1720
"Poems on Several Occasions"--Gay Invests His Earnings in the South
Sea Company--The South Sea "Bubble" Breaks, and Gay Loses all His
Money--Appointed a Commissioner of the State Lottery--Lord Lincoln
Gives Him an Apartment in Whitehall--At Tunbridge
Wells--Correspondence with Mrs. Howard.
Gay in 1720 was in his thirty-fifth year, and he had commenced author
some twelve years before this date. During this period his output had
been very small, and his success not conspicuous. As a dramatist he had
been a complete failure--his first play, "The Wife of Bath," was
still-born, and the others, "The What D'ye Call It" and "Three Hours
After Marriage," had practically been hooted off the stage, and had
brought him in their train a considerable degree of unpopularity. Of his
poems, the only ones of any marked merit were "The Shepherd's Week," and
"Trivia," and even these were unambitious, though not without merit. Gay
now bethought him of collecting his poems, published and unpublished,
and they were issued in two quarto volumes early in 1720, with the joint
imprint of Jacob Tonson and his old publisher, Bernard Lintott, and with
a frontispiece by William Kent.
The "Poems on Several Occasions," as the collection was styled, were
issued by subscription. His friends supported him admirably. Lord
Burlington and Lord Chandos each put down his name for fifty copies,
Lord Bathurst for ten copies; in all Gay made more than £1,000 by the
publication. To this success he alluded in his "Epistle to the Right
Honourable Paul Methuen, Esq."[1]
Yet there are ways for authors to be great;
Write ranc'rous libels to reform the State;
Or if you choose more sun and readier ways,
Spatter a minister with fulsome praise:
Launch out with freedom, flatter him enough;
Fear not, all men are dedication-proof.
Be bolder yet, you must go farther still,
Dip deep in gall thy mercenary quill.
He who his pen in party quarrels draws,
Lists an hired bravo to support the cause;
He must indulge his patron's hate and spleen,
And stab the fame of those he ne'er has seen.
Why then should authors mourn their desp'rate case?
Be brave, do this, and then demand a place.
Why art thou poor? exert the gifts to rise,
And vanish tim'rous virtue from thy eyes.
All this seems modern preface, where we're told
That wit is praised, but hungry lives and cold:
Against th' ungrateful age these authors roar,
And fancy learning starves because they're poor.
Yet why should learning hope success at Court?
Why should our patriots virtue's cause support?
Why to true merit should they have regard?
They know that virtue is its own reward.
Yet let me not of grievances complain.
Who (though the meanest of the Muse's train)
Can boast subscriptions to my humble lays,
And mingle profit with my little praise.
What to do with the thousand pounds--a sum certainly far larger than any
of which he had ever been possessed--Gay had not the slightest idea. He
had just enough wisdom to consult his friends. Erasmus Lewis, a prudent
man of affairs, advised him to invest it in the Funds and live upon the
interest; Arbuthnot advised him to put his faith in Providence and live
upon the capital; Swift and Pope, who understood him best, advised him
to purchase an annuity. Bewildered by these divergent counsels, he did
none of these things. Just when he was confronted with the necessity of
making up his mind, Pope's friend, James Craggs the younger, of whom he
wrote in "Mr. Pope's Welcome from Greece":--
Bold, generous Craggs, whose heart was ne'er disguised,
made him a present of some stock of the South Sea Company, at the same
time, no doubt, telling him that in all probability it would rise in
value. Here was a chance, dear to the heart of this hunter after
sinecures, of getting something for nothing--or next to nothing. With
his thousand pounds he purchased more South Sea stock. At what price Gay
bought it is impossible to say, but it is not unlikely that Craggs'
present was made in April, 1720, when the first money-subscription was
issued at the price of £300 for each £100 stock. The poet's good fortune
was at this moment in the ascendant. A mania for speculation burst over
the town, and everybody bought and sold South Sea stock. In July it was
quoted at £1,000. If Gay had then sold out he would have realised a sum
in the neighbourhood of £20,000. His friends implored him to content
himself with this handsome profit, but in vain. As Dr. Johnson put it,
"he dreamed of dignity and splendour, and could not bear to obstruct his
own fortune."[2] He who a few months ago had been practically penniless,
could not now bring himself to be satisfied with an income of about a
thousand a year. Realising that it was impossible entirely to overcome
his obduracy, his friends then begged him at least to sell so much as
would produce even a hundred a year in the Funds, "which," Fenton said
to him, "will make you sure of a clean shirt and a shoulder of mutton
every day." Gay was not to be moved from his resolve to become a great
capitalist. Arguments were of no avail. The wilful man finally had his
way. Almost from the moment he refused to yield to his friends'
entreaties the price of South Sea stock declined rapidly. The "Bubble"
burst, and in October South Sea stock was unsaleable at any price. Gay
lost not only his profit but his capital, and was again reduced to
penury.
Gay spoke his mind about the "Bubble" in "A Panegyrical Epistle to Mr.
Thomas Snow, Goldsmith, near Temple Bar: Occasioned by his Buying and
Selling of the Third Subscriptions, taken in by the Directors of the
South Sea Company, at a thousand per cent," which was published by
Lintott in 1721:--
O thou, whose penetrative wisdom found
The South-Sea rocks and shelves, where thousands drown'd,
When credit sunk, and commerce gasping lay,
Thou stood'st; nor sent one bill unpaid away.
When not a guinea chink'd on Martin's boards,
And Atwill's self was drain'd of all his hoards,
Thou stood'st (an Indian king in size and hue)
Thy unexhausted shop was our Peru.
Why did 'Change-Alley waste thy precious hours,
Among the fools who gaped for golden showers?
No wonder if we found some poets there,
Who live on fancy, and can feed on air;
No wonder they were caught by South-Sea schemes
Who ne'er enjoy'd a guinea but in dreams;
No wonder they their third subscription sold,
For millions of imaginary gold:
No wonder that their fancies wild can frame }
Strange reasons, that a thing is still the same, }
Tho' changed throughout in substance and in name. }
But you (whose judgment scorns poetic flights)
With contracts furnish boys for paper kites.
One of the immediate results of the disaster was Gay's inability to
fulfil his obligations to one of the publishers of his "Poems on Several
Occasions":--
JOHN GAY TO JACOB TONSON.
Friday morning [_circa_ October, 1720].
"Sir,--I received your letter with the accounts of the books you had
delivered. I have not seen Mr. Lintott's account, but shall take the
first opportunity to call on him. I cannot think your letter consists of
the utmost civility, in five lines to press me twice to make up my
account just at a time when it is impracticable to sell out of the
stocks in which my fortune is engaged. Between Mr. Lintott and you the
greatest part of the money is received, and I imagine you have a
sufficient number of books in your hands for the security of the rest.
To go to the strictness of the matter, I own my note engages me to make
the whole payment in the beginning of September. Had it been in my
power, I had not given you occasion to send to me, for I can assure you
I am as impatient and uneasy to pay the money I owe, as some men are to
receive it, and it is no small mortification to refuse you so reasonable
a request, which is that I may no longer be obliged to you."[3]
* * * * *
The loss of his fortune was, of course, a very severe blow to Gay, but
as ever, his friends gathered round him. Instead of being angry with him
for his folly--but no one of his friends was ever angry with him--they
looked upon him, and treated him, just as a spoilt child who had
disobediently tried to get over a hedge and had scratched himself in the
endeavour. They put their heads together to find "something" for him.
Gay, of course, was not easy to deal with; it was difficult to make him
listen to reason. He could not be brought to believe that it was not his
due to receive something for nothing. He had been secretary to Lord
Clarendon's brief Mission to Hanover; why had not diplomacy something to
offer him? The Princess of Wales had asked for a copy of a set of his
verses; was there no place for him at Court? He had praised members of
the Royal Family in verse; was there somewhere--somehow--a sinecure in
the Household for him? It seems that Gay really could not understand the
position. Could not Mrs. Howard do something in his interest? Could not
the friends of Pope do aught to secure that little post? Or Lord
Burlington, or Lord Bathurst, or William Pulteney, or some one of the
rest? He became petulant, and it is a tribute to his charm that not one
of these persons was ever disgusted with him, but continued to feed him,
keep him, and pet him, and made their friends and their friends' friends
do likewise. In fact, this delightful, whimsical, helpless creature
leant upon all who were stronger, and each one upon whom he leant loved
him to his dying day.
Gay's health, which was never robust, gave way under his bitter
disappointment, and in 1721 he went in the early autumn to Bath, where
Mrs. Bradshaw wrote to Mrs. Howard, September 19th: "He is always with
the Duchess of Queensberry." In the following year he was again ill, and
went again to recuperate at the Somersetshire watering place.
JOHN GAY TO DEAN SWIFT.
London, December 22nd, 1722.
"After every post-day, for these eight or nine years, I have been
troubled with an uneasiness of spirit, and at last I have resolved to
get rid of it and write to you. I do not deserve you should think so
well of me as I really deserve, for I have not professed to you that I
love you as much as ever I did; but you are the only person of my
acquaintance, almost, that does not know it. Whomever I see that comes
from Ireland, the first question I ask is after your health ... I think
of you very often; nobody wishes you better, or longs more to see you
... I was there [at Bath] for near eleven weeks for a colic that I have
been troubled with of late; but have not found all the benefit I
expected ... I lodge at present at Burlington House, and have received
many civilities from many great men, but very few real benefits. They
wonder at each other for not providing for me, and I wonder at them all.
Experience has given me some knowledge of them, so that I can say, that
it is not in their power to disappoint me."[4]
This was certainly ungrateful of Gay, but allowance may perhaps be made
for him on the ground that he was, as Coxe has written, "of a sanguine
disposition, was easily raised and as easily depressed. He mistook the
usual civilities of persons of distinction for offers of assistance, and
argued from the common promises of a Court certain preferment." He
accordingly always suffered from mortification, about which he was prone
to discourse. This was a foible well known to his friends, and even Pope
could not refrain from gently chaffing him: "I wish you joy of the birth
of the young Prince,[5] because he is the only prince we have from whom
you have had no expectations and no disappointments."[6]
DEAN SWIFT TO JOHN GAY.
Dublin, January 8th, 1723.
"Although I care not to talk to you as a divine, yet I hope you have not
been the author of your colic. Do you drink bad wine or keep bad
company?... I am heartily sorry you have any dealings with that ugly
distemper, and I believe our friend Arbuthnot will recommend you to
temperance and exercise ...
"I am extremely glad he [Pope] is not in your case of needing great
men's favour, and could heartily wish that you were in his.
"I have been considering why poets have such ill success in making their
court, since they are allowed to be the greatest and best of all
flatterers. The defect is, that they flatter only in print or in
writing, but not by word of mouth; they will give things under their
hand which they make a conscience of speaking. Besides, they are too
libertine to haunt antechambers, too poor to bribe porters and footmen,
and too proud to cringe to second-hand favourites in a great family.
"Tell me, are you not under original sin by the dedication of your
Eclogues to Lord Bolingbroke?
"I am an ill judge at this distance, and besides am, for my case,
utterly ignorant of the commonest things that pass in the world; but if
all Courts have a sameness in them (as the parsons phrase it), things
may be as they were in my time, when all employments went to
Parliament-men's friends, who had been useful in elections, and there
was always a huge list of names in arrears at the Treasury, which would
at least take up your seven years' expedient to discharge even one-half.
"I am of opinion, if you will not be offended, that the surest course
would be to get your friend [Lord Burlington] who lodgeth in your house
to recommend you to the next Chief Governor who comes over here, for a
good civil employment, or to be one of his secretaries, which your
Parliament-men are fond enough of, when there is no room at home. The
wine is good and reasonable; you may dine twice a week at the
Deanery-house; there is a set of company in this town sufficient for one
man; folks will admire you, because they have read you, and read of you;
and a good employment will make you live tolerably in London, or
sumptuously here; or, if you divide between both places, it will be for
your health."[7]
* * * * *
Gay's friends, who had persistently been on the look-out to help him, at
last met with some small measure of success. "I am obliged to you for
your advice, as I have been formerly for your assistance in introducing
me into business," Gay wrote to Swift from London, February 3rd, 1723.
"I shall this year be Commissioner of the State Lottery, which will be
worth to me a hundred and fifty pounds. And I am not without hopes that
I have friends that will think of some better and more certain provision
for me."[8] In addition to this post, the Earl of Lincoln was persuaded
to give him an apartment in Whitehall. The Commissionship and the
residence to some small extent soothed Gay's ruffled vanity, and were
beyond question convenient.
JOHN GAY TO DEAN SWIFT.
London, February 3rd, 1723.
"As for the reigning amusements of the town, it is entirely music; real
fiddles, bass-viols and hautboys; not poetical harps, lyres and reeds.
There's nobody allowed to say, I sing, but an eunuch or an Italian
woman. Everybody is grown now as great a judge of music, as they were in
your time of poetry, and folks that could not distinguish one tune from
another now daily dispute about the different styles of Handel,
Bononcine, and Attilio. People have now forgot Homer and Virgil and
Cæsar, or at least they have lost their ranks. For in London and
Westminster, in all polite conversations, Senesino is daily voted to be
the greatest man that ever lived.
"Mr. Congreve I see often; he always mentions you with the strongest
expressions of esteem and friendship. He labours still under the same
affliction as to his sight and gout; but in his intervals of health he
has not lost anything of his cheerful temper. I passed all the last
season with him at Bath, and I have great reason to value myself upon
his friendship, for I am sure he sincerely wishes me well. Pope has just
now embarked himself in another great undertaking as an author, for of
late he has talked only as a gardener. He has engaged to translate the
Odyssey in three years, I believe rather out of a prospect of gain than
inclination, for I am persuaded he bore his part in the loss of the
South Sea. I supped about a fortnight ago with Lord Bathurst and Lewis
at Dr. Arbuthnot's."[9]
* * * * *
During the summer of 1723 Gay, still troubled with the colic, went to
Tunbridge Wells, where he carried on a vigorous correspondence with Mrs.
Howard.
THE HON. MRS. HOWARD TO JOHN GAY.
Richmond Lodge, July 5th, 1723.
"I was very sorry to hear, when I returned from Greenwich, that you had
been at Richmond the same day; but I really thought you would have
ordered your affairs in such a manner that I should have seen you before
you went to Tunbridge. I dare say you are now with your friends, but not
with one who more sincerely wishes to see you easy and happy than I do;
if my power was equal to theirs the matter should soon be determined.
"I am glad to hear you frequent the church. You cannot fail of being
often put in mind of the great virtue of patience, and how necessary
that may be for you to practise I leave to your own experience. I
applaud your prudence (for I hope it is entirely owing to it) that you
have no money at Tunbridge. It is easier to avoid the means of
temptation than to resist them when the power is in our own hands....
"The place you are in has strangely filled your head with cures and
physicians; but (take my word for it) many a fine lady has gone there to
drink the waters without being sick, and many a man has complained of
the loss of his heart who has had it in his own possession. I desire you
will keep yours, for I shall not be very fond of a friend without one,
and I have a great mind you should be in the number of mine."
JOHN GAY TO THE HON. MRS HOWARD.
Tunbridge Wells, July 12th, 1723.
"The next pleasure to seeing you is hearing from you, and when I hear
you succeed in your wishes I succeed in mine--so I will not say a word
more of the house.
"We have a young lady, Mary Jennings, here that is very particular in
her desires. I have known some ladies who, if ever they prayed and
were sure their prayers would prevail, would ask an equipage, a title,
a husband or matadores; but this lady, who is but seventeen and has
but thirty thousand pounds, places all her wishes in a pot of good
ale. When her friends, for the sake of her shape and complexion, would
dissuade her from it, she answers, with the truest sincerity, that by
the loss of shape and complexion she can only lose a husband, but that
ale is her passion. I have not as yet drank with her, though I must
own I cannot help being fond of a lady who has so little disguise of
her practice, either in her words or appearance. If to show you love
her you must drink with her she has chosen an ill place for followers,
for she is forbid with the waters. Her shape is not very unlike a
barrel, and I would describe her eyes, if I could look over the
agreeable swellings of her cheeks, in which the rose predominates; nor
can I perceive the least of the lily in her whole countenance. You see
what £30,000 can do, for without that I could never have discovered
all these agreeable particularities. In short, she is the _ortolan_,
or rather _wheat-ear_, of the place, for she is entirely a lump of
fat; and the form of the universe itself is scarce more beautiful, for
her figure is almost circular. After I have said all this, I believe
it will be in vain for me to declare I am not in love, and I am afraid
that I have showed some imprudence in talking upon this subject, since
you have declared that you like a friend that has a heart in his
disposal. I assure you I am not mercenary and that £30,000 have not
half so much power with me as the woman I love."
THE HON. MRS. HOWARD TO JOHN GAY.
Richmond Lodge, July 22nd, 1723.
"I have taken some days to consider of your _wheat-ear_, but I find I
can no more approve of your having a passion for that, than I did of
your turning parson. But if ever you will take the one, I insist upon
your taking the other; they ought not to be parted; they were made
from the beginning for each other. But I do not forbid you to get the
best intelligence of the ways, manners and customs of this wonderful
_phenomène_, how it supports the disappointment of bad ale, and what
are the consequences to the full enjoyment of her luxury? I have some
thoughts of taking a hint from the ladies of your acquaintance who
pray for matadores, and turn devotees for luck at ombre, for I have
already lost above £100 since I came to Richmond.
"I do not like to have you too passionately fond of everything that
has no disguise. I (that am grown old in Courts) can assure you
sincerity is so very unthriving that I can never give consent that you
should practise it, excepting to three or four people that I think may
deserve it, of which number I am. I am resolved that you shall open a
new scene of behaviour next winter and begin to pay in coin your debts
of fair promises. I have some thoughts of giving you a few loose hints
for a satire, and if you manage it right, and not indulge that foolish
good-nature of yours, I do not question but I shall see you in good
employment before Christmas."
JOHN GAY TO THE HON. MRS. HOWARD.
Tunbridge Wells, August, 1723.
"I have long wished to be able to put in practice that valuable worldly
qualification of being insincere. One of my chief reasons is that I hate
to be particular, and I think if a man cannot conform to the customs of
the world, he is not fit to be encouraged or to live in it. I know that,
if one would be agreeable to men of dignity one must study to imitate
them, and I know which way they get money and places. I cannot indeed
wonder that the talents requisite for a great statesman are so scarce in
the world, since so many of those who possess them are every month cut
off in the prime of their life at the Old Bailey.
"Another observation I have made upon courtiers is that if you have any
friendship with any particular one, you must be entirely governed by his
friendship and resentments, not your own; you are not only to flatter
him but those that he flatters, and, if he chances to take a fancy to
any man whom you know that he knows to have the talents of a statesman,
you are immediately to think both of them men of the most exact honour.
In short, you must think nothing dishonest or dishonourable that is
required of you, because, if you know the world, you must know that no
statesman has or ever will require anything of you that is dishonest or
dishonourable.
"Then you must suppose that all statesmen, and your friend in particular
(for statesmen's friends have always seemed to think so) have been, are,
and always will be guided by strict justice, and are quite void of
partiality and resentment. You are to believe that he never did or can
propose any wrong thing, for whoever has it in his power to dissent from
a statesman, in any one particular, is not capable of his friendship.
This last word, friendship, I have been forced to make use of several
times, though I know that I speak improperly, for it has never been
allowed a Court term. This is some part of a Court creed, though it is
impossible to fix all the articles, for as men of dignity believe one
thing one day and another the next, so you must daily change your faith
and opinion; therefore the mood to please these wonderful and mighty men
is never to declare in the morning what you believe until your friend
has declared what he believes--for one mistake this way is utter
destruction.
"I hope these few reflections will convince you that I know something of
the art of pleasing great men. I have strictly examined most favourites
that I have known, and think I judge right, that almost all of them have
practised most of these rules on their way to preferment. I cannot
wonder that great men require all this from their creatures, since most
of them have practised it themselves, or else they had never arrived to
their dignities.
"As to your advice that you give me in relation to preaching and
marrying and ale, I like it extremely, for this lady [Mary Jennings]
must be born to be a parson's wife, and I never will think of marrying
her till I have preached my first sermon. She was last night at a
private ball--so private that not one man knew it till it was over, so
that Mrs. Carr was disturbed at her lodgings by only a dozen ladies, who
danced together without the least scandal.
"I fancy I shall not stay here much longer, though what will become of
me I know not, for I have not, and fear never shall have, a will of my
own."
THE HON. MRS. HOWARD TO JOHN GAY.
August, 1723.
"After you have told me that you hate writing letters, it would be very
ungrateful not to thank you for so many as you have written for me.
Acting contrary to one's inclinations, for the service of those one
likes, is a strong proof of friendship; yet, as it is painful, it ought
never to be exacted but in case of great necessity. As such I look upon
that correspondence in which I have engaged you.
"Perhaps you think I treat you very oddly, that while I own myself
afraid of a man of wit [Lord Peterborough] and make that a pretence to
ask your assistance, I can write to you myself without any concern; but
do me justice and believe it is that I think it requires something more
than wit to deserve esteem. So it is less uneasy for me to write to you
than to the other, for I should fancy I purchased the letters I received
(though very witty) at too great an expense, if at the least hazard of
having my real answers exposed.
"The enclosed[10] will discover that I did not make use of every
argument with which you had furnished me; but I had a reason, of which I
am not at this time disposed to make you a judge. Conquest is the last
thing a woman cares to resign; but I should be very sorry to have you in
the desperate state of my _Knight-errant_. No! I would spare you, out
of self-interest, to secure to me those I have made by your assistance."
THE HON. MRS. HOWARD TO JOHN GAY.
August 22nd [1723].
"I am very much pleased to find you are of my opinion. I have always
thought that the man who will be nothing but a man of wit oftener
disobliges than entertains the company. There is nothing tries our
patience more than that person who arrogantly is ever showing his
superiority over the company he is engaged in. He and his fate I think
very like the woman whose whole ambition is only to be handsome. _She_
is in continual care about her own charms and neglects the world; and
_he_ is always endeavouring to be more witty than all the world, which
makes them both disagreeable companions.
"The warmth with which I attack wit will, I am afraid, be thought to
proceed from the same motive which makes the old and ugly attack the
young and handsome; but if you examine well all those of the character
I have mentioned you will find they are generally but pretenders to
either wit or beauty, and in justification of myself I can say, and
that with great sincerity, I respect wit with judgment, and beauty
with humility, whenever I meet it.
"I have sent the enclosed[11] and desire an answer. I make no more
apologies, for I take you to be in earnest; but if you can talk of
sincerity without having it, I am glad it is in my power to punish
you, for sincerity is not only the favourite expression of my
knight-errant, but it is my darling virtue.
"If I agree with you, that wit is very seldom to be found in
sincerity, it is because I think neither wit nor sincerity is often
found; but daily experience shows us it is want of wit, and not too
much, makes people insincere."
[Footnote 1: Paul Methuen (1672-1757), diplomatist; Comptroller of the
Household 1720-1725; K.B., 1725.]
[Footnote 2: _Lives of the Poets_ (ed. Hill), III, p. 273.]
[Footnote 3: _B.M._, Add. MSS., 28275, f. 8.]
[Footnote 4: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVI, p. 385.]
[Footnote 5: George William, born November 2nd, 1717, died February 6th,
1722.]
[Footnote 6: _Works_ (ed. Elwin and Courthope), VII, p. 422.]
[Footnote 7: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVI, 390.]
[Footnote 8: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVI, p. 398.]
[Footnote 9: Swift: _Works_ (ed. Scott), XVI, p. 297.]
[Footnote 10: Probably a letter from Lord Peterborough to Mrs. Howard.]
[Footnote 11: Probably a copy of a letter from Mrs. Howard to Lord
Peterborough].