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CHAPTER II.

PERSONAL NOTES ON THE WAY—GLIMPSES AT PERIODICALS AND DIFFICULTY IN PLEASING PUBLISHERS—INCIPIENT AUTHORS—GRIFFIN, ROBY, W. H. AINSWORTH, CAPTAIN WEDDELL, LORD NORMANBY, DAGLEY, CARRINGTON, PARDOE, COSTELLO—GRATEFUL FEELINGS.

Be sure ye dinna quit the grip Of ilka joy while ye are young; Before auld age your vitals nip And lay ye twa-fold o’er a rung.—Scottish Song.

Search we the records of an ancient date, Or read what modern histories relate, They all proclaim what wonders have been done, By honest letters taken as they run.—Tickell.

Grove House, Brompton, where I had established myself, as per last volume, was a handsome residence, and well fitted for a sanguine “Litterateur,” whose fortunes were mounting rapidly and largely. George Twining was quite right in his prediction, that appearances would be productive of material benefit; and in a short time my abode became the favoured rendezvous of many individuals who had high influence, to serve the paper in the way of patronage; and of others, who possessed valuable information to communicate, or were engaged in congenial pursuits, and from whose intercourse great assistance was derived, or were launching upon the uncertain sea of public experiment

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AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

in literature, science, the fine arts, the drama, music, and adventure of every description of novelty. I assure my readers that it was a delectable position, to be the centre of all this intelligence and animation; and the spoiling of my infant years and youth, as recorded of those distant dates in Vol. I., did not fail to produce its due effect upon my mind and course of life in this fourth or fifth edition of the same sort of work. The Circean cup was gently replenished, and neither Nymph nor Sabrina could I be expected to be. Let the truth be told; no man ever enjoyed social intercourse and pleasures more intensely than I, and the intimate or casual connection with every species and degree of station, talent, and genius enhanced the enchantment—the very blacks of life making the whites more fascinating, and if the dark now and then eclipsed the bright, the bright in turn brilliantly illuminated and dispelled the dark. As I loved society, society liked me; and, without my making a boast of it, the mere particulars of my narrative must show that I was a good deal courted, and not a little esteemed. I do not know that I deserved so much kindness. All I had to offer for it were the manners of a gentleman—like feeling implanted in me by nature, which unconsciously inspires the tact never to hurt the feelings of others; that general acquaintance with all sorts of affairs which my situation brought me; a tolerable gift for ready and agreeable conversation; and the perfect bonhommie of a good listener to all in the ring, and a warm admirer of the wit and wisdom of my companions of every class. Such were the few and humble accomplishments which made me no ordinary success in the best circles.

Keeping such company, and aided by such associations, the “Gazette” climbed quickly to such a degree of authority and influence in the literary world, and generally with

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the public, that it would be very difficult to form an idea of it now, when great changes have been wrought on periodical and serial literature. Abroad it was all sunshine and flourishing; and at home all gratulation and harmony. My co-proprietors were reaping a golden harvest from my exertions, and the powerful house of Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green threw in its help cordially to promote the common interest. Regular as clock-work the accounts were kept in Paternoster-row, and I had neither care nor trouble with them. In due time, quarterly, they were made up, and my pleasant task was to journey thither, and sign my name in the ponderous ledger, which held hundreds of other accounts, receive my third dividend, whatever it appeared to be, dine with the firm, and drink more success to the “Journal of Belles Lettres” in a bumper.*

It may be remembered that the period at which I have

* Considering the shortness of the time that has elapsed, the almost entire change of manners in respect to the open-house entertainment of authors by publishers is very striking. For a hundred years we read of these frequent days of meeting, and the social intercourse of men of various intellectual attainments and men of the world. Till within the last twenty years they were common in London, and productive of many advantages to all parties. Now we are more refined and elegant, and an occasional formal company has superseded the good old festive custom of The Trade.

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AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

arrived was one of buoyant prosperity; and was succeeded by a monetary and commercial panic of the most disastrous character, and spread over every class of the community. It was sauve qui peut with all; the wealthy and secure drew in their resources, and the less provided, the indebted and the embarrassed, were thrown into the common smash. None felt the shock more severely, as I have already intimated, than the paper interests, publishing, bookselling, printing, and stationery, with all their connections and ramifications. The Government “Gazette” was filled with bankruptcies, and fear pervaded the City with the anticipation of who should be the next. The two grand divisions of London became very ominously distinct; on one side of the barrier the rich or apparently rich, and on the other the poor or apparently poor (for you may hide wealth, but you cannot conceal poverty); those who could and those who could not “meet their engagements.” A good many of my well-to-do associates succumbed in the melée; not from want of substance, but from want of the ready capital to carry them through; for at such times, when so many are borrowers and so few lenders, the customary accommodations are suspended, loans are called in, and the evil is increased and propagated throughout the mercantile world.

My worthy printer, for example, had just erected one of the most perfect printing houses in town (viz., the Temple, in Bouverie-street, now a great chemical warehouse), and thereby so diminished his immediate resources, that he could not sustain the pressure, and those who, under usual circumstances, could and would have helped him through, were themselves in dread, if not in danger, and their good wishes of no avail.* It was my lot to suffer

* My old and esteemed friend, John Britton, notices these circumstances in his autobiography, and in his usual just and kindly spirit.—W. J.

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considerably on the occasion. My bank credit was closed, and the advances reclaimed; and all around, everybody was urgent for everything due to them. It was fortunate I was in the flourishing condition I have stated; and yet it was with much loss and some difficulty that I succeeded in consolidating my incumbrances into a bond, with my share of the “Literary Gazette” as security for 3284l., to be paid off by quarterly payments of 125l., equal to 500l. a year. Thus the beginning of my promised seven years of plenty, after the hard working-up of seven years of famine, was beset by an exhausting drain upon the future. Messrs. Twinings held the bond, and to them and Messrs. Longman and Co. some five-sixths of it were due. I had previously raised 1600l. on an annuity in Rochdale, upon which, with a life assurance, the premium and interest were mounted up to the ruinous pitch of 184l. 2s. 4d. per annum, payable half-yearly; and thus, overweighted, I had need of all my growing means to discharge these heavy obligations, which was regularly done—the first being cleared off, and the last only falling into arrear at a late date, when principal and a fair interest had been paid over and over again.

Unless the literary pursuit had succeeded with me beyond my deservings, I could not have faced, and far less have borne, so sinking a load: as it was, the turn of the tide was “hard to bide,” and bound me to shallows and dangerous flats for a long apprenticeship. An expensive house-rent and premiums on life assurances for family provision, augmented the evil; and the intense wish that I were in my cheap little box of a cottage again, was only aggravated by the impossibility of retreating thither. I was tied to the stake, and Hope told a flattering tale, which I was little inclined to disbelieve; for I had not

20

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

learnt the prudence which so generally secures the advancement and fortune of the brave and wise in London competition of every description, and whose rule (worthy of being written in letters of gold) is to live on one-third of their income, retain another third to meet contingencies or reverses, and lay by the last third for sickness or old age. Such I believe to be nearly the plan by which credit is most firmly established, independence thoroughly based, and wealth and honour attained by the numerous and exemplary commercial class, which it is the boast of our mighty metropolis to possess. I speak not to the literary alone, but to every portion of my younger readers when I adjure them, if it be in their power, to adopt this scheme for their welfare and happiness, and endure everything in order to accomplish the most desirable end. Let them exclaim with Smollett—

Thy spirit, Independence, let me share; Lord of the lion-heart and eagle eye—. Thy steps I’ll follow, with my bosom bare, Nor heed the blast that howls along the sky.

The blasts of debts and poverty are a thousand times more disastrous and fatal.

One fortunate point was, that if my own independence was threatened, that of the journal I edited never was compromised; though nothing was more diligently asserted and propagated by parties concerned in imitative and rival publications. They were the true men, and the “Gazette,” a mere publisher’s hack. If it were so, I can only say that the great majority of publishers must be a very ungrateful set; for from that day to this, they never did what was worth thanks either for me or my works. But it was not the case. My partner, Mr. Colburn, was so offended by my impartiality, that he purchased a large

GLIMPSES AT PERIODICALS.

21

share in the “Athenæum,” and threw away a very considerable sum upon the support it tried to give him whilst it was equally ineffectual in its endeavours to injure his property in the “Literary Gazette.”* The following is another example of such charges and vindication of my course. Mr. Whittaker having made a complaint to Mr. Orme, the letter was enclosed to me, and ran thus:—

My answer on receiving this will prove that the “Gazette” was not undeserving of the confidence reposed in its honesty by the public.

* Mr. Buckingham had previously offered to sell the Athenæum to me, and about this time the Lit. Chronicle, the property of Mr. Davidson, printer, was also desirous to be bought up; but Athenæums, Museums, New Literary Gazettes, Somerset House Gazettes, and other imitative rivals of “the Gazette” made so little way with the public that my co-partners did not think it worth while to pay, even a trifle, for their copyrights.

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24

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

I put this single proof forward to show the principles on which I invariably acted; and from which I never swerved, because I do not believe that any periodical and its editor, were ever exposed to the industrious circulation of systematic falsehood in a greater degree than the “Literary Gazette” and myself for many years.

The “Traditions of the Western Highlands,” written by Dr. Maclean, recommended by the present estimable Vice-Chancellor, John Stuart, formed a series of extremely popular papers; and Gerald Griffin,* introduced by Dr. Maginn, became an occasional contributor to the “Gazette.” This amiable and accomplished writer soon inspired me with a sincere regard; and led to circumstances on which I can look back, even at this distance of time, with melancholy satisfaction; for I had welcomed his earlier productions with great commendation, and had it now in my power to cheer him in his literary toils, and ultimately to smooth parts of the rugged path which consigned him to a premature grave.

Mr. John Roby, a banker at Rochdale, and author of “Traditions of Lancashire,” “The Duke of Mantua, a Tragedy,” and other successful productions, also became a literary connection and friend, till his sad death two years ago, by the wreck of a steam-packet, between Liverpool and Edinburgh, severed another of those intimacies, woven with golden threads, to embellish the web of our mortal pilgrimage. Mr. Roby was endowed with much fancy and talent; and in the midst of important business cares, could not resist the bent of his mind, but pursued the fascinations of poetry and legendary lore with an earnest affection. He had the most extraordinary ear for music that I ever met with, and of the susceptibility of which I can give no other idea, than that it acted upon tones or chords,

* See Appendix, A.

INCIPIENT AUTHORS.

25

as the prism acts upon a ray of light, and enabled him to discern every compound element as it were separately and distinctly. He had also a fine taste for natural scenery, and excelled in describing it. To him I was under many obligations.

“My Grandfather’s Legacy,” was one of Miss Pardoe’s early efforts, and well received in many successive numbers; and Miss Costello, who I presume tried her girl-powers on the stage, in the year when the “Literary Gazette” first issued from the press, was now evincing her charming qualities in the more lasting arena of literature. About this time the Marquis of Normanby, then Lord Mulgrave, manifested his adhesion to literary pursuits by publishing his novel of “Matilda,” and Sir Henry Bulwer, since so highly distinguished as a diplomatist, did the same by his “Autumn in Greece.”

Mr. W. H. Ainsworth, in 1826, began his literary career with “Sir John Chiverton,” a romance in one volume, and of some promise.*

Captain Weddell, too, returned from his antarctic voyage, and reminding the world of the Baffins, and Davises, and Willoughbys of elder times, by his extraordinary achievements in a merchant ship, was added to the number of friends, with whom every year, and such literary occurrences as I have noted, increased my ample store, and improved that happy intercourse to which I owed so much of personal regard and public influence.†

After years have rendered it necessary for me, in justice to myself, to dwell a little more on these points than might otherwise have been requisite, even in an autobiography, but I wish to assert, before the time of doubt or

* See Appendix, B. † See Appendix, C.

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AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

contradiction is past, and have it understood in candour to my memory, that my literary duties were most conscientiously performed, and will be trustworthy so long as their record commands a reference; that the great effect exercised by the organ under my direction lost nothing of its force by being generous and kindly;* and that a quarter of a century, with its human share of cares, toils, troubles, and sorrows, also witnessed thousands of reciprocal good offices or grateful feelings, arising out of my ability to serve my fellow-creatures, and the liberal, unstinted use I made of it. I have blown my trumpet in favour of many a one; and I am not anxious about any remarks which may be provoked by my indulgence in this defiant blast in praise of myself. And further, as some counterpoise to the opinions and assertions I have quoted in the preceding chapter, I shall beg leave, from the letters of three months at this period, to extract a few miscellaneous selections, in order to show my position, and the esteem in which I was held.

Mr. Lupton Relfe, publisher, writes: “I have sent two sets of proofs of ‘Whims and Oddities.’ You have indeed a strong claim on me. Your review of the ‘Whims’ has been, I imagine, the sole cause of its rapid sale. I have already disposed of 600 copies without a single advertisement.”

Mr. Dagley, the author of “Death’s Doings,” (to which I contributed†): “It was not without a portion of alarm, mingled with the pleasureable emotions (raised by your kindness and partiality) that I saw my individual character and talents so highly rated; nor am I now entirely free

* I cannot lift a handful of the letters addressed to me during these many years without finding the majority of them full of acknowledgments for courtesies shown and benefits conferred. † See Appendix, D.

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from anxiety on that account. But it is impossible that I should feel other than grateful for the overflowing of your good will. Nor were the passages alluded to read by my family without a strong (I may say a brimful) sense of it; for their eyes gave tokens of their feelings for the favourable view in which your notice had placed me.”

Mr. Britton, with vol. iv. “Architectural Antiquities:” “I submit it with confidence to your head and heart, knowing that one can discriminate, and the other feel for and sympathise with fellow-labourers in the literary vineyard.”

Mr. N. T. Carrington, author of “Dartmoor,” &c., &c.: “I beg leave to return you my most grateful thanks for the very kind notice which you have been pleased to take of my poem, ‘Dartmoor.’ The ‘Literary Gazette’ was sent to me this morning by the minister of the parish of Wembury, and no person unacquainted with the hopes, the fears, the pains, and perils of authorship, can tell how sweet was that moment. God bless you and him; for it is probable it may be the means of rescuing me and my little ones from the ruin which hung over us.”*

Felix Macdonogh, author of the “Hermit in London:” “My heart sickens when I have to name my distresses to any one, but the agonising pressure of suffering wrings lamentation from me; and as it is only from good feelings and benevolent minds that we can hope for relief, or even sympathy, I do address you in boundless confidence. * * [What was needed need not be told, let it suffice that it was described as] an additional obligation added [men in misery do not write in the best style] to others engraven in indelible characters on the heart of your unfortunate but faithful servant, F. M.”

* See Appendix E.

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Mr. Charles Ollier (asking an especial act of favour): “Therefore step out of your way for once and do a kindness to me, as you have done already, in many ways, to hundreds. I do not mean as regards the pages of the ‘L. G.,’ but in your private capacity.”

Sir F. Freeling: “I unfeignedly hope and trust, for the sake of your family, that you will reap the benefits of your exertions in behalf of others. The inhabitants of the Row are not of a generous race.”

Allan Cunningham (introducing F. W. Smith, a sculptor, for my good offices, and with a request to execute my bust): “If you will oblige him in this, I am sure you will please many friends, for the result will be an admirable portrait of the far-famed editor of the ‘Literary Gazette.’ He must take you not in one of your ireful moods, but when you have got some delightful work to praise and admire, that we may have what ladies call a pleasing likeness.”

Rev. G. R. Gleig, author of the “Subaltern,” and now Chaplain-General to the Forces, at Ash, at the end of April, (and the close of an important politico-literary confidence): “Come and see me. Now is the time when trout begin to play, and the hedges are putting on their liveliest green. Come, and kill the one, and enjoy the other. Yours most truly.”

“T. B. C. must do violence to his feelings did he not return his warmest thanks to Mr. Jerdan for his unexampled kindness to him. He assures Mr. J. that he expected no more than the trifle mentioned in his last note for the article in question; but in T. B. C.’s present situation, such assistance as Mr. J. has afforded him is of incalculable benefit. He is truly sorry that the matter furnished, and promised, is of so little value to Mr. J.; and deeply regrets that his health and abilities are not better, to enable him,

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by some intellectual exertion, to make an adequate return for such kindness.”

I conclude with a letter from Mr. G. Twining, as affording some traits of my character, and the agreeable condition in which I stood with my bankers till the revolution of 1825-6.

“Monday Night.
“‘’Tis now the witching time of night,’
“i. e. past 12.

“My dear Sir,

“Unless your draft for 40l. wishes to travel to the south, having lately come ‘north about,’ it shall pass to your credit with our house. On my return from the city this morning, I found a note from you directed to me. I read the first and second passages over and over again, endeavouring in vain to comprehend them, and thinking they were some literary effusions which I could not comprehend, but at last I felt convinced they were not intended for me, and ‘vix ea nostra voco.’ It is very tantalising to come on Wednesday to shake hands with me, when I am gone. I rise with the lark on Wednesday, and settle with it to rest, I hope, at Calais.

“How can I get a quarter’s ‘Literary Gazette’ at Gottingen for Mr. Rothschild? Pray, if you can, let me know to-morrow (Tuesday). Remember the third Sunday in August. Will you be kind enough to tell the archdeacon [Pott] I am much disappointed, &c., and introduce my ladies.

“I spent some time this morning with Mr. Cartwright. He has not found out the way of making pain turn into pleasure as it were by the touch of Harlequin’s wand, nor does he suppose he has; but certainly by his kind and

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soothing manner, and his agreeable and sensible conversation, he has made me submit—no easy matter!—to pain, and he has robbed it of much of its sting. Believe me, that,

“‘Where’er I turn, whatever realms I see,’

“I shall be, my dear Sir,
“Sincerely yours,

“G. T.

“I assure you I did not mean this for rhyme.”

A critic, fancying himself really a-top of his profession, must flatter himself that he is a wiser and a better man than the author upon whom he pronounces judgment. The Samo-Thracian Aristarchus alone could be his prototype; and woe to the dog that should attempt to bark in his awful presence. It is thus that we have so many literary mountains in labour, and such puny births, or rather abortions; such pop-guns, discharged as if they were heaven’s hoarse artillery; such dogmatic airs assumed by ignorance; such connoisseurship paraded by want of taste; and, above all, such intolerance, pretending to vast superiority, either in consequence of a want of self-examination or a far more unpardonable hypocrisy.