The Chapter which is now about to succeed, is to us incomprehensible.
It is literally transcribed from the manuscript, and the reader is at
liberty to make what he can of it.
“Pray my dear, addressing myself in a very soft tone to “the Lady,” when
will it be convenient for you to suffer me to invite a select party of
brother authors, to partake of a humble repast?
Whom in particular do you wish to ask?
You know all my literary friends and connections, and I think I cannot do
better than to leave the selection to yourself.
Well then I have no objection, provided you do not invite the RICH AUTHOR.
Whom is it you mean?
I am surprized at your dullness. Pray are there many rich authors?
Certainly not.
Well, then, I mean that man who, because he has a great command of money,
and has written some trifling pieces of poetry, assumes great personal
importance, and crosses on the other side to avoid the salutation of men
far superior to himself in genius and learning, who having heard from one
of your old poets, that I have heard you talk about, that they who drink
water can never produce a good poem, conceives himself to be a solitary
exception, and that the pure stream of Helicon is reserved exclusively
for him.
Enough, my dear, the Rich Author shall not break bread with us.
Neither would I have you ask the NOBLE AUTHOR. Him, I mean, who is
certainly possessed of great intellectual powers, and a peculiar turn for
a certain line of poetry; but whose bad passions so perpetually insinuate
themselves in every thing which he writes, that it is hardly possible to
escape the injury of his venom, and scarcely worth while to separate the
gold from the dross. His volatile mind thinks it an act of manliness to
sneer at religion, and if on any occasion provoked to resentment, his
malignity becomes fury, and there is no object either too high or too low
upon which he does not vent his rancour.
Agreed—neither shall he eat our salt.
On no account send an invitation to the VAIN AUTHOR.
I fear too many of my brethren fall under that denomination; but whom is
it that you more particularly wish to except?
I mean him to whom I very willingly concede the most perfect good-nature,
the most friendly disposition and no mean portion of ability. But,
indeed, my dear friend, he is so tiresome with his long eternal stories,
that he imposes a restraint upon that variety of conversation which is
the great charm of an amicable meeting. I have no other fault to find
with him. I would rather however have him, than the POMPOUS AUTHOR.
I do not immediately comprehend to whom you allude.
To whom can I allude but to that big man who, you all agree, could have
done so much, and has actually done so little. Who upon ten pages of
letter press hangs a large volume of notes; whose political creed always
obtruded, has been at perpetual war with his real interests; and whose
style delights so in antithesis, that it seems to himself imperfect
without it; who delivers his opinions with a sort of pedagogical
authority, and brow-beats those whom he is unable to confute; who has
wasted much of his time and talent in individual disputation, and at a
considerably advanced period of life, finds that from some cause or
other he has made but little progress towards that rank, in which, as far
as talents, improved by much and deep learning, are concerned, he might,
by the easy restraint or chastisement of his opinions, have enlightened
and adorned society.
But my dear child your negative catalogue is so extensive that I begin to
fear I shall not make up a party.
Oh yes you may, but for heaven’s sake do not let us have the BLAND AUTHOR.
Bless me, whom can you mean?
Nay, nay, you know well enough—Whom can I possibly mean but that eternal
writer of poetry, who composes verses upon every trifling incident which
occurs in the circles of fashion; prints whatever he composes, and
recites them gratuitously both before and afterwards; whose collected
works would fill half your library, but if they had been compelled to
keep their peace nine years, would, in all probability, have never spoken
at all. Who, if—
Stop, stop, I entreat you, look on the other side of the picture, and
candidly allow that a better tempered creature never breathed; kind,
benevolent, and friendly; and whatever may be your opinion, allowed by
most people to possess an excellent memory, happy articulation, and no
inconsiderable portion of taste. However, we will ask him on some other
occasion.
But my dear have you any other exceptions to make?
No I think not—Yes, yes, I would on no account have that DULL AUTHOR.
Now, my good child, you are entirely incomprehensible, or rather perhaps
you mean delicately to intimate that I am not to have my meditated
Symposium. Have not all authors their intervals of dullness? Has not
Homer himself been accused of occasionally nodding? Well, but to whom do
you immediately look?
Why to that bonny man who has printed as many thick quartos as would
outweigh himself, comprehending etymology, criticism, politics,
geography, antiquity, poetry, nay, the whole circle of the sciences. I
have no particular, and certainly not any personal, objection to his
society, but as you do me the favour to admit me of your parties, I
think it would be possible to find an individual of better conversation
talents, of more interesting, if not of more diversified information.
See how it is—Whilst we have been deliberating about whom we shall invite
to our party, without fixing even upon one, the whole morning has slipped
away, and I have a particular engagement with my bookseller. We will talk
the matter over again to-morrow, and I hope you will then be prepared to
determine upon a few at least, from whose society we may derive mutual
gratification. I fear we shall agree but on a few, for our board is small
and our taste fastidious.
One thing has occurred this morning which will prevent my inviting
the BIGOT AUTHOR. You know his religious creed, and with that we have
no right to interfere; but a friend of his lately though of the same
persuasion, sent his son as a student to Trinity College, Cambridge. The
alarm was spread throughout the sect, and the Bigot Author was deputed
to remonstrate, first on the impropriety of the thing itself, and, above
all, on the very gross and obvious offence to the society, in confiding
the main branch of so distinguished a member to the possible influence of
a seminary bearing so odious an appellation as that of TRINITY.”
Οποτε ους ταυτα και τα τοιαυτα ηκουες, εωρων οπως εκεχηνεις
προς αυτα, και πανυ σφοδρα προς δελεαρ αναπηπταμενον παρειχες
το στομα.