against a foreigner. Even though Baretti was Italian, similar
foreign stereotypes would have applied to him. Italy was associated with effeminacy,
dandyism, and licentiousness, and Britons who traveled there risked being accused of
adopting immoral sexual practices. An entire genre of British satire revolved around
179
Atherton, 97-99.
Newman, 133.
181 Atherton, 97.
180
43
“Macaronis:” wealthy British men turned into effete sodomites by Italian influence. 182
Moreover, Italians were characterized often as knife-wielding ruffians, a notion supported
by British accounts of homicide in Italian cities.183 Baretti and Sharp debated this
stereotype just one year before the Haymarket incident. In An Account of the Manners and
Customs of Italy, Baretti accused Sharp of “having endeavoured to persuade his readers that
the Venetian populace, like all other in Italy [sic], are a set of abominable Villains, who will
treacherously stab on the least provocation [emphasis in original].”184 Irony reigned on
Haymarket Street: now Baretti stood accused of embodying the very caricature he
condemned.
Despite the potential to portray Baretti as a lewd murderer who assaulted a woman
and killed her English defender, press coverage of the case spun a different narrative, one
in which the scholar was the victim. For instance, the Public Advertiser reported:
Friday Night, about Eight o’ Clock, Mr. Joseph Baretti, the Author of the Letters upon
Italy, and well known in the Literary World, was attacked at the End of Pantonstreet, near the Hay-Market, by a Street-Walker, who rudely and indecently accosted
him: he pushed her Hands from him, and she finding that he was a Foreigner, cried
out French Bougre, and other gross Terms of Reproach, upon which a Man came up,
one of her Company, and began to abuse and strike him; upon this more gathered
about him, and continued striking and pushing him from Side to Side. He at last
drew a little Silver Desert Knife [sic], with a Silver Blade, and warned them not to
use him ill; that he could no longer bear it, and would strike the first Person that
came near him. They still pursuing him, he moving from them to defend himself,
wounded two Men, one of whom lies dangerously ill in the Middlesex Hospital. – It is
great Pity that the Gentleman, who is worthily at the Head of our Police, cannot
prevent these continual Assaults in the Streets, from these abandoned Wretches and
182
Rictor Norton, “The Macaroni Club: Homosexual Scandals in 1772,” Homosexuality in EighteenthCentury England: A Sourcebook, 19 December 2004, updated 11 June 2005.
<http://rictornorton.co.uk/eighteen/macaroni.htm>.
Macaroni caricatures abounded in prints, plays, literature, and periodicals. According to Norton, the
macaroni was depicted as an overly-dressed, sexually ambiguous man.
183 Rusnak, 212-213.
184 Baretti, An Account of the Manners and Customs of Italy, Vol. 1, 45-46. Se also Rusnak, 177-178.
44
their Bullies.185
Other publications such as Lloyd’s Evening Post, Gentleman’s Magazine, The London
Chronicle, and The Oxford Magazine offered similar accounts of the event.186 The articles
claimed, without evidence, that the woman who groped Baretti was a prostitute, and
ignored Elizabeth Ward’s presence at the scene and Baretti’s blow to her head. Few aside
from the Public Advertiser acknowledged the fact that Baretti stabbed Patman before he
slew Morgan. The papers asserted that the male assailants were the “prostitute’s” pimps,
an assumption probably based on Haymarket’s seedy reputation. 187 Unlike the unidentified
woman at Haymarket, who saw Baretti as a menacing foreigner who just hit someone in the
face, the newspapers defined him according to his literary reputation. The papers
juxtaposed Baretti’s intellectual standing with a thuggish, sexualized portrayal of his
antagonists, emphasizing the abuse the scholar endured before drawing his knife. Baretti
became the antithesis of a murderer: a bewildered intellectual fighting for his life. Although
the articles were unsigned and did not list their sources, it seems reasonable to suspect, as
Rusnak does, that Baretti’s friends in the literati helped shape the coverage. 188
The press implied that Baretti’s intellectual credentials rendered him above
reproach. For instance, on the day of Baretti’s trial, The Independent Chronicle ran a
flattering profile of him that had nothing to do with the case. The title of the piece – “Some
185
Public Advertiser (London, England), October 9, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D, 405.
See Lloyd’s Evening Post, and British Chronicle (London, England), October 6, 1769, quoted in Rusnak,
Appendix D, 403; Gentleman’s Magazine (London, England), October, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D,
403; Independent Chronicle or Freeholder’s Evening Post, (London, England), October 6, 1769, quoted in
Rusnak, Appendix D, 406; Middlesex Journal (London, England), October 19, 1769, quoted in Rusnak,
Appendix D, 409; The Oxford Magazine (Oxford, England), October 1769 quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D, 411;
London Chronicle (London, England), October 19, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D, 414.
187 Rusnak, 44-45; 100.
188 Ibid, 78.
186
45
Account of Mr. Baretti, whose Trial came on this Morning for the Murder of Evan Morgan" –
mentioned Baretti’s legal troubles, but the content focused exclusively on his scholarship
and travels, as if the latter made the former insignificant. The article emphasized Baretti’s
“insatiable thirst for knowledge and observation,” the “correctness and elegance” of his
English writings, and his reputation among Britons “of rank an learning.”189 Aside from the
title, the piece neglected the deceased Evan Morgan entirely. Other reports mentioned the
“poor,” “unfortunate” Morgan, but they did not always include his name, and none
questioned Baretti’s use of deadly force against him.190
The Public Advertiser (quoted above) and a letter to the printer of the London
Chronicle suggested that Baretti was one of many gentlemen who were victims of
“continual Assaults” by prostitutes and their bullies. The letter, written by an anonymous
“Lover of Order,” stated that:
The abandoned women of the town are come to such a pitch of profligacy, that it is
incumbent upon magistracy to look after them. They have a method now of
attacking their prey in the streets, not by whispering and their usual assumed
softness, and manner of address, but by the most indecent assault that can be
imagined; they have no intention to merely prostitute themselves to the passengers,
but they endeavour to deprive him of his senses, by a method too abominable to be
mentioned, and then to rifle his pockets. It is well known now, that this is the
common practice, and a young man lately so attacked in the Strand, died a few days
after. A friend of mine, no later than the last week, was assaulted in the same
infamous way. If the blow they give has not the effect, and the man has strength to
strike away the assaulters and, and [sic] escapes being robbed, she immediately
cries out, and brings her bullies about her, the consequence of which is very well
known. I appeal to every man who walks the streets in the evening, or at night,
whether something of this kind has not happened to him; and it is so grievous and
189
"Some Account of Mr. Baretti, whose Trial came on this Morning for the Murder of Evan Morgan."
Independent Chronicle or Freeholder’s Evening Post (London, England) October. 18, 1769 - October. 20, 1769:
n.p. 17th and 18th Century Burney Collection. Web. 13 Nov. 2013.
190 Independent Chronicle or Freeholder’s Evening Post, October 6, 1769; Lloyd’s Evening Post, and British
Chronicle, October 6, 1769; The Oxford Magazine, October 1769.
46
crying an evil, that Justice would be deaf indeed, if she do [sic] not immediately
attend to it.191
Like the Public Advertiser, the Lover of Order placed the Baretti case – which he or she
referred to obliquely as “a late affair, mentioned in your Saturday’s paper” – in the context
of a larger narrative of elite victimization by street dwellers. The “young man’s” demise in
the Strand suggested the issue was a matter of life and death. 192 Both articles called upon
the London authorities to address the matter, arguing that it was unjust for gentlemen like
Baretti to have to defend themselves against marauding pimps. The implication was that
someone had to put the ruffians down; the authorities’ negligence forced Baretti to take
matters into his own hands. This framing of the case shifted the blame from Baretti while
disregarding his antagonists’ perspectives entirely.
Baretti was one of many powerful people accused of crimes who received
preferential treatment in eighteenth-century England. According to McLynn, the crime
historian, in this context “powerful” was a broad category, encompassing attributes that
ranged from “knowledge and education to vast wealth and direct political influence.” 193
Elites were significantly more likely to be acquitted of offenses such as theft, robbery,
assault, rape, and even murder due to their reputation and resources. 194 Every so often
courts punished noblemen severely to illustrate ‘evenhandedness,’ but the rarity of such
cases spoke to the system’s bias.195 Baretti was no British aristocrat, but he was rich in
191
“To the Printer,” The London Chronicle (London, England), October 12, 1769, quoted in Rusnak,
Appendix D, 408.
192 The Strand is a major thoroughfare that demarcates the boundary between Westminster and London.
It is not far from the Haymarket.
193 Frank McLynn, Crime & Punishment in Eighteenth-Century England, (New York: Routledge, 1989), 133.
194 Ibid, 147-148.
195 Ibid, 149-150.
47
education, intellectual status and illustrious connections; he was treated automatically with
less suspicion than the disreputable folk assumed to frequent Haymarket. Prints
juxtaposed chaste Britannia with alien deviants, but the Haymarket Affair involved a
“Street-Walker” grabbing a renowned scholar by his genitals. Unlike Britannia, who was
always the target of sexual aggression, the unidentified woman took the initiative,
appropriating a traditionally male prerogative. The press used this transgression to cast
her as a harlot rather than maiden needing defense. The battered bystander Elizabeth
Ward might have been a more believable Britannia, but her presence went
unacknowledged. By discrediting the Haymarket woman and ignoring Ward, the
newspapers erased Morgan, Patman, and Clark’s reason for confronting Baretti, rendering
them as symptoms of lawlessness and debauchery.
Despite popular disdain for foreign effeminacy, Baretti benefitted from appearing
weaker than his male antagonists. Though he dealt the mortal blow, the newspapers
emphasized that Baretti had to use a dessert knife in a desperate attempt to defend himself
against numerous, more powerful “bullies.” Without implying that Baretti was a sexual
deviant, they suggested he was not virile enough to threaten an Englishwoman. The
scholar’s ostensible meekness became his strength in the battle of public perception; it
made him the victim instead of the perpetrator. Meanwhile, by embodying the masculine
valor extolled in political prints, Patman, Clark, and Morgan became vulnerable to thuggish
representations. The press used stereotypes selectively to cast Baretti in a sympathetic
light.
48
The Haymarket Affair was a classic case of groups closing ranks in a moment of
conflict. Signifiers such as Baretti’s foreign accent, his blow to Ward, or his standing among
the literati prompted different people to categorize him as a friend or foe, as a scholarly
victim or French bugger. Morgan, Patman, and Clark were an Englishwoman’s saviors or a
prostitute’s bullies depending on the observer’s perspective. In short, assumptions about
collective identity shaped attitudes toward the event. The juxtaposition between Baretti's
educated, elite allies and his working-class antagonists is consistent with Colley and
Newman's research, and became the cornerstone of the defense’s narrative to the jury.
49
Chapter III
“Man of Literature:” Defense Strategy at the Old Bailey
Baretti’s acquittal at the Old Bailey was the result of an extraordinary intervention
by the British intelligentsia. The defendant’s affluent patrons such as Garrick, Burke,
Reynolds, and MP William Fitzherbert gave him a staggering 2,000 pounds to post bail,
along with three attorneys to help make his case. 196 They put the full weight of their
reputations behind Baretti, publically affirming his character from the witness stand. By
transforming a dire predicament into a widely publicized victory, the luminaries not only
rescued a colleague, but also they demonstrated their own clout.
Like the pre-trial press coverage, the defense portrayed Baretti as a harmless
scholar who defended himself against a prostitute and pimps. This narrative highlighted
Baretti’s foreignness selectively. While Baretti emphasized his fear of assailants who
mistook him for a Frenchman, and explained that his knife was a French dining utensil, he
addressed the jury in English and never clarified that he was Italian. Baretti also declared
his faith in English impartiality by waiving his right, as a non-Briton, to a half-foreign jury.
These decisions, combined with the endorsement of his character witnesses, enabled
Baretti to present himself as an assimilated foreigner worthy of sympathy. This chapter
examines the defense’s strategy and the trial’s significance.
196
At the time, 2,000 pounds was worth at least 400,000 dollars in today’s currency. H.W.L. [Herman
Wardwell Liebert], A Constellation of Genius: Being a Full Account of the Trial of Joseph Baretti, (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1958), 5; Rusnak, 406.
50
Baretti’s lawyers gave him a significant advantage over most defendants, only six
percent of whom had counsel at the Old Bailey during the mid-eighteenth century. 197Most
trials involved the victim of the crime or a representative acting as the prosecutor while the
defendant represented him or herself, since public counsel did not exist. 198 The accused
lacked the right to remain silent and was not presumed innocent; she had to win her
freedom by refuting the prosecution’s claims.199 Most defendants had to rely on their own,
limited understanding of the law while making their cases and questioning witnesses.
Judges informed defendants of helpful legal loopholes – such as those created by faulty
indictments – and ensured that illegal procedures did not interfere with the defense, but
they were by no means defense advocates. 200 Attorneys could not address the jury or make
claims about the facts of the case, but they could aid the defendant in several important
ways. Through cross-examination, defense lawyers poked holes in the prosecution’s
argument, exposed perjurious statements by the prosecution’s witnesses, and shifted the
burden of proof away from the accused.201 Counsel could also assemble witnesses while the
defendant awaited trial in jail, greatly enhancing the defense’s presentation to the jury.202
According to Boswell, the defense lawyers, Burke, Johnson, and several others met before
the trial to plan their strategy.203
197
Allyson N. May, The Bar and the Old Bailey, 1750-1850, (Chapel Hill: University of North
Carolina Press, 2003), 29.
198 Ibid, 20.
199 Clive Emsley, Tim Hitchcock and Robert Shoemaker, "Crime and Justice - Trial Procedures," Old Bailey
Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 03 December 2013).
200 May, 21.
201 Emsley et al., “Crime and Justice – Trial Procedures;” May, 106; 113.
202 May, 108.
203 Collison-Morley, 212; Boswell, Vol. 4, 324. Baretti’s lawyers were Arthur Murphy, “Mr. Lucas,” and
“Solicitor Cox.” Murphy (1727-1805), was a barrister, playwright, journalist, and biographer who introduced
51
Even though Baretti had the rare benefit of counsel, many Londoners doubted his
prospects as the trial drew near. According to Baretti biographer Lacy Collison-Morley,
Burke and Johnson warned the Italian not to “hope too strongly” for an acquittal.204 Other
observers were confident of Baretti’s demise. Before the court granted Baretti bail, an
Italian instructor visited him in his cell, requesting a letter of recommendation for Baretti’s
teaching position after his execution. Furious, Baretti called the man a rascal and declared,
“if I were not [sic] in my own apartment I would kick you downstairs directly!”205
Insolent though he was, the Italian teacher had reason to bet on Baretti’s conviction.
The Haymarket assailants were unarmed, which undermined the defense’s claim that
Baretti had to use lethal force in self-defense. Baretti risked being portrayed as a hotblooded Italian with a stiletto rather than a scholar with a fruit knife. According to Richard
Griffith, who wrote to Baretti’s friend Lord Charlemont shortly before the trial, this
stereotype made it difficult for the defendant to obtain bail, though he ultimately succeeded
with the help of his patrons.206 Finally, according to Britain’s Stabbing Act of 1604, killing
another person with a knife was a capital offense, an inherently murderous act that could
not be justified by any mitigating circumstances. The grand jury charged Baretti under this
statute specifically.207 The defendant could claim that his fruit knife saved his life, but the
letter of the law gave the trial jury no leeway to acquit him on that basis. 208 He was
the Thrales to Samuel Johnson in 1765. Mr. Lucas was probably Henry Lucas (1740-1802), another attorney
who was interested in theater. Little is known about Solicitor Cox. See Rusnak, 83, note 107.
204 Collison-Morley, 212.
205 Ibid, 209.
206 Rusnak, 73-74; Collison-Morley, 207; 210.
207 Whitehall Evening Post, (London, England), October 17, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D, 403.
208 McLynn, 38-39.
52
fortunate that jurors did not always apply the law as written.209 Nevertheless, the troubling
fact remained: Baretti had to convince twelve Englishmen to exonerate him for knifing
their countryman.
At the trial, the defense addressed this challenge by representing Baretti as a
cultured intellectual who used lethal force as a last resort. Like his sympathizers in the
press, Baretti’s attorneys highlighted the xenophobic slurs directed at him, using crossexamination to portray the Haymarket men as dangerous, bigoted thugs. They asked
eyewitnesses about the slurs directed at Baretti, making the xenophobia clear to the jury by
inquiring about specific pejoratives such as French bugger and French woman-hater.210
When Elizabeth Ward claimed “there were no names called,” the lawyer forced her to admit
that she had testified previously to the contrary, whereupon she conceded, “I remember
hearing some say buggerer, or some such name.”211 This concession helped the defense
counsel when they cross-examined the two surviving assailants, Thomas Patman and John
Clark, both of whom denied hearing xenophobic language. Ward’s testimony might have
been more believable to the jury than Clark and Patman’s, since the former had little reason
to lie on Baretti’s behalf after he hit her in the face. The defense also undermined Clark’s
testimony by proving that, prior to the trial, he had admitted hearing anti-foreign insults.
The attorneys’ questions about the xenophobic language put the topic in the jury’s
minds before Baretti discussed the abuse himself. Reading from a statement he prepared
209
Frank McLynn, Crime & Punishment in Eighteenth-Century England, (New York: Routledge, 1989), 38-
39.
210 October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti. The proceedings do not specify who asked the vast majority of
these questions. At the time, judges, defendants, and attorneys were allowed to conduct examinations.
However, since the record indicates that Baretti had counsel to represent him, it is almost certain that his
lawyers were cross-examining the prosecution’s witnesses. This assumption seems reasonable, especially
since the source attributes certain questions to “Counsel.”
211 Ibid.
53
the night before the trial, the defendant claimed that his antagonists surrounded him,
“many beating [him], and all [damning him] on every side, in a most frightful manner.”
According to Baretti, being mistaken for a Frenchman led him to expect “no favour nor
protection, but all outrage and blows.” Baretti suggested that, in this context, being
identified as a Frenchman was the precursor to being beaten to a pulp.
The defendant elaborated on his fear by emphasizing his weakness relative to the
assailants. He implored the jury to consider his poor eyesight, hoping that it “will easily be
conceived, that a man almost blind could not but be seized with terror, on such a sudden
attack as this.” Baretti also claimed to be slower than his foes, thus there was no possibility
of a peaceful retreat. He claimed that, after they attempted to shove him into the path of
oncoming carriages, the men pursued him down the street, “continually beating and
pushing [him]” and trying to grab him by the hair.212 Finally, Baretti said,
. . . somewhere in Panton-street, I gave a quick blow to one who beat off my hat with
his fist. When I was in Oxendon-street, fifteen or sixteen yards from the Haymarket,
I stopped and faced about. My confusion was great, and seeing a shop open, I ran
into it for protection, quite spent with fatigue. I am certainly sorry for the man, but
he owed his death to his own daring impetuosity . . . . A man who has lived full fifty
years, and spent most of that time in a studious manner, I hope, will not be supposed
to have voluntarily engaged in so desperate an affair. 213
From a legal standpoint, Baretti asserted a crucial element of a self-defense plea: he had
reason to believe that his attackers meant to do him grievous bodily harm, thus he was
justified in the use of deadly force (assuming the jury ignored the Stabbing Act). The
defendant placed blame squarely on the deceased assailant, Evan Morgan, contrasting
Morgan’s unending train of punches and pushes with his own “quick blow” in reply. Baretti
also neglected that he wounded Thomas Patman. In short, he used the narrative of an old,
212
213
October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti.
Ibid.
54
meek literary critic defending himself against jingoistic ruffians to preempt the image of a
malicious Italian stabbing an unarmed Englishman.214
Comparing Baretti’s Old Bailey speech to his accounts in personal letters illuminates
how carefully he adapted his story for different audiences. In a message to his brothers
shortly before the trial, he wrote,
I took from my pocket a knife with a silver blade, screaming like a bull. My voice and
the knife opened the crowd on one side. I started to run along a side street with the
crowd behind me and a storm of punches hitting me; and I was slashing with my
knife while running. I wounded one man under his armpit because he was holding
his arm up high while throwing a punch. He screamed, but nobody paid any
attention, and I kept on running, the rascals behind me, and more and more
punches. The most evil of so many assailants (all of them low-life, as later was
shown) was a man called Morgan, who tried several times to grab me by my hair
which I kept in a ponytail. I hit him with my knife twice, always running. The evil
man did not feel the two wounds, and wanted a third one, which made him fall to
the ground yelling.215
Discarding the accouterments of a frail scholar, Baretti described himself as a swashbuckler
who overpowered his assailant with three powerful knife thrusts. So much for “a quick
blow.” Whereas in court Baretti needed to be a victim, he wanted his brothers to see him as
a strong, honorable man who could hold his own. He adopted a similar posture in a letter to
the Venetian Count Vincenzo Bujovich, declaring, “Those scoundrels can truly be thankful I
did not have a sword.”216 Yet even in the privacy of letters Baretti was careful to anticipate
accusations. As he put it to the Count, “it was not my hot temper which pushed me, as you
say, to defend myself bravely . . . . It was the love we all feel for life. It was dead for dead,
214
October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti.
Baretti, “Letter to the Baretti Brothers,” October 17, 1769, Epistolario, Vol. 1, 312-313, translated by
Sylvia Hipple.
216 Ibid, “Letter to Count Vincenzo Bujovich,” December 10, 1769, Epistolario, Vol. 1, 431, translated by
Sylvia Hipple.
215
55
and I started hitting like the blind man I am.” In short, Baretti always managed his image;
the letters make his courtroom presentation appear all the more calculated.
To mitigate the fact that he was the only one armed during the confrontation, Baretti
told the jury that the knife he wielded was a dining utensil rather than a dagger. Baretti
explained that he carried the instrument in France since the French did not allow knives on
the table, and found the tool “occasionally convenient” in London; he never intended it for
violent use. Later Garrick corroborated this assertion when he took the stand, claiming that
he and his wife owned similar utensils.217 In short, the defense presented Baretti as a
cultured gentleman defending himself with the only instrument he had. On one hand the
accused illustrated his worldliness and cosmopolitan taste, but on the other he risked
associating himself with the very culture that inspired hatred at Haymarket, the civilization
that many Britons reviled for ‘corrupting’ their leaders and threatening their territories.
Baretti may have endeared himself to the jurors by demonstrating his faith in their
impartiality. He waived his right to a half-foreign jury and concluded his testimony by
affirming the “English discernment to trace out truth.”218 Baretti claimed that, as a matter
of honor, he wanted to obtain an acquittal with the merits of his case alone. Rather than
attempting to “compliment” England, Baretti said he wanted to avoid the appearance of
profiting from “an undeserved favour from a Jury part [of his] own country.” Thus, while
preempting accusations of flattery, the defendant declared his faith in the jury’s
evenhandedness, insulating the jurors from his critique of the belligerent English
nationalism he encountered at the Haymarket. Saving these remarks for the end of his
testimony ensured that they would have the greatest impact on the jury.
217
218
Baretti, “Letter to Count Vincenzo Bujovich.”
October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti.
56
One might wonder whether Baretti was trying to compliment the jurors with his
carefully crafted statement, but a private letter he sent to his brothers suggests that he was
being sincere. “I mean to run the great risk,” Baretti wrote before the trial, professing
“confidence both in [his own] innocence and in the generosity of [England],” despite being
advised by “all the Italians” to have six jurymen be of his own nationality.219 In other words,
even though defending himself against xenophobic Englishman got him indicted in the first
place, Baretti put his life in the hands of twelve of their countrymen to leave his “honour
unspotted.”220 The accused declared that, if convicted, he would “contrive to die as a brave
man, conscious of his innocence, should die.” The fact that Baretti would take such a chance
is a powerful testament to his sense of integrity, his trust in English institutions, and the
favorable impression left on him by his English peers.
The majority of foreign defendants did not exercise their right to a half-foreign
jury.221 French and Dutch people were most likely to choose this option, but even they did
so only occasionally.222 The arrangement, known formally as jury de medietate linguae, “of
half tongue,” was designed to accommodate defendants who did not speak English. 223
Contrary to Baretti and his Italian friends’ belief, the foreign jurymen did not have to be
from the accused’s home country, and their presence did not guarantee a sympathetic
219
Collison-Morley, 212.
Ibid.
221 John H. Langbein, “The English Criminal Trial Jury on the Eve of the French Revolution,” in Antonio
Padoa Schioppa, ed., The Trial Jury in England, France, Germany 1700-1900, (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot,
1987), 28; J.M. Beattie, Crime and the Courts in England 1660-1800 (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1986), 340 note 63.
222 Langbein, 28.
223 James C. Oldham, “The Origins of the Special Jury.” The University of Chicago Law Review, Vol. 50, No. 1
(Winter, 1983), 167.
220
57
hearing.224 A search in the Old Bailey Online proceedings database reveals twenty-five trials
involving half-foreign juries in the eighteenth century, twenty-one of which (eighty-four
percent) resulted in guilty verdicts.225 Since the proceedings do not always specify a
defendant’s nationality, it is impossible to know if, statistically, aliens fared better in front
of all-English juries. But the Baretti case suggests that adapting to an English audience was
an advantage. A language barrier diminished the court’s ability to empathize with or even
understand the accused’s perspective, which could explain the high conviction rate for
foreigners who relied on half-foreign juries. Although such defendants had some jurors
who understood them, they needed an interpreter to communicate with the six Britons on
the panel, which diminished the personal impact of their statements. By addressing his jury
in flawless English, Baretti communicated his side of the story without appearing too much
like a foreign Other, thereby enhancing his odds at acquittal.
Baretti’s most significant advantage was his army of esteemed character witnesses.
In the eighteenth century, courts looked to character testimony to determine whether the
accused was inclined to act in an unlawful manner; they evaluated cases both in terms of
the facts and according to broader considerations of status and prior behavior. 226 Most
character witnesses were the defendant’s personal contacts, and their credibility depended
on how long and how well they knew the accused.227 Courts viewed this testimony as
indispensible despite the obvious potential for a conflict of interest. Crime historian J.M.
Beattie explains that such evidence could be decisive in cases where the facts were unclear,
224
Oldham, 169-170.
For a list of the cases, see Appendix, 80.
226 Rusnak, 95.
227 Peter King, Crime, Justice, and Discretion in England, 1740-1820, (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press,
2000), 310
225
58
and sometimes outweighed factual issues altogether.228 According to Beattie, Britons were
not all considered equal before the law, and certain defendants could win acquittals by
proving their prestigious reputations.229 If Baretti and his attorneys did not convince the
jury on their own, then the testimony of Britain’s foremost artists and intellectuals surely
finished the job.
When he took the witness stand, Johnson called Baretti a “peaceable” man who
would never attack someone “without great provocation,” attesting to his friend’s
“diligence” as a scholar and “man of literature.” 230 Reynolds testified that Baretti was “a
man of great humanity,” commenting on his “sober disposition,” eagerness to help his
friends, and his standing as Secretary for Foreign Correspondence at the Royal Academy.
Burke called him “ingenious,” and Garrick said, “I never knew a man of more active
benevolence,” citing a time when Baretti cured Mrs. Garrick of an ailment after numerous
remedies failed.231 William Fitzherbert, Oliver Goldsmith, Topham Beauclerck, and Samuel
Hallifax offered similar praise. 232 More gentlemen were willing speak for Baretti, but
according to the published proceedings, “the court thought it needless to call them.” The
defendant had more than enough illustrious friends who proclaimed his innocence.
These celebrity witnesses benefitted Baretti in several ways. First, they implicitly
asked the jury how could two MPs, a first-class painter, a theatre mogul, and a literary giant
stake their reputations on a thug inclined to kill without cause? To strengthen this
argument, almost all of the men characterized Baretti as meek and nonthreatening, subtly
228
Rusnak, 99. Beattie, 439-441.
Rusnak, 98. Beattie, 440.
230 October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti.
231 Ibid.
232. Beauclerck (1739-1780) was a close friend of Johnson. Hallifax (1733-1790) was an Arabic professor
at Cambridge University, who went on to become the Bishop of Gloucester and then of St. Asaph.
229
59
appropriating the trope of foreign effeminacy to his advantage. Reynolds asserted, “I never
knew him to be quarrelsome in my life,” while Johnson commented on Baretti’s poor
eyesight and went so far as to call him “rather timorous.”233 These men must have known
they were stretching the truth about Baretti’s disposition, for although the Italian did not
have a violent history, anyone acquainted with him had experienced his temper and
argumentativeness (see Chapter One).234 Even Baretti acknowledged this about himself.
Ironically, decades before the trial, he said, “I am frank of speech and tell the truth quite
bluntly. Imagine how I should fare at a court!”235 At the Old Bailey Baretti and the defense
witnesses were careful to conceal this element of his personality, which could have
undermined the narrative of the timid scholar being assaulted by ruffians. Even Goldsmith,
who once called Baretti an “insolent, overbearing foreigner,” testified that the defendant
was “a most humain [sic], benevolent, peaceable man.”236 Baretti did not want to appear
like a hot-tempered Italian who turned violent at the Haymarket; his character witnesses
made sure to mitigate this possibility by making him appear as unintimidating as possible.
Feminine, faint-hearted foreignness may have been a trope of British caricature, but for an
alien defendant accused of murder, appearing weak and effeminate could not have been
more advantageous. The defense was willing to massage the truth to ensure that this
narrative carried the day.
Why did the literati do all of this for Baretti? By testifying on his behalf, Burke,
Johnson, Reynolds and the rest risked being branded as friends of a murderer in the event
233
October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti.
Liebert, a Johnsonian scholar, made the same observation. See A Constellation of Genius, 18.
235 Collison-Morley, 41.
236 Ibid, 193; October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti.
234
60
of a conviction. Primary sources do not offer a clear answer, but a conversation between
Johnson and Boswell on the eve of the trial is worth examining.
Why, there’s Baretti [said Johnson], who is to be tried for his life to-morrow, friends
have risen up for him on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of them will eat
a slice of plumb-pudding the less. Sir, that sympathetick [sic] feeling goes a very
little way in depressing the mind.
I [Boswell] told him [Johnson] that I had dined lately at Foote’s, who shewed me a
letter which he had received from Tom Davies,237 telling him that he had not been
able to sleep from the concern which he felt on account of ‘This sad affair of Baretti,’
begging of him to try if he could suggest any thing that might be of service; and, at
the same time, recommending to him an industrious young man who kept a pickleshop.
Johnson[:] ‘Ay, Sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy; a friend hanged,
and a cucumber pickled. We know not whether Baretti or the pickle-man has kept
Davies from sleep; nor does he know himself. And as to his not sleeping, Sir; Tom
Davies is a very great man; Tom has been upon the stage, and knows how to do
those things: I have not been upon the stage, and cannot do those things.’
Boswell [:] ‘I have often blamed myself, Sir, for not feeling for others as sensibly as
many say they do.’
Johnson [:] ‘Sir, don’t be duped by them any more. You will find these very feeling
people are not very ready to do you good. They pay you by feeling.’ 238
Boswell may have felt less sympathy for Baretti since he never liked him, but Johnson’s
attitude is striking. Assuming he was not trying to conceal his emotions from Boswell,
Johnson displayed astounding stoicism in the face of his “friend,” Baretti’s predicament.
Indeed, before he began discussing the futility of “human sympathy,” Johnson said that he
and Baretti’s other allies would not care if Baretti were executed. It is difficult to imagine
how genuine friends could feel apathetic such a dire circumstance. Possibly, however,
Johnson and the literati defended Baretti not out of friendship, but out of a sense of
237
Davies was a bookseller who published several of Baretti’s works. Before entering this profession, he
tried his hand at acting at the Haymarket Theatre, portraying Young Wilmot in a 1736 performance of The
Fatal Curiosity. See Norman Moore, “Davies, Thomas,” in Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Vol. 15, 412.
238 Boswell, Vol. 2, 94-95; Collison-Morley, 213-214.
61
professional obligation to one’s colleague. For all of his faults, Baretti was a member of the
Johnsonian circle, and, perhaps, his associates could not bear to let one of their own die
without raising a finger in his defense. In other words, the literati’s actions on Baretti’s
behalf can be interpreted as a manifestation of group loyalty. Testifying that Baretti was
one of them was the best way they could help him.
Like the Public Advertiser and the Lover of Order’s letter to the London Chronicle, the
defense portrayed Baretti as one of many gentlemen who was assaulted by pimps and
prostitutes on the street. “It is impossible to walk up the Haymarket in the evening,” said
French textbook author Jean Baptiste Perrin, “You will meet with women the most
indecent, the most abandoned wretches, that I ever saw, and they have often men following
them.”239 Army Major Alderton and Justice Of The Peace Kelynge offered similar testimony,
the latter claiming that two men attacked him after a woman “endeavoured to put her hand
into [his] breeches.” This testimony came just before the intelligentsia’s account of Baretti
as a gentleman of letters. Reynolds and Johnson noted that Baretti did not abuse alcohol or
partake in prostitution, subtly juxtaposing his moderation with the habits of the assailants,
all of whom consumed beer before the fight.240 In short, the defense elevated Baretti as the
intellectual, moral, and social superior of his antagonists. He was not a stiletto-wielding
Italian, but rather a member of the London literati who defended himself against
delinquents in a crime-ridden area.
The defense’s class-based dichotomy may have resonated with the jurors, who were
high on the socioeconomic ladder themselves. The property prerequisites for jury service
239
October 1769, trial of Joseph Baretti.
Ibid. Patman admitted that he, Morgan and Clark “drank three pints of beer together” shortly before
they encountered Baretti. See also Rusnak, 100.
240
62
mandated that each juror have a minimum income of ten pounds per annum, or hold a fiftypound annual lease, thereby excluding seventy-five percent of adult males from
participation. A variety of other groups, such as women, seamen, coroners, jailors, and less
affluent freeholders were also ineligible.241 Hence, a 1769 jury was an exclusive entity,
likely consisting of upper-middle-class professionals, craftsmen, merchants, or
storeowners.242 Though the average juror was not at the apex of British society, he was
almost certainly more affluent than Baretti’s enemies on the street. The defense team must
have known this. Implicitly, they asked the jurymen to imagine themselves in Baretti’s
shoes, as gentlemen facing the unwashed bullies of Haymarket, armed only with a fruit
knife. This classist framing of the event recast Baretti as a victim rather than the accused. 243
241 Douglas Hay, “The Class Composition of the Palladium of Liberty: Trial Jurors in the Eighteenth
Century,” in J.S. Cockburn and Thomas A. Green, eds., 12 Good Men and True: The Criminal Trial Jury in
England, 1200-1900, (Princeton: Princeton University Press) 310; 312. The leaseholder provision – passed in
1731 – applied to Middlesex only, since the county required a larger jury pool to accommodate the district’s
numerous trials.
242 Emsley et al., "Crime and Justice - Judges and Juries," Old Bailey Proceedings Online
(www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 30 July 2012).
243 Though the defense was effective in court, note that Baretti’s narrative has been questioned in
hindsight. In his dissertation on the trial, Rusnak asserts that no eyewitnesses confirmed that a hostile crowd
surrounded Baretti at the Haymarket; only Morgan, Patman, Clark, Ward and the unknown prostitute’s
presence were verified (75; 90). Since none of his assailants were armed, Rusnak wonders whether Baretti’s
life was actually in danger (103). Rusnak suggests that Baretti, who took great pride in his mastery of the
English language, would have loathed to be identified as a foreigner by a Haymarket streetwalker,
particularly given that she groped him and associated him with a sexualized stereotype that British
intellectuals mocked frequently. The arrival of three working-class Englishmen accusing him of mistreating a
lady exacerbated the situation (59). In Rusnak’s view, this combination of indignities may have driven Baretti
into a violent rage.
Rusnak rebukes a century of historiography that took Baretti’s side without question. He is the first
to examine the defense with a critical eye, and take Evan Morgan’s perspective seriously. However, Rusnak
overcorrects by neglecting the eyewitness who did confirm that a crowd of people chased Baretti through
Haymarket. According to Ann Thomas, a cook’s wife who was visiting London from the country, there might
have been “eight, or ten, or a dozen” people pursing Baretti, not just the three confirmed assailants (October
1769, trial of Joseph Baretti). Even though Baretti was the only one with a knife, the aging, farsighted man
would have had reason to fear a group of that size. Moreover, although Baretti could be belligerent in
conversation and in his writings, there is a difference between verbal aggression and a murder. Rusnak stakes
too much on the notion that Baretti would kill because someone taunted him. This is not to say that the
evidence exonerates Baretti, but rather that the event is too murky to justify Rusnak’s speculation.
63
The prosecution failed to refute Baretti’s story. The solicitors ran into trouble early
in the trial when their witnesses failed to present a convincing account of the brawl.
Morgan, being dead, could not describe the way he suffered at Baretti’s hands. Patman and
Clark claimed Baretti was not subjected to xenophobic insults or physical abuse, but had
little aside from their word to dispute the defense’s evidence. Three men attested to the
wounds on Baretti’s face, shoulder, side, and back, including a constable who had no
affiliation with him.244 Moreover, since the defense counsel convinced Ward to admit to
hearing a slur, and demonstrated that Clark had contradicted his own testimony before the
trial, Clark and Patman’s assertions were much less credible. Finally, the prosecution was
hopelessly outmatched in terms of oratorical skill. Whereas the prosecutors relied on a
whigmaker and a lapidary to make their case and stand up to cross-examination, the
defense had scholars, statesmen, and a renowned thespian to persuade the jury.
The prosecution also could not refute the defense’s image of feeble, scholarly Baretti
being assaulted by hoodlums. British law forbid prosecutors from challenging the defense’s
character evidence, so the solicitors could not cross-examine Johnson, Burke or any of the
other luminaries who testified on Baretti’s behalf.245 The most powerful element of
Baretti’s case went unchallenged. In addition, no prosecution witness prepared a statement
comparable to Baretti’s carefully crafted account of the Haymarket Affair, and the structure
of the proceedings gave the defense the last word. Baretti’s speech, witnesses describing
his wounds, Kelynge and company’s account of Haymarket conditions, and the character
witnesses all came one after another during the trial’s conclusion. The jury was left with a
244
245
Emsley et al., "Crime and Justice - Judges and Juries."
Emsley et al., “Crime and Justice – Trial Procedures.”
64
stirring narrative of Baretti’s victimization without reply from the prosecution. They
moved to acquit after only brief deliberation.
The defense won immediate, broad acclaim both in and outside of the Old Bailey.
According to Baretti, “the audience was so perfectly satisfied of my innocence, that the
verdict was echoed with a general shout of approbation.” 246 Lloyd’s Evening Post reported
that the courtroom was in tears, including the judge, who “gave the strongest testimony of
the goodness of his heart, by the visible impression so pathetic a narrative made on it.” 247
The majority of the press embraced the defense’s story as well. The Annual Register
declared Baretti “unblameable,” the testimony of his allies “undeniable,” and the acquittal a
testament to “the honour of the country.”248 Similarly, the London Chronicle complimented
the “force” of Baretti’s speech to the jury, noting that the defendant’s character “was . . .
attested by several Gentlemen, with whose names the world is very well acquainted.”249
Writers from the Gazetteer, Independent Chronicle, Gentleman’s Magazine, and the
Middlesex Journal joined the chorus of praise for the acquittal, perpetuating the pre-trial
coverage’s sympathy for Baretti.250
In the weeks after the trial, however, a smaller group of observers criticized
Baretti’s acquittal, writing letters to publications that endorsed it previously. In the
Gazetteer, someone claiming to be on Baretti’s grand jury asserted that, “it was the opinion
246
Collison-Morley, 221.
Lloyd’s Evening Post (London, England), October 23, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D, 417.
248 The Annual Register, or a View of the History, Politics and Literature, for the Year 1769: The Third Edition
(London, England), “Chronicle,” 143, 1779, http://find.galegroup.com
249 London Chronicle, October 19, 1769.
250 Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser (London, England), October 23, 1769, http://find.galegroup.com;
Independent Chronicle or Freeholder’s Evening Post, (London, England), October 18, 1769, quoted in Rusnak,
Appendix D-413; Lloyd’s Evening Post, (London, England), October 18, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D,
404; Gentleman’s Magazine, (London, England), October, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D, 403; Middlesex
Journal, October 19, 1769.
247
65
of every gentleman present, from the evidence then given . . . that he deserved to be
hanged.”251 A Middlesex Journal correspondent asked sarcastically whether Baretti’s knife
had been “deposited among the pistols, and other deadly weapons and instruments of
highwaymen and robbers, lest his timidity should prompt him to use it as he has done; or if
he yet preserves it for the gentler purpose of paring fruit?”252 Two letters to the Whitehall
Evening Post critiqued the defense’s legal argument in depth. The first, adopting the
mythological pseudonym “Nestor,” turned Baretti’s assimilation and scholarly credentials
against him. Nestor contended,
Mr. Baretti has been a great many years in England; and being too a man of letters,
he must be so well acquainted with the customs of the people, and their temper and
disposition, that no apology can be found for his carrying such a weapon about him:
that foreigners usually do is no reason in England; it rather indicates the dark
designs of a man of that country, who is suspicious of his fellow creatures . . . an
Englishman, of whose feelings we seldom hear anything said at the Old Bailey, or in
the News-papers, even some of the third regiment, would have shudder’s at the
thoughts of such an assassination.253
In short, English customs should prevail in English courts. Baretti should have known
better than to carry a knife in England, Nestor argued, suggesting that the defendant may
have acted based on nefarious Italian ‘suspicions’ of others. Nestor also juxtaposed Italian
temper with English restraint; “Baretti stabb’d Patman without any provocation . . . If an
Englishman had been jostled willfully, he would only have remonstrated with the insulter,
or passed on without noticing it all.”254 Though he acknowledged not knowing what
“violence” induced Baretti to slay Morgan, Nestor insisted that the defendant was lucky to
251
Gazeteer and New Daily Advertiser (London, England), November 15, 1769, quoted in Rusnak,
Appendix D, 418.
252 Middlesex Journal (London, England), Tuesday, November 28, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D,
430.
253 Nestor, “To the Printer of the Whitehall Evening Post,” Whitehall Evening Post or London Intelligencer,
(London, England), November 2, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D, 440.
254 Ibid.
66
be acquitted, and that the literati’s affirmation of “Mr. Baretti’s benevolence” should not
have been decisive. He cited two other cases in which defendants were not so fortunate:
one in which a foreign intellectual killed a surgeon, and another involving a woman who
stabbed someone to death in Chancery lane. 255 Referring to the latter, Nestor said “[she]
had more provocation than Mr. Baretti had for stabbing Patman . . . for which, without any
regard to her feelings, she was executed.” Nestor hoped that Baretti’s luck would not make
other foreigners “more daring.”256
Two days after Nestor’s letter, “A Crown Lawyer” published a similar critique.257
Like Nestor, the lawyer argued that character evidence should not have exonerated Baretti
for “wounding one man, and the [sic] stabbing another three times, after he had wounded
the first man.” To suggest otherwise would give the educated an unfair advantage. In his
words,
. . . in ancient times of ignorance and superstition, the learned, and learned only,
were totally exempt from capital punishment; but in more enlightened ages,
learning hath been very justly thought to condemn, rather than to acquit the culprit.
Character is “a very proper defence” in “doubtful cases, or where there is evidence of the
charge against the prisoner is circumstantial only [sic],” the lawyer contended, not in
circumstances when the defendant – be he learned or not – admitted to being violent.
Indeed, educated people should be held to a higher standard given their greater knowledge
and reason. The attorney also dismissed foreign customs regarding knives as a “ridiculous”
255
It is likely that Nestor alluded to these cases: Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org,
version 7.0, 26 February 2014), September 1760, trial of Francis David Stirn (t17600910-19); Old Bailey
Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 26 February 2014), December 1768, trial of
Elizabeth Richardson, otherwise Forrister (t17681207-19).
256 Nestor, “To the Printer of the Whitehall Evening Post.”
257 “A Crown Lawyer.” “Judicial Remarks on the Trial of JOSEPH BARETTI, for the supposed
wilful [sic] murder of EVAN MORGAN, by stabbing him three several times in the body with a knife.”
Whitehall Evening Post or London Intelligencer, November 4, 1769, quoted in Rusnak, Appendix D, 443. The
article appeared also in the Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, November 6, 1769. http://find.galegroup.com.
67
excuse for “stabbing an Englishman in London,” and claimed Baretti chose an all-English
jury for (unspecified) self-interested reasons. Letters such as the Crown Lawyer’s and
Nestor’s proved that the press’s partiality to Baretti did not necessarily reflect the opinions
of readers.
One of Baretti’s sympathizers found the critics threatening enough that he published
a reply in the Gazetteer. The anonymous writer accused Baretti’s detractors of
“[prejudicing] the public mind against the learned person, because he is a foreigner,”
arguing that one should not question an “honourable acquittal.” 258 Moreover, in his
conclusion, he expressed a desire to control the narrative of the case.
When we see the public prints made the instruments of compassion and mercy
(which, in a signal [sic] instance, the Gazetteer has very lately been) detraction itself
must confess the utility of these publications; but when, by being open to all parties,
they happen to become the vehicles of willfully unjust accusation, the liberty of the
press sinks, unavoidably, into downright licentiousness.
The author established a dichotomy between “learned” Baretti’s allies’ “compassion and
mercy” with the libelous designs of his enemies. The phrase “open to all parties” has
classist undertones, implying that if the printed page is accessible to everyone, including
the ‘unlearned,’ it will degenerate into a mouthpiece for xenophobes. It is unclear who the
author was – he signed his piece with a “D” – but it is obvious he hoped to silence Baretti’s
critics. Whereas in court the defense had a monopoly on articulate advocacy, in the wider
context of the media dissent could not be quashed so easily.
Despite Nestor and the Crown Lawyer’s critiques, Baretti emerged from his ordeal
largely unscathed. He and the defense persuaded the jury despite obstacles such as the
Stabbing Act, and won the support of most observers in the press. Just as Baretti
258
Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, (London, England), Tuesday, November 14, 1769.
http://find.galegroup.com.
68
established himself in London by drawing selectively from his Italian background, he won
in court by emphasizing his fear of xenophobes, trust in English impartiality, and his
standing in the British intelligentsia. The character witnesses bolstered Baretti’s narrative
with their sparkling reputations. Following Justice Kelynge, Major Alderton, and Mr.
Perrin’s descriptions of pimps and prostitutes in the Haymarket, these luminaries
portrayed the defendant as a timid, effete scholar rather than a “French bugger,” shifting
the charge of sexual deviance to Baretti’s assailants. Thus, through the careful manipulation
of stereotypes, the defense washed the blood from the accused’s hands.
The victory strengthened Baretti’s already significant ties to England. As he put it
after the trial, “those I had about me did their part so well that they have made me an
Englishman forever.”259 The celebrated acquittal gave Baretti more fame than ever before,
and within a year he capitalized on that attention, publishing an edited, English-language
version of Lettere familiari, entitled, A Journey from London To Genoa: through England,
Portugal, Spain, and France (1770).260 The work was a commercial and critical success,
earning its author 500 pounds.261262 A passage in Journey alluded heavily to the author’s
recent trial. Baretti attacked the sort of Englishmen he encountered at the Haymarket,
claiming the “London rabble” abused foreigners “without the least provocation,” and that
he was called a “French dog” more frequently in the British capital than in any other
259
O’Connor, 801; Collison-Morley, 222.
O’Connor 801; Collison-Morley, 225.
261 Collison-Morley, 225. Hester Thrale wrote to Johnson that, “Mr. Baretti’s book shows that he has been
employed among more entertaining papers: ‘tis a most pleasing performance, and meets with eager readers
in or house.” Johnson replied, “That Baretti’s book would please you all I have no doubt. I know not whether
the world has ever seen such travels before. Those whose lot it is to ramble can seldom write, and those who
know how to write very seldom ramble.”
262 Quoted in ibid, 225-226.
260
69
European city.263 By criticizing the English crowd and commenting on other countries,
Baretti departed radically from his disavowal of travel literature in An Account of the
Manners and Customs of Italy. 264 Perhaps emboldened by his triumph in court, Baretti
stepped out of his role as an Italian expert, declaring himself an authority on every country
he visited, England included.
In addition, Baretti’s Journey acknowledged his esteemed patrons. Baretti dedicated
the work to Reynolds, as President of the Royal Academy, along with all of the other
Academicians. After praising the organization as the greatest artistic society he had
encountered during his travels, Baretti declared,
Instead of attempting to express my gratitude to that royal goodness, which has
deigned to connect me with so respectable a society, I will revere and love it in
silence, and endeavor to show that I deserve what it has bestowed, by a vigorous
exertion of my abilities whenever occasion shall call them into your service. 265
Baretti also thanked his “most revered friend,” Johnson, who inspired him to write the
work, and “pointed out the topics which would most interest and most delight in a future
publication.”266 Without mentioning the trial, Baretti made it clear that he would not be
where he was without help from high places.
263 Giuseppe Baretti, A Journey from London to Genoa, through England, Portugal, Spain, and France, Vol. 1
(London : printed for T. Davies, in Russel-Street, Covent-Garden; and L. Davis, in Holborn, 1770), 62.
264 See Chapter One, 23.
265 Baretti, A Journey from London to Genoa, Vol. 1, iii-iv.
266 Ibid, vi.
70
Chapter IV
“Italian Assassin:” The Fall of Baretti
Unfortunately for Baretti, the standing he earned in the 1750s and 60s did not last.
As historian Donald Gallup puts it, “From 1770 on, Baretti . . . rested too much upon the
oars, trusting to the current of his reputation to carry him on.”267 The scholar did have
considerable wind behind him going into the decade. Not only had he published a popular
travel account in 1769, but also Baretti was flush from triumph in arguably the most
celebrated trial of the century, a victory that culminated with illustrious British artists,
intellectuals, and politicians praising his character. Baretti’s successes made his subsequent
fall all the more dramatic. This chapter will illustrate how, in the eyes of the public and his
acquaintances, an esteemed “man of literature” became an “Italian assassin.”
The scholar’s productivity declined after A Journey from London to Genoa, and none
of his later works matched the Italian-English dictionary or An Account of the Manners and
Customs of Italy. Critics panned his Introduction to the Most Useful European Languages
(1772), and one went so far as to claim, “[Baretti] is a man not thoroughly acquainted with
the genius of the language in which he pretends to write.”268 Even Baretti acknowledged
the work’s failings, dismissing it as “one of those many books of bullshit that I am obliged to
write for so much money, in a rush and not giving a damn.”269 Between 1773 and 1776,
Baretti preoccupied himself with tutoring Hester Thrale’s daughter Hetty in Italian and
Spanish, which led him to publish only one book, Easy Phraseology for the Use of Young
267
Gallup, 372.
Rusnak, 304, quoting The London Magazine (April, 1772).
269 Ibid. Translation of a letter to Bicetti, May 5, 1777 (Epistolario, Vol. 2, 207-210).
268
71
Ladies (1775).270 He worked even less during and after the American Revolution, and most
of what he did produce – such as Discours sur Shakespeare et Sur Monsieur Voltaire (1777)
and Tolondron (1786) – was commercially and critically unsuccessful.271 The exception was
an acclaimed Spanish-English dictionary (1778), but even that failed to sustain the
notoriety its author enjoyed in previous decades. 272 Baretti also had difficulty selling his
works, since Britain’s struggle with the colonies raised taxes, increased the price of goods,
and created an unfavorable market for publishers and booksellers. 273 The scholar struggled
to “[keep his] head above water” financially until a well-connected friend, the timbermerchant John Cator, helped him secure an eighty-pound annual stipend from the British
government in 1782.274
A growing reputation for insolence dealt the deadliest blow to Baretti’s status.
Shortly after the aquittal, he began to alienate business associates and friends. For instance,
in 1773 Baretti made enemies with his publisher, Thomas Davies, after the two argued
about a translated edition of Don Quixote.275 Secondary sources suggest that Davies may
have been loaning Baretti ten pounds per month to complete the work, but Baretti failed to
do so, leading Johnson to speculate that the dispute was “irreconcilable.”276 During the next
several years Baretti eroded his friendship with Hester Thrale, a longtime companion. He
lived at the Thrale estate while tutoring Hetty, and in 1775 the family took him and Johnson
270
Gallup, 372; O’Connor, 801.
Gallup, 373.
272 O’Connor 801.
273 Collison-Morley, 312.
274 Ibid; O’Connor, 801. Baretti met Cator through the Thrales. Cator convinced his friend Lord
Hawkesbury, the President of the Board of Trade and confidant to King George III, to obtain a pension for
Baretti. See Collison-Morley, 313-314, 329.
275 This was the same Davies who Boswell said was terribly concerned about Baretti before the trial.
276 Collison-Morley, 274; Gallup, 370; Rusnak, 304.
271
72
to France. During his time in the household, Baretti became critical of Mrs. Thrale as a
mother, claiming that she “did nothing but scold or beat [her children] for the most trivial
faults or omissions.”277 On numerous occasions Baretti disparaged his hostess in front of
the family. As he explained in a letter to his brothers, “I live with him [Thrale’s husband
Henry] like a brother, and scold his wife before his face when I think it necessary, for I
regard her more in light of a daughter.”278 Mrs. Thrale tired quickly of this treatment,
particularly since Baretti encouraged her children and servants to disrespect her
authority.279
The quarrel reached a point of no return after the Thrales’ son, Harry, died in March
1775. His passing shocked the family just before they were about to visit Italy with Baretti.
Cancelling the trip, Hester Thrale, Baretti, and Hetty went to Bath to grieve. There Mrs.
Thrale showed Baretti a letter in which the family doctor admonished her for giving Hetty
“dangerous” tin pills. Thrale laughed and dismissed the letter, expecting Baretti – who had
a history of mocking physicians – to join in. But Baretti was extremely protective of Hetty.
Lacking any children of his own, Baretti imagined Hetty as more than a pupil, calling her
“my Esteruccia” and professing to love her “seven thousand times more than [he] ever
loved any one else.” 280 The thought of Thrale medicating Hetty against the doctor’s orders
enraged Baretti, and he declared that Thrale’s carelessness could cause the girl to die like
her brother.281 Thrale was understandably furious, and their relationship never recovered.
277
Collison-Morley, 269.
Ibid, 294.
279 Ibid, 296. According to Thrale, “Not a servant, not a child, did he leave me any authority over; if I would
attempt to correct or dismiss them, there was an instant appeal to Mr. Baretti, who was sure always to be
against me in every dispute.”
280 Ibid, 289.
281 Ibid, 292.
278
73
It took another year of bickering, but finally, in the summer of 1776, Baretti left the Thrale
household for good.282
In addition to antagonizing Davies and Thrale, Baretti inspired derision from some
of his staunchest defenders at the Old Bailey. Thrale’s diary includes an account of a terse
exchange between Baretti and Burke at her home:
Will. Burke was tart upon Mr. Baretti for being too dogmatical in his talk about
politics. ‘You have,’ says he, ‘no business to be investigating the characters of Lord
Falkland or Mr. Hampden. You cannot judge of their merits, they are no countrymen
of yours.’ ‘True,’ replied Baretti, ‘and you should learn by the same rule to speak
very cautiously about Brutus and Mark Antony; they are my countrymen, and I must
have their characters tenderly treated by foreigners.’ 283
Here Baretti’s demi-Englishness was on full display. Despite the scholar’s unprecedented
access into London intellectual circles, in Burke’s eyes his status as a foreigner disqualified
him from having an opinion on English politics. Burke was an interesting man to bring this
charge against Baretti, since not only was he a Member of Parliament, but also he was from
Ireland, which was subordinate to but distinct from Britain.284 Like Baretti, Burke came to
England from a Catholic country; to take English office he had to swear allegiance to the
British Crown and the Anglican Church, renounce the Pope’s authority, and sign a
declaration repudiating transubstantiation.285 But while an Irishman was close enough to
pass as a full Englishman, an Italian could not, at least not in Burke’s eyes.286 Baretti’s
unrepentant retort about Antony and Brutus probably exacerbated his transgression.
282
Collison-Morley, 298.
Piozzi (Thrale), Vol. 1, 93. Thrale does not include the year when this conversation occurred, though
the anecdote appears amongst her other stories from the 1770s.
284 Thomas H.D. Mahoney, Edmund Burke and Ireland, (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1960), 12.
Ireland and Great Britain did not unite until the Act of Union in 1801.
285 J.C.D. Clark, “Introduction,” in J.C.D. Clark, ed., Edmund Burke: Reflections on the Revolution in France: A
Critical Edition, (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001), 26.
286 Ibid, 25.
283
74
In 1771, two years after he defended Baretti in court, Reynolds wrote an
unpublished parody of Baretti’s Journey from London to Genoa, entitled, A Journey from
London to Brentford. Adopting the pseudonym “Rinaldo,” Reynolds mocked Baretti’s hubris
and thin skin. “Many people are of the opinion that I might as well have wrote my Travels
in my Study as going to Spain for that purpose,” Rinaldo wrote, “which is a malicious
insinuation and an absolute falsehood . . . Upon the whole I have made such a spot of work
as I believe the world never saw before. . . . ” 287 Rinaldo satirized Baretti’s propensity for
exaggeration, calling a carriage “a huge Machine near as big as a house,” and the village of
Turnham Green “a second Elysium, beautifully and thickly inhabited by poultry and swine
as well as men.” 288 Turnham Green was considered a bleak place in the eighteenth century;
Reynolds appropriated Baretti’s own line about poultry and swine from a description of the
Spanish countryside in A Journey from London to Genoa. 289 Finally, Rinaldo’s account of
being removed forcibly from a tavern alluded to Baretti’s description of the Haymarket
Affair.
. . . a person (whom I head somebody call the Captain) came up to me, put his arm
under mine and without speaking a word led me to the door. When we arrived at
the stair head, (which is without the door) I was going to turn about to thank him for
the friendly office he did me in conducting me safe from that infernal crewe, but he
prevented me from making any acknowledgments by clapping both hands upon my
two shoulders and with a vigorous exertion of his foot against my posteriors push’d
me forward with all his might. I made but one step to the bottom, however, I
disappointed the brute for I pitch’d on my legs with a dexterity I will venture to say
that would have done honour to a Cat. It was lucky I was not hurt, I wonder how I
escaped.290
287 Derek Marsh published Reynolds’ parody in Sir Joshua Reynolds: A Personal Study, (London, UK:
Geoffrey Bles, 1958), 239-247. This quotation appears on page 240. For further commentary, see Rusnak,
317-321.
288 Reynolds quoted in Marsh, 241; 244.
289 Ibid, 116. See Baretti, A Journey from London to Genoa, Vol. 4, 94.
290 Ibid, 115; 243-244.
75
All of this came from the pen of someone who testified to Baretti’s “great humanity.”
Reynolds wrote other satires about people he knew, such as a two dialogues that poked fun
at Johnson’s distinctive, abrasive manner in conversation, but A Journey from London to
Bretford was uniquely mocking and derisive toward its target.291 As Reynolds scholar
Derek Marsh puts it, the parody reveals “a lively impression of a more mischievous
Reynolds than we have known.”292 By lampooning Baretti as ignorant, unreliable, and
hyperbolic, the painter challenged Baretti as a cultural commentator, undermining the
niche that propelled Baretti into the intelligentsia in the first place. The artist may not have
been as close to Baretti as he appeared at the Old Bailey, or when Baretti dedicated his
Journey to Reynolds, a fact that makes the latter’s parody all the more devastating. Rather
than an innocent scholar, Reynolds characterized Baretti as a self-important oaf behind his
back, even though the two men continued to associate.293
Johnson thought he understood Baretti’s misbehavior and, for a time, he evaluated
Baretti with paternalistic pity. Writing in response to Thrale’s complaints about Baretti’s
rudeness at her home in 1775, Johnson said,
I wish, for my part, that he [Mr. Thrale] may return soon, and rescue the fair
captives from the tyranny of Baretti. Poor Baretti! Do not quarrel with him, to
neglect him a little will be sufficient. He means only to be frank, and manly, and
independent, and perhaps, as you say, a little wise. To be frank he thinks is to be
cynical, and to be independent, is to be rude. Forgive him, dearest Lady, the rather,
because of his misbehavior, I am afraid, he learned part of me. I hope to set him
hereafter a better example.294
291
Joshua Reynolds, “Johnson against Garrick,” in Frederick W. Hilles, ed., Portraits by Sir Joshua Reynolds:
Character Sketches of Oliver Goldsmith, Samuel Johnson, and David Garrick, together with other manuscripts of
Reynolds discovered among the Boswell Papers and now first published, (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1952), 105107; Reynolds, “T’Other Side,” in Ibid, 108-119.
292 Marsh, 117-118.
293 Rusnak, 321. Reynolds painted Baretti’s portrait in 1773, after he had written the parody.
294 Samuel Johnson, Letter to Hester Thrale, July 15, 1775, in R.W. Chapman, ed., The Letters of Samuel
Johnson, with Mrs. Thrale’s Genuine Letters to Him, Vol. 2, (Oxford, UK: Clarendon Press, 1952), 67.
76
Johnson did more to patronize Baretti than serve as his defense witness or connect him
with the London intelligentsia; he saw himself as a model for Baretti to emulate. Since
Johnson’s status enabled him to get away with being brusque, he felt guilty for encouraging
Baretti to behave similarly, knowing that such behavior got Baretti into trouble. Johnson’s
sense of responsibility for Baretti gave him a higher tolerance for the latter’s indiscretions
than Thrale had, but even he refused to put up with Baretti indefinitely. According to
Reynolds’ sister Mary,
I believe there never subsisted any cordial Friendship between Dr. Johnson and
Baretti after their journey to Paris; and what perhaps intirely [sic] extinguished it,
was a most mendacious falsehood that he [Baretti] told Johnson of his having beaten
Omai at Chess . . . .295
Omai was a Pacific Islander who travelled to England with Captain James Cook; he and
Baretti played chess at Joshua Reynolds’ home. Mary Reynolds said Johnson challenged
Baretti’s lie, Baretti held his ground, and then Johnson stood up from his chair and
bellowed, “I’ll hear no more,” causing Baretti to flee in terror.296 Baretti had a different
version of events, claiming that Johnson teased him about losing to “the savage,”
whereupon Baretti “quitted him in a most choleric mood.”297 The two men did not see each
other again before Johnson passed away in 1784. This loss, combined with Garrick’s death
in 1779, left Baretti with far fewer allies than he had at the Old Bailey. Even Baretti’s
brothers stopped writing him, due in part to his refusal to pay back the loans they gave him
over the years.298
295 Collison-Morley, 332; Mary Reynolds, “Recollections of Dr. Johnson,” in George Birkbeck Hill, ed.,
Johnsonian Miscellanies, Vol. 2, (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1966), 292-293.
296 Collison-Morley, 332; Mary Reynolds, 292-293.
297 Collison-Morley, 332.
298 Ibid, 303; 324-325.
77
Baretti’s fall from grace is as remarkable as it is startling. Though the intelligentsia
always knew of Baretti’s temperamental ways, they staked their reputations on his
“peaceable” nature in court, only to turn away from him shortly thereafter. What
happened? The simple but plausible explanation is that everyone’s patience has limits.
Given Baretti’s propensity for rude, unpredictable outbursts, one wonders how he earned
the loyalty of so many luminaries to begin with. Johnson, Reynolds, and Burke may have
felt honor-bound to defend their colleague when his life was on the line, but years of his
arrogance and indiscretions proved intolerable.
In addition, there is evidence to suggest Baretti’s rudeness and declining literary
reputation compounded each other during his later years. Even at the height of his career,
the scholar stood in the shadow of the luminaries who defended him in court. After he
stopped producing acclaimed treatises on Italian language and culture, Baretti occupied
himself with less glamorous tasks in the Thrale household, which may have exacerbated his
insecurities. Hester Thrale’s account of the family trip to France is particularly illuminating:
France displayed all Mr. Baretti’s useful powers – he bustled for us, he catered for
us, he took care of the child, he secured an apartment for the maid, he provided for
our safety, our amusement, our repose; without him the pleasure of that journey
would never have balanced the pain. 299
Baretti became a glorified butler! So much for the scholar who wrote volumes read by the
king.300 Baretti’s brothers said something to this effect after learning about the Thrales’
plan to take him to Italy, and he became defensive.
A very rich gentleman [Mr. Thrale] has asked me to go with him on a long journey
and not to desert one of his daughters, whose education was entrusted to my care
about three years ago. Who could ever have imagined that, instead of being pleased
at this news, you would all three be most indignant at it, as if I were going with him
299
300
Piozzi (Thrale), Vol. 1, 94.
See Chapter One, 21.
78
not as a companion, but as a hired servant in livery? How could you possibly
imagine that I should be so foolish as to allow myself to appear in my own country,
or in any other place, in a position unsuitable for one who has gained some
reputation in the world as a man of letters? How is it degrading for a man of letters
to permit himself to be chosen as a travelling companion by a man of wealth? Has
not this been the custom in the world since the days of Maecenas, who took Horace
with him on his travels? Johnson, who is looked upon as the most learned man in
England and has a pension of 300 [pounds] a year from his king, so far from being
ashamed, regards it as an honour to accompany Mr. Thrale in the very same way;
and am I to be so absurd as to regard as a disgrace what Johnson regards as an
honour? You poor Piedmontese have not yet learnt that literature makes a man of
letters the equal of a rich man, and gives him rank as his companion, not as his
servant. That I shall be Mr. Thrale’s companion, not his servant – nay, his intimate
and most familiar friend, you will see with your own eyes when we appear. 301
Baretti doth protest too much. In a subsequent letter he proclaimed himself “in command
of the party,” and instructed his brothers to prepare for the family’s arrival by acquiring
“fine mattresses and sheets,” along with “a quantity of silver plate and majolica plates – not
pewter, if you please!” 302 Baretti deluded himself into believing that he was on equal
footing with his patrons, promising to compensate his brothers with Mr. Thrale’s money. “I
am treasurer,” he declared, “I shall pay handsomely for everything.”303 The scholar’s appeal
to Johnson, the ancient practices of “men of letters,” and “Piedmontese” ignorance betrayed
a deep anxiety about his standing in London society and his masculinity. Baretti could not
bear admitting that financial insecurity forced him into unequal relationships with
wealthier, more established men, nor could he handle being subservient to their wives. Just
as he evaded questions about his salary (or lack thereof) at the Royal Academy, Baretti
used his transnational identity as a defense mechanism, claiming that in England, men of
letters and men of wealth were equals; his family was too Piedmontese to appreciate this.
But Baretti’s defense assumed all men of letters were comparable in status. Johnson did not
301
Letter from February 2, 1776, translated by Collison-Morley, 285-286.
Ibid, 287-288.
303 Ibid, 287.
302
79
have to wait on the Thrales; the trip made Baretti’s subordinate position abundantly clear.
Rudeness was Baretti’s only means of asserting his manliness and self-worth, and so he
exhausted the patience of the superiors he called friends.
The Haymarket Affair came back to haunt Baretti as he estranged the people around
him. The Old Bailey trial transcript had been published more widely than any of Baretti’s
literary works, offering ammunition to those who were skeptical of the defense. 304 It even
appeared in the pages of crime tabloids, such as The Tyburn Chronicle: or Villany Displayed
(London, 1769), The Annals of Newgate (London, 1776), and The Malefactor’s Register
(London, 1779).305 Typically, these publications discussed “the most notorious offenders
who have suffered death or other exemplary punishments,” not exonerated defendants.
This may explain why the editor of The Malefactor’s Register reminded his readers that
Baretti was acquitted, as if that would have been in doubt otherwise. 306 Other
commentators challenged the defense directly. In the March 1775 London Review of English
and Foreign Literature, a writer scoffed at the narrative of Baretti, the “innocent
philosopher,” asserting that he was clearly a “guilty assassin.”307 Gentleman’s Magazine,
which supported Baretti in 1769, published two letters condemning him in 1785. One, by
“Querist,” dismissed Johnson’s character testimony as a rationale for Baretti’s acquittal, and
the other, signed “Anti-Janus,” accused Baretti of being two-faced in his statements about
Britain.308 The latter charge rested on a discrepancy between Baretti’s Lettere familiari and
A Journey from London to Genoa, the English version. Anti-Janus realized that Journey
304
Rusnak, 309.
Ibid, 310.
306 Ibid.
307 London Review of English and Foreign Literature (London, England), March 1775, quoted in Rusnak,
Appendix D, 453.
308 Gentleman’s Magazine, July and August, 1785.
305
80
omitted a letter describing squalor and prostitution in London, leading him to claim,
“[Baretti] has represented England, and London in particular, not as it really is, or then was,
but as he wished it to be.”309 Anti-Janus added derisively, that it was in London where
Baretti “stabbed a man to death and, where he was tried and acquitted of murder,”
challenging the scholar to translate Lettere familiari fully and “give his real opinion of
England.” The critic turned Baretti’s greatest assets – linguistic and cross-cultural
knowledge – into signs of duplicity.310 Baretti believed Reverend John Bowle, an enemy of
his, was responsible for the Gentleman’s Magazine pieces, and attacked him harshly for it in
Tolondron. 311 Bowle denied Baretti’s accusation, and allies flocked to his defense,
denouncing Baretti as a “furious Italian.” 312 Without Johnson and Reynolds to affirm his
“peaceable” nature, the scholar came to embody the temperamental stereotype he tried so
hard to avoid at the Old Bailey.
In the summer of 1788, Baretti published three “Strictures” in The European
Magazine that became definitive proof of his ‘Italian’ temper.313 The articles were fullthroated assaults on Hester Thrale, who published two volumes of her correspondence
309
Rusnak, 462.
Ibid.
311 Giuseppe Baretti, Tolondron. Speeches to John Bowle about his edition of Don Quixote, together with
some account of Spanish literature, (London, 1786), Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale, Davidson
College Library, 24 Feb. 2014, 116-138.
312 Morning Chronicle (London, England), August 12, 1786; Morning Post and Daily Advertiser (London,
England), November 5, 1788; Gazetteer or New Daily Advertiser November 10, 1788, quoted in Rusnak,
Appendix D, 465.
313 Giuseppe Baretti, “On Signora Piozzi’s Publication of Dr. Johnson’s Letters: Stricture the First,” in The
European Magazine, Vol. 13, (London, England: 1788), Eighteenth Century Cullections Online, Gale, Davidson
College Library, 29 March 2014, 313-317; Baretti, “On Signora Piozzi’s Publication of Dr. Johnson’s Letters:
Stricture the Second,” The European Magazine, Vol. 13, 393-399; Baretti, “On Signora Piozzi’s Publication of
Dr. Johnson’s Letters: Stricture the Third,” The European Magazine, Vol. 14, 89-99.
310
81
with Samuel Johnson earlier that year.314 Baretti was furious at Thrale for including letters
that described his treatment of her during the 1770s. Johnson’s letter about “the tyranny of
Baretti” appeared, as did Thrale’s account of Baretti assailing her for giving Hetty tin
pills.315 “How this woman could be so dishonest as to speak of me in such terms,” Baretti
fumed, “. . . is what I should not be able to comprehend, had I not frequently bestowed my
attention upon the tortuosities [sic] of her disposition.”316 Baretti decried Thrale for
publishing the letters, claiming it was unlikely that the late Johnson, “a supreme despiser of
trifles,” would have consented to her “propagation of scandal.”317 In his rage, Baretti
resorted to ad-hominem tactics. He took aim at Thrale’s marriage to her daughter’s Italian
singing teacher, Gabriel Piozzi, which took place in 1781, three years after the death of her
first husband.
By what right [Baretti asked,] can La Piozzi, as my fiddling countrymen now term
her, claim ceremony and respect from any one of the many whom she has offended
by her publication, now that, in the great wisdom of her concupiscence, she has
degraded herself into the wife of an Italian singing master?318
This brazen question reflected the tension between Baretti’s Italian and English identities.
To inflict maximum damage on Thrale (now Piozzi), he combined sexism with contempt
toward his native country, assuming the persona of a haughty London aristocrat looking
down at her choice of a mate. He went on to declare that Piozzi excluded herself from “all
claim to [his] tenderness,” and refuted bitterly every instance in which she “traduce[d] [his]
314
Samuel Johnson and Hester Piozzi, Letters to and from the Late Samuel Johnson, LL.D., 2 Vols., (London,
1778), Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Davidson College Library. 29 March 2014.
315 Collison-Morley, 344.
316 Baretti, “Stricture the First,” 314.
317 Ibid, 313.
318 Ibid.
82
moral character.”319 For example, Baretti admitted to castigating Piozzi over giving Hetty
tin pills, but said,
. . . tell me freely, honest reader, was I on so important an occasion to play the
sycophant to a woman at once so proud and so absurd, as to tell me without reserve
that she utterly despised Dr. Jebb’s knowledge and remonstrances? To a woman,
that, to spite him, probably would have run that infant to the pill box and forced
some part of its contents down her child’s throat, through energetically warned, that
the life of the amiable thing was at stake, had I not deadened her resolution by
shewing myself ready to oppose it with all my power?320
In short, the scholar tried to vindicate himself by tearing Piozzi apart.
Baretti’s vitriol astounded readers, igniting a scandal reminiscent of the literary
indiscretions that forced him to leave Italy. But whereas Baretti had attacked many people
before Piozzi, this was the first time he turned his pen against a woman. Condemnation
came swiftly. The author Fanny Burney, who knew Baretti and had quarreled with Piozzi,
took the latter’s side, exclaiming, “I could never have suspected him [Baretti], with all his
violence, of a bitterness of invective so cruel, so ferocious.”321 James Boswell disliked both
Baretti and Piozzi, but thought the European Magazine pieces “clipped rather rudely, and
gone [sic] a great deal closer than was necessary.”322 Miss Seward denounced “the base,
ungentlemanlike, unmanly abuse of Mrs. Piozzi by that Italian assassin, Baretti,” calling
upon “the whole literary world” to “unite in publicly reprobating such venomed and foulmouthed railing.” 323 Seward’s charge, in particular, encapsulated Baretti’s newfound
infamy. His “invective,” which Johnson thought was an attempt to be “manly,” made him
decidedly unmanly in a different sense: mistreating a woman was the opposite of chivalry.
319
Baretti, “Stricture the First,” 314.
Ibid, 315.
321 Collison-Morley, 346.
322 Ibid, 346.
323 Ibid, 344. Miss Seward was probably Anna Seward (1747-1809), an English Romantic poet.
320
83
This highly public offense appeared to be manifestly Italian in nature, undermining
Baretti’s credibility as a demi-Englishman. The more Baretti established himself as a
character assassin, the easier it became for people to see him as the murderer of Evan
Morgan.
Baretti never regained his former popularity in Britain, and reactions to his death
were mixed. Six days after he died on May 5, 1789, the Morning Post and Daily Advertiser
published a scathing obituary, claiming the scholar’s passing had “perhaps, excited regret
in no human being.” It described him as,
. . . a snarling old brute with some literature, but wholly destitute of genius and
liberality. His works are poor miserable things, unworthy of critical notice. If this
man had not contrived to obtrude himself into an acquaintance with Mr. Johnson,
who was very credulous with all his great parts and knowledge, he would have
ended his days in a garret.324
In the Gentleman’s Magazine, another hostile article alleged that Baretti had “seldom
written but with the stiletto in one hand,” and that “Mrs. Piozzi has reason to rejoice” in his
death. The magazine published a more complimentary piece on the same page, which
praised Baretti’s linguistic prowess, conversational ability, and integrity. 325 Baretti’s
defender acknowledged that the scholar’s “severity had created him enemies,” but
maintained, “So much asperity of language has been employed to exhibit Mr. Baretti in an
odious light to the publick, that it is but justice to a foreigner, who lived among us six and
thirty years of his life, to produce some testimonies of his better qualities . . . .” 326 Finally,
and most significantly, Hester Piozzi published a piece about Baretti in The World, treating
324
Morning Post and Daily Advertiser, May 11, 1789, quoted in Gallup, 373.
Sylvanus Urban, ed., Gentleman’s Magazine: and Historical Chronicle For the Year MDCCLXXXIX, Vol. 59,
part 1, (London: printed by John Nichols, 1789), 469-470.
326 Ibid.
325
84
him with remarkable evenhandedness despite his recent diatribes in The European
Magazine. She wrote:
Let not the death of Baretti pass unnoticed by ‘The World,’ seeing that Baretti was a
wit if not a scholar: and had for five-and-thirty years at last lived in a foreign
country, whose language he so made himself completely master of, that he could
satirise its inhabitants in their own tongue, better than they knew how to defend
themselves; and often pleased, without ever praising man or woman in book or
conversation. Long supported by the private bounty of friends, he rather delighted
to insult than flatter; he at length obtained competence from a public he esteemed
not; and died, refusing that assistance he considered useless – leaving no debts (but
those of gratitude) charged; and expressing neither regret of the past, nor fear of the
future, I believe. Strong in his prejudices, haughty and independent in his spirit,
cruel in his anger – even when unprovoked; vindictive to excess, if he through
misconception supposed himself even slightly injured, pertinacious in his attacks,
invincible in his aversions: the description of Menelaus in ‘Homer’s Iliad,’ as
rendered by Pope, exactly suits the character of Baretti:
‘So burns the vengeful Hornet, soul all o’er,
Repuls’d in vain, and thirsty still for gore;
Bold son of air and heat on angry wings,
Untamed, untired, he turns, attacks, and stings.’ 327
Why did Piozzi deign to treat Baretti so impartially? Her diary offers a surprisingly
succinct, poetic explanation:
And art thou dead? so is my enmity:
I war not with the dead.
Baretti fell far from his former glory, but, whether he would have appreciated it or not, at
least one old friend gave history an honest account of his character.
327
Piozzi, Vol. 1, 317-318. This passage comes from Piozzi’s private papers. She complained that The
World altered the Pope quotation and replaced some of her adjectives, but even in edited form her piece
captured Baretti better than any other obituary.
85
Conclusion
Giuseppe “Joseph” Baretti’s ambiguous identity and position in London
problematized understandings of foreignness, gender, class, and sexuality. After coming to
the city with little to his name, Baretti worked his way into the intelligentsia by mastering
English and capitalizing on Britons’ fascination with his home country. Even as he decried
generalizations in Samuel Sharp’s account of Italy, the scholar peddled regional Italian
caricatures in his own work, knowing that readers were eager to access the land of the
Renaissance and antiquity. In the 1750s and 60s this strategy earned Baretti commercial
success, critical acclaim, and a post at the prestigious Royal Academy. These achievements
meant nothing to his foes on Haymarket Street. In a brawl set against the backdrop of the
Franco-British rivalry, Baretti became a “French bugger” who battered an Englishwoman
and slew her defender. As he awaited trial, sympathizers in the press transformed Baretti
again. Juxtaposing his status with stereotypes of Haymarket prostitutes and pimps,
commentators shifted the accusation of violence and sexual deviance to Morgan, Patman,
and Clark, laying foundation for the defense to do the same. Finally, in the decades
following the acquittal, Baretti’s irrepressible temper alienated his allies and tarnished his
public image, leading critics to redefine him as an angry Italian.
Baretti illustrates how rapidly a person could rise and fall in eighteenth-century
London. Within two years of his first arrival, the scholar began associating with the
capital’s foremost intellectuals, and the Haymarket Affair put him at the center of the
media’s attention overnight. Yet Baretti’s status declined swiftly in the 1770s, and his
reputation collapsed after he published his Strictures against Piozzi in 1788. It did not take
much to transform from a “man of literature” into an “Italian assassin.”
86
Baretti’s fortunes hinged upon the malleability of Britons’ assumptions about
identity. On Haymarket Street foreignness signified danger; in intellectual circles it gave
Baretti a niche, until it became an explanation for his misbehavior in later years. Male
effeminacy, though mocked in prints, lent credence to Baretti’s self-defense plea and helped
newspapers portray him sympathetically. Moreover, the damning charge of sexual
deviance took many forms; Baretti’s working-class antagonists rallied against the “French
bugger,” while his allies characterized him as a victim of “abandoned Wretches and their
Bullies.” Different stereotypes resonated depending upon circumstance, setting, and how
Baretti and others invoked or embodied them.
Baretti made himself most vulnerable when he picked fights with Englishwomen.
Just as prints urged British males to defend Britannia, Evan Morgan, John Clark, and
Thomas Patman accosted Baretti for striking Elizabeth Ward, and the literary community
ostracized him for assailing Piozzi in print. This pattern’s emergence across class lines is
significant. Whereas Newman and Colley demonstrate the influence of socioeconomic
status on British views of foreigners in the abstract, the Baretti case proves that notions of
chivalry shaped cross-cultural conflicts on the micro level. Londoners did not confront
Baretti just because of his heritage, but the fact that he victimized a female and was foreign
impacted their responses to his transgression. Whether they believed him to be French or
knew he was Italian, Baretti’s antagonists associated his “unmanly” behavior with an alien
nationality, and united against him as Britons.
The lessons of Baretti’s life demonstrate the power of analyzing culture through
case studies. Broader scholarship documents the historical processes that shape societies;
case studies reveal the intricacies of individual behavior, and how those nuances reflect,
87
complicate, or deviate from trends. As Edward Berenson said, “between a grande histoire of
important public events and a petite histoire of private and unimportant ones lies an
histoire microscopique.”328 Baretti was one of millions from the vast world of London in the
eighteenth century, but his experiences touched major themes of social history over and
over again. Through him we see life in the British capital clearer than we did before.
328
Berenson, 8.
88
Appendix
Haymarket & Panton Streets (1746)
http://www.locatinglondon.org/index.html
89
Forty-Six and Fifty-Six (Edwards & Darly, 1756).
http://www.americanantiquarian.org/Inventories/Europeanprints/Box1Folder1/3477.jp
g
90
The English Lion Dismember’d (author unknown, 1757).
http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx
?objectId=3076080&partId=1&searchText=%22the+english+lion%22&page=1
91
A View of the Assassination of the Lady of John Bull Esqr Who was Barbarously
Butcher’d Anno 1756 & 57 &c (author unknown, 1757).
https://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details/collect
ion_image_gallery.aspx?assetId=368894&objectId=3080809&partId=1
92
Touch it again and be hang’d (Edwards & Darly, 1758).
http://find.galegroup.com/ecco/retrieve.do?inPS=true&prodId=ECCO&userGroupName=n
clivedc&tabID=T001&resultListType=RESULT_LIST&searchId=&currentPosition=0&conte
ntSet=ECCOArticles&relatedDocId=Touch%20it%20again%20%20and%20be%20hang'd.|109|Cartoon&bookId=0664900700&docLevel=FASCIMILE&ret
rieveFormat=MULTIPAGE_DOCUMENT&callistoContentSet=ECCOArticles&pageIndex=109
&docId=CW3306317987&relevancePageBatch=CW106317987&workId=0664900700&sor
t=Author
93
The Colonies Reduced and Its Companion (author unknown, 1768).
http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/search_the_collection_database/search_object_d
etails.aspx?objectid=3082864&partid=1&searchText=colonial&fromADBC=ad&toADBC=ad
&titleSubject=on&numpages=10&images=on&orig=%2Fresearch%2Fsearch_the_collection
_database.aspx&currentPage=10
94
Old Bailey Cases Decided by Half-Foreign Juries
Convictions
1. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), December 1748, trial of Hannah Christian Hannah Raductin Hannah Mildred
(t17481207-54).
2. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), January 1750, trial of John Leminghan (t17500117-35).
3. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), January 1752, trial of James Brezeau (t17520116-16).
4. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), February 1752, trial of Anthony de Rosa (t17520219-66).
5. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), February 1752, trial of Jos. Geraldine (t17520219-67).
6. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), April 1761, trial of Theodore Gardelle (t17610401-27).
7. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), May 1761, trial of Antonio de Silva, otherwise John Sequentor (t1761050624).
8. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), October 1761, trial of Tousant Felix Urvoy (t17611021-36).
9. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), May 1769, trial of Philip Erovselle (t17690510-45).
10. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), September 1769, trial of Jacob Snarbo (t17690906-21).
11. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), January 1777, trial of Lawrence Pettit (t17770115-38).
12. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), February 1787, trial of John Ponsarque Dubois (t17870221-6).
13. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), January 1790, trial of Peter Shalley (t17900113-17).
14. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), January 1793, trial of Jacob Timon (t17930109-69).
15. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), April 1795, trial of Francis Gerald (t17950416-33).
16. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), April 1795, trial of Lewis Bonnevento (t17950416-42).
17. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), January 1796, trial of Paulo Offracius (t17960113-91).
18. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), November 1796, trial of Joseph Cuisinier, otherwise Cook (t17961130-19).
19. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), February 1798, trial of Peter Dekclerk (t17980214-40).
20. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), December 1798, trial of Henry Grote (t17981205-46).
95
21. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), September 1799, trial of John Monardy (t17990911-11).
Acquittals
1. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), October 1760, trial of Anthonio de Silva (t17601022-15).
2. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), May 1787, trial of Antonio Nesi (t17870523-38).
3. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), December 1793, trial of Dice Bauker (t17931204-35).
4. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.0, 21 February
2014), February 1798, trial of Henry (t17980214-71).
96
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