1759. he would wish to see revived; when, with little of wealth or worldly luxury, the writer could yet command esteem for t. 31. himself and reverence for the claims of his calling; and he dwells upon the contrast of existing times, in language which will hereafter connect itself with the deliberate dislike of Walpole, and the uneasy jealousy of Garrick.* 66 "When the link between patronage and learning was entire, then "all who deserved fame were in a capacity of attaining it. When the great Somers was at the helm, patronage was fashionable among our "nobility. The middle ranks of mankind, who generally imitate the Great, then followed their example, and applauded from fashion if not "from feeling. I have heard an old poet" [he alludes to Young]" of that "glorious age say, that a dinner with his lordship has procured him "invitations for the whole week following; that an airing in his patron's chariot has supplied him with a citizen's coach on every future "occasion. For who would not be proud to entertain a man who kept "so much good company? But this link now seems entirely broken. "Since the days of a certain prime-minister of inglorious memory, the 66 * I cannot help quoting also in this place, from the last edition (1853, ii. 223-4) of Lord Mahon's History, a passage very pertinent to the matter under discussion, and very honourable to the writer. "Literary profits do not in all respects supply "the place of literary patronage. First, there are several studies such as many "branches of science or antiquities-which are highly deserving of encouragement, "but not generally popular, and therefore not productive of emolument. In these cases the liberality of the Government might sometimes usefully atone for the "indifference of the public. But even with the most popular authors, the necessity of looking to their literary labours for their daily bread, has not "unfrequently an unfavourable effect upon the former. It may compel, or at "least induce, them to over-write themselves; to pour forth hasty and immature “productions; to keep at all hazards their names before the public. How seldom can they admit intervals of leisure, or allow their minds to lie fallow for a season, in order to bear hereafter a larger and a better harvest! In like manner, they must minister to the taste of the public, whatever that taste may "be, and sometimes have to sacrifice their own ideas of beauty, and aspirations "of fame. These are undoubted evils, not merely to them, but to us; and as 66 undoubtedly are they guarded against whenever a fixed and competent provision can be granted to genius. I am therefore clearly of opinion, that any Minister "who might have the noble ambition to become the patron of literary men, would "still find a large field open to his munificence; that his intercourse with them "on the footing of equal friendship would be a deserved distinction to them, and a "liberal recreation to himself; that his favours might be employed with great "advantage, and received with perfect independence." 66 66 * "learned have been kept pretty much at a distance. A jockey, or a "laced player, supplies the place of the scholar, poet, or the man of "virtue.... Wit, when neglected by the Great, is generally despised by "the vulgar. Those who are unacquainted with the world, are apt to "fancy the man of wit as leading a very agreeable life. They conclude, "perhaps, that he is attended to with silent admiration, and dictates "to the rest of mankind with all the eloquence of conscious superiority. Very different is his present situation. He is called an author, and "all know that an author is a thing only to be laughed at. His person, not his jest, becomes the mirth of the company. At his approach the "most fat unthinking face brightens into malicious meaning. Even aldermen laugh, and avenge on him the ridicule which was lavished "on their forefathers: 66 ... Etiam victis redit in præcordia virtus, 'The poet's poverty is a standing topic of contempt. His writing "for bread is an unpardonable offence. Perhaps of all mankind an "author in these times is used most hardly. We keep him poor and "yet revile his poverty. Like angry parents, who correct their children "till they cry, and then correct them for crying, we reproach him for "living by his wit, and yet allow him no other means to live. His "taking refuge in garrets and cellars has of late been violently objected "to him, and that by men who I dare hope are more apt to pity than "insult his distress. Is poverty the writer's fault? No doubt he knows "how to prefer a bottle of champaign to the nectar of the neighbouring "alehouse, or a venison pasty to a plate of potatoes. Want of delicacy "is not in him but in us, who deny him the opportunity of making an "elegant choice. Wit certainly is the property of those who have it, nor should we be displeased if it is the only property a man some"times has. We must not underrate him who uses it for subsistence, " and flies from the ingratitude of the age even to a bookseller for redress. "If the profession of an author is to be laughed at by the stupid, it is "certainly better to be contemptibly rich than contemptibly poor. For "all the wit that ever adorned the human mind will at present no more shield the author's poverty from ridicule, than his high-topped "gloves + conceal the unavoidable omissions of his laundress. To be This allusion to the "inglorious memory" of Sir Robert Walpole is more than enough to explain the never ceasing indifference, dislike, or contempt avowed by Horace Walpole for its author. 66 "I asked Mr. Gray," says Nicholls, "what sort of a man Dr. Hurd was. He "answered, "The last person who left off stiff-topped gloves."" Works, v. 52. Mr. Rogers has often humorously quoted this as a good trait of character. 66 more serious, new fashions, follies, and vices, make new monitors necessary in every age. An author may be considered as a merciful "substitute to the legislature; he acts not by punishing crimes but "preventing them; however virtuous the present age, there may be "still growing employment for ridicule or reproof, for persuasion or "satire. If the author be therefore still so necessary among us, let us "treat him with proper consideration as a child of the public, not a rent-charge on the community. And indeed a child of the public he "is in all respects; for while so well able to direct others, how incapable "is he frequently found of guiding himself! His simplicity exposes "him to all the insidious approaches of cunning; his sensibility, to the "slightest invasions of contempt. Though possessed of fortitude to "stand unmoved the expected bursts of an earthquake, yet of feelings "so exquisitely poignant as to agonise under the slightest disappoint"ment." Broken rest, tasteless meals, and causeless anxiety, shorten "his life, or render it unfit for active employment; prolonged vigils "and intense application still farther contract his span, and make his "time glide insensibly away. Let us not then aggravate those natural "inconveniences by neglect; we have had sufficient instances of this "kind already. Sale and Moore will suffice for one age at least. But The neglected author of "they are dead, and their sorrows are over. "the Persian Eclogues [Collins] which, however inaccurate, excel any "in our language, is still alive. Happy, if insensible of our neglect, not "raging at our ingratitude. It is enough that the age has already produced instances of men pressing foremost in the lists of fame, and "worthy of better times, schooled by continued adversity into an hatred "of their kind, flying from thought to drunkenness, yielding to the "united pressure of labour, penury and sorrow, sinking unheeded, "without one friend to drop a tear on their unattended obsequies, and "indebted to charity for a grave." + few years, when These words had been written but a very the hand that traced them was itself cold; and, yielding to that united pressure of labour, penury, and sorrow, with a 66 *He improved upon this description in the 84th Letter of the Citizen of the World. I fancy the character of a poet is in every country the same fond of "enjoying the present, careless of the future; his conversation that of a man of "sense, his actions those of a fool; of fortitude able to stand unmoved at the "bursting of an earthquake, yet of sensibility to be affected by the breaking of a "tea-cup; such is his character...the very opposite of that which leads to riches." † Chap. x. 1759. Æt. 31. 1759. Æt. 31. 1 frame exhausted by unremitting and ill-rewarded drudgery, Goldsmith was indebted to the forbearance of creditors for a peaceful burial. It is not, then, in the early death of learned Sale, driven mad with those fruitless schemes of a society for encouragement of learning, which he carried, it may be hoped, to a kinder world than this; it is not from the grave of Edward Moore, with melancholy playfulness anticipating, in his last unsuccessful project, the very day on which his death would fall; it is not even at the shrieks of poor distracted Collins, heard through the melancholy cathedralcloister where he had played in childhood: but it is in this life, adventures, and death of Oliver Goldsmith, that the mournful and instructive moral speaks its warning to us now. I know of none more deeply impressive, or of wider import and significance. When Collins saw the hopes of his youth in the cold light of the world's indifference, with a mixed impulse of despair and revenge he collected the unsold edition of his hapless Odes and Eclogues, and with a savage delight beheld them slowly consume, as, in his own room, he made a bonfire of them. When Goldsmith was visited with a like weakness, something of a like result foreboded; but the better part was forced upon him in his own despite, and in the present most affecting picture of his patience the hectic agony of Collins is but an idle frenzy. Steadily gazing on the evil destinies of men-of-letters, he no longer desires to avoid his own; conscious of the power of the booksellers, he condemns and denounces it; without direct hope, save of some small public favour, he protests against cruelties for which the public are responsible. The protest will accompany us through the remainder of his life and be remembered as well in its lightest passages, as in those where any greatness of suffering will now be less apparent 1759. than a calmness of endurance; a resolute quiet power of persevering exertion, in which, with whatever infirmities of t. 31. disposition or temper, he will front and foil adversity. Such, at the worst, is the resource of a healthy genius. It works evil into good, and has within it a principle of sustainment and of self-consolation. The more particularly does it become the world to take note of this, as a party far more deeply concerned than bookseller or than author. That cry of Goldsmith is little for himself. Who wins his passage to the goal, may care little at the close for a larger suffering or a less the cry is raised for others, meanwhile perishing by the way. When Irene failed, and Johnson was asked how he felt, he answered "like the Monument; "* but when he had arrived at comfort and independence, and carelessly taking up one day his own fine satire, opened it at the lines which paint the scholar's fate, and the obstructions, almost insurmountable, in his way to fortune and fame, he burst into a passion of tears. Not for what he had himself endured, whose labour was at last victoriously closed; but for all the disastrous chances that still awaited others. It is the world's concern. There is a subtle spirit of compensation at work, when men regard it least, which to the spiritual sense accommodates the vilest need, and lightens the weariest burden. Milton talked of the lasting fame and perpetuity of praise, which God and good men have consented should be the reward of those whose published labours have advanced the 66 6 *Boswell's Life, i. 230. + Mrs. Piozzi's Anecdotes, 50. "The family and Mr. Scott only were present, "who in a jocose way clapped him on the back, and said, 'What's all this, my "'dear sir? Why you, and I, and Hercules, you know, were all troubled with melancholy....He was a very large man, and made out the triumvirate with "Johnson and Hercules comically enough. The Doctor was so delighted at his "odd sally, that he suddenly embraced him, and the subject was immediately 'changed." 66 |