108 | AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. |
Here lies * * * *
Who long was a bookseller’s hack;
He led such a d—mn—ble life in this world,
That I don’t think he’ll wish to come back!—Goldsmith.
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During the period I have been speaking of, my regular literary
occupation was connected with the “Morning
Post,” and afterwards with the “British Press;” but I was also a contributor to the
“Satirist,” a monthly publication,
edited by Mr. George Manners, from whom I
subsequently purchased the copyright, and tried my luck with a new series, divested of the
personalities and rancour of the old. This purchase was a beautiful example of the bargains
made in so business-like a style by literary men. Mr. Manners was a
gentleman in every sense of the word, full of fancy and talent, acute and well-informed.
For aught I know, he is now a British consul in America. He sold me the magazine, the
stock, and the house in which it was published (No. 267, Strand), as folks say, in a lump,
the latter being vouched as respectably tenanted. But I turned out not only an unsuccessful
speculator in the publication, but a still more unfortunate landlord. My first floor was
held by a good-looking mantua-maker, with four or five younger assistants; and they all
literally laughed at me when I
LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. | 109 |
In the way of jobs there were, and I daresay there are, often literary
services required of individuals, who become known as writers for the press. Some of them
are honourable, some lucrative, and some hardly to be squared with very correct feelings,
though not absolutely disreputable. But they are things which, upon after reflection, you
would rather wish you had not done, or had anything to do with. I had helped a comrade,
hurried to complete his work, a lift in the translation of Staël’s Corinne—a task which repaid itself in the pleasure of performance; but I was
not so well satisfied with my next production, though I cannot now recall the grounds of my
dissatisfaction—it was the composition of a novel under the title of “New Canterbury Tales,” the
material furnished by some captain, or I forget what, and the literary shape given by
Mr. Michael Nugent, the undertaker, and myself.
Nugent was for many years a reporter, and an exceedingly clever
man, thrown
110 | AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. |
It was better, and more congenial employment, to edit provincial newspapers in London, which, though absurd as it may seem at first sight, is just as effective (with a subeditor on the spot for the local news, &c.) as if the writer resided in the place of publication. For the political intelligence had to come from town, to be handled in the country, and it was quite as easy and expeditious to have the news and the commentaries sent down together. I do not know whether the railroad system, and the greater importance of the leading provincial journals, now, may have altered this practice, but it was previously a source of considerable revenue to the gentlemen engaged in such communications. Thus I edited the “Sheffield Mercury” for a number of years, and at other times a Birmingham, a Staffordshire Pottery, an Irish journal (for which I never was paid), and others in various parts of the country, to the sound edification of their readers, and the entire relief of their proprietors, who had nothing to do but eat their puddings and hold their tongues.
The details of my London contributions to the press, in a subordinate
position, could possess but little public interest; and all I shall hope to do, with the
sanction of my readers, will be to allow me in future volumes to submit
LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. | 111 |
Of my writings in the “Morning Post” the most effective, in one sense, were a continuation of “leaders,” as editorial comments are designated, pending the memorable charges brought by Mr. Wardle, and sustained by the evidence of Mary Anne Clarke. In these I made an abstract of the parliamentary proceedings from night to night, and earnestly maintained the cause of his royal highness against all comers, denouncing the conspiracy against him, and exposing the misdeeds of his enemies. I am not now going to revive the question, nor give my opinion of the measure of weakness on one side, or falsehood on the other. Sorely did the duke prove the truth of the poet, that “Our pleasant vices make instruments to scourge us” as certainly and more severely than our crimes; but the appeal has been made from Philip drunk to Philip sober; and I believe that history will clear the accused from all the grosser stains with which Party and Malicious revenge laboured so fiercely to blacken his character. But be that as it may, the tide of popular resentment ran far too strong at the time to allow of any resistance. The outcry was too loud to admit of any other voice being heard; and though I shouted as vehemently as I could, it would be inconsistent with truth to assert that I succeeded, to any extent, in arresting or modifying the overwhelming current
* See Appendix F. |
112 | AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. |
“Accept my best thanks for your continued friendly and
able assistance. I am going to take a run to Brighton this morning, but shall
be back to-morrow evening in time, I hope, to do the necessary business. As it
is not impos-
LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. | 113 |
Yet in the midst of all this turmoil there were interludes of rather
exciting amusement. Mrs. Clarke resided in a house
in the King’s Road, a short distance from Sloane Square, on my way to town, and as I
happened to have been introduced to her at her sister’s, Mrs.
Casey, she thought our acquaintance intimate enough to excuse an invitation
for me to call upon her. Such a chance, when all the world were crazy to have only a glance
at the Leonne of the day, was not to be thrown
away, and accordingly I very soon waited upon the lady. Her object, as may be surmised, was
to neutralize my pen, and the wiles to which she resorted would make a delicious chapter in
the history of woman’s ingenuity. I found myself as a bird, I suppose may do when
caught in a net; but the meshes were of many shapes and kinds, and reticulated with
infinite skill and cunning. Wheedling confidential secrets, allurements, prospects of
advantage, piquant familiarities, recherché
treats, and lies. Never was a greater variety of artillery brought to bear upon a newspaper
scribbler; and, at least, Madame so far accomplished her wishes,
that I did moderate my tone about her personal performances, and was debarred from using
other intelligence, lest it might be said that I stole it from the enemy’s camp. And
a queer camp it was: the resort of dozens of M.P.’s, and of curious strangers, as
ambitious of favourable reception as the most eminent legislators of the realm. Though all
114 | AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. |
A visit from the 30th of June to the 24th of July, which I had the pleasure to pay to the mess of the 95th Rifle Regiment, at Hythe, in 1809, was an incident of exceeding interest to me. From a soldier’s welcome, in that short time, I became intimate with many gallant fellows who were lost in the ill-fated Walcheren expedition, and, within a few later years, shed lustre on their names and glorified their country in the Peninsular Campaigns. Methinks I see them now on the heights of Hythe, the most animated of human kind. The early morning bugle called them from their tents and barracks; their duties were attended to; and all else was gaiety and happiness. Dinners, parties, balls,—
How stands the glass around? For shame, you take no care my boy; Let mirth and wine abound; * * *
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LITERARY OCCUPATIONS. | 115 |
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