CHAPTER VII.

Dare atque accipere te voloDei divites sunt—deos decent opulentiæEt factiones—verum nos homunculiSalillum animæ, qui cum extemplo amisimusÆquo mendicus atque ille opulentissimusCensetur censu, ad acherontem mortuus.CHAPTER VII.

Dare atque accipere te volo

Dei divites sunt—deos decent opulentiæ

Et factiones—verum nos homunculi

Salillum animæ, qui cum extemplo amisimus

Æquo mendicus atque ille opulentissimus

Censetur censu, ad acherontem mortuus.

Indeed the memorandums intimate, that not the least interesting circumstance of his literary life was implicated in his connection with this personage. This Dr. R. had a brother, who, for a long series of years had been resident in a remote foreign country, where he successfully prosecuted his profession. He became, from familiar communication and personal observation, so well acquainted with the natural history of the country, the peculiarities of the climate, its endemic diseases, the manners of the inhabitants, laws, usages, and singularities, that he wrote and published an interesting volume on the subject, which was very favourably received, and extensively circulated.

Dr. P. succeeded to his brother in his professional reputation, situation, and local advantages, and exercising his mind on similar objects, with the addition of still more favourable opportunities, he very considerably added to the stores which his brother had acquired, and became eminently qualified, to reprint, with important alterations and additions, the work which had obtained to his predecessor, no insignificant degree of credit. He was called upon to undertake this honourable office, and he assented.

At this period, the Sexagenarian was a sort of scholar of fortune, and not being immediately engaged, as it should seem, in any work which exclusively demanded his attention, did not disdain the task of revising the manuscripts of authors, and superintending their labours through the press. For this employment, an adequate compensation was expected and rendered.

The parties, in the present instance, had frequently met, and were on certain terms of familiarity. One evening, the Doctor took the writer of these memoranda on one side, and proposed to him to undertake the revision of his work in manuscript, and the correction of it subsequently at the press. This was readily agreed to, but no terms were mentioned on either side.

The manuscript, which was of no ordinary bulkor extent, was received, examined with careful attention, at the expence of no small portion of time, and finally committed to the press.

It extended to no less than two large quarto volumes, and probably altogether a year, or somewhat more, was employed on the labour. In the interval, our Sexagenarian and his family used to speculate on the golden harvest about to be reaped, by way of compensation. What was it to be? a pipe of Madeira? a pair of silver candlesticks? a gold repeater?

At length, the last sheet was sent to press, and the day of publication announced. The corrector waited upon the author to felicitate him on his safe delivery. A week passed away—a fortnight—a month—still no Madeira—no piece of plate;—in short, no solid pudding, but a great deal of empty praise. However it was soon forgotten.

Temporis officium solatia dicere certi est.

And it was not always so. Similar occupations were afterwards thrown in the way, but he had the wisdom taught him by the experience he had obtained, to undertake nothing but with certain specifications of recompence.

This seems no improper opportunity of inserting a detached anecdote on the subject of compensation for literary labour, which occurs somewhere or other in our manuscript.

A venerable old clergyman, who had in part, directed the education of our friend, and who took a warm and friendly interest in his reputation and welfare, had been informed, with no benevolent intention, that he prostituted his learning and talents to needy booksellers.

The Sexagenarian, on some occasion or other, revisited the place where his friend and patron resided, and both from affection and gratitude, hastened to pay his respects, where they were so justly due. He was greatly surprised to find the warmth, with which he had hitherto, invariably, been welcomed, changed into extreme coldness.

On requesting an explanation, Sir, said the old gentleman, I am informed that you write for the booksellers, than which I cannot conceive any thing more degrading, or more unbecoming, a scholar and a gentleman.

Pray Sir, did not Addison, and Swift, and Pope, and before them Dryden, write for the booksellers?

Granted, but that was a very different matter: their reputation was established, and they moreover, obtained very large sums for their productions.

If, Sir, the largeness of the sum increases or diminishes, as you appear to conceive it does, the turpitude of the action, how much do you imagine I received for my last work? I beg you also to rememberthat I have a large and increasing family, and nothing to depend upon but my talents and my diligence.

Why perhaps fifty pounds.

I have received seven hundred guineas.

The old gentleman’s displeasure vanished in a moment. I cannot blame you, I cannot blame you, he exclaimed, and they parted as good friends as ever.

Now to return to the brother author Doctor. Bating this single circumstance of his being too tenacious of his money, he was a most agreeable, well-informed, and good-natured man. Though far advanced in years, he retained a great deal of vivacity, and has often enlivened a numerous circle by his facetiousness and humour. No one endured a jest with greater forbearance; and as he came from a country where the Mahometan law prevailed, and had written a detailed account of the usages and peculiarities of the haram, he was often laughingly reproached with availing himself of the privileges of the Mahometan law to its fullest extent. That he ranked as a bashaw of three tails, had four wives, &c. &c.

Back to Index Next