The publication of Clare's new volume, arranged for the spring of 1821,
gave rise to some difficulties as the time grew near. It was the
intention of his publishers to bring out the work with some artistic
embellishments, including a portrait of the author and a sketch of his
home; to both which Clare had certain objections, as far as the execution
of the task was concerned. On the other hand, Messrs. Taylor and Hessey
wished to exclude some of Clare's poems, which they did not think quite
as good as the rest, under the pretence that they had already more than
sufficient in hand to make a strong volume; but this again was opposed by
the author, who sent in his ultimatum to print all his verses or none.
The difficulty might have been easily arranged by Mr. Gilchrist, with his
great influence both over Clare and his publishers, but he,
unfortunately, was over head and ears in trouble, and had no time to
attend to the perplexities of others. Mr. Gilchrist, in the summer of
1820, had the misfortune of being dragged into the great quarrel of the
Rev. William Lisle Bowles, the editor of Pope, with Byron, Campbell, and
the 'Quarterly Review;' a battle of the windmills which occupied the
literary world of England for several years. Having despatched the chief
of his big foes, the Rev. Mr. Bowles thought fit to turn round upon Mr.
Gilchrist, whom he held to be the author of a severe article in the
'Quarterly.' This was not the case; nevertheless, Mr. Gilchrist took up
the cudgels, striking out with all the impetus so much in vogue among the
pen-wielding celebrities of the time. From the 'Quarterly'--too
Jupiter-like to be long detained by street rows--the quarrel was
transferred to the pages of the 'London Magazine,' where abundant space
was allowed to both Mr. Gilchrist and the Rev. Mr. Bowles to fight out
their battles. The great question was whether Mr. Bowles had done justice
to the character of Pope, or drawn the figure of his hero in too hard
outlines; and as there was much to be said on either side, the articles
grew longer every month, and the spirit of the combatants became more and
more embittered. The conflagration got general through a flaring
pamphlet, 'by one of the family of the Bowles's,' and for a year or two
the air was filled with squibs, flysheets, articles, and reviews, for and
against Bowles. What with his grocery business at Stamford, and his
multifarious literary engagements, poor Mr. Gilchrist fairly lost his
head in the midst of this thunderstorm, and was unable to think of
anything else but Bowles and Pope, and Pope and Bowles. Clare happening
to visit him one day, when musing on this all-absorbing subject, he tried
to inspire him with a sense of the wrongs he had suffered at the hands of
the Rev. William Lisle Bowles; but meeting with utter apathy, Mr.
Gilchrist turned in disgust from his poetic friend, shocked at his
callousness. As a sort of revenge, on being appealed to for his aid in
settling the difficulty between his friend and Messrs. Taylor and Hessey,
he declared that he had no time to attend to the matter. This was
certainly true, for the din of the great Bowles battles kept raging in
the air and the pages of the 'London Magazine' for nigh another year.
After some lengthened correspondence between Clare and his publishers, it
was arranged that the new work should be brought out in two volumes in
the summer of 1821. This made it possible to give the whole of the poems,
and to finish the engravings with the care desired by the author. In the
meanwhile, to keep Clare before the public, specimens of the forthcoming
volume were published at intervals in Mr. Taylor's periodical, and,
finally, the September number of the 'London Magazine' contained at the
head of the list of 'works preparing for publication,' the announcement
that 'The Village Minstrel, and other Poems, by John Clare, the
Northamptonshire Peasant, with a fine portrait, will be published in a
few days.' The work was published accordingly, in the middle of
September. In outward appearance, the two new volumes offered a great
contrast to Clare's former book. The 'Poems descriptive of Rural Life and
Scenery,' were dressed in more than rustic simplicity; stitched in rough
cardboard and printed on coarse paper, with no artistic adornments
whatever. On the other hand, the 'Village Minstrel' presented itself in
beautiful type, with two fine steel engravings, the first a portrait of
Clare, from the painting by William Hilton, R.A. and the latter a sketch
of his cottage. Notwithstanding all these attractions, the new work met
with but a cold reception. It was accounted for by the publishers in the
fact that its price, 12_s_., was too high compared with the former
volume, which was sold at 5_s_. 6_d_.; but the real cause undoubtedly was
that the time of publication was very unfavourable. It was a period when
the English book-mart was overstocked with poetry and fiction, and when
the world seemed less than ever inclined to devote itself to poetry and
fiction. The year 1821, in fact, formed a notable epoch in the annals of
literature for the number of productions from celebrated authors. Sir
Walter Scott published 'Kenilworth Castle;' Lord Byron issued his tragedy
of 'Marino Faliero;' Southey, his 'Vision of Judgment;' Shelley, his
'Prometheus,' and Wordsworth a new edition of his poems. Besides these
giants in the field of literature, numerous stars of the second and third
magnitude sent forth their light. Charles Lamb, Hazlitt, Barry Cornwall,
Tom Moore, Allan Cunningham, Leigh Hunt, and others, were busy writing
and publishing, and John Keats sent his swan-song from the tombs of the
Eternal City. In the midst of this galaxy of genius and fame, John Clare
stood, in a sense, neglected and forlorn. The very reputation of his
first book was against him, for most of his friends were unreasoning and
uncritical enough to assert that the 'Poems on Rural Life and Scenery,'
were less remarkable as poetic works, than as productions of a very poor
and illiterate man. This statement was echoed far and wide, with the
necessary result of getting 'the Northamptonshire Peasant' looked upon as
but a nine-days' wonder. Quite as fatal to Clare's fame as a poet were
the loud appeals made on his behalf for pecuniary assistance. There was,
and, indeed, is at all times, an instinctive feeling, in the main a just
one, among the public, that genius and talent are self-supporting, and
that he who cannot live by the exercise of his own hand or brain, does
not altogether deserve success. The feeling was even stronger than usual
about this period, because of the repeated announcements of fabulous sums
earned by book-makers, including the notoriously helpless poets. It was
well known that Sir Walter Scott had made a large fortune by his verses
and novels; that Moore got £3,000 for his 'Lalla Rookh,' and Crabbe
£2,000 for his 'Tales of the Hall;' that Southey had no reason to be
dissatisfied with the pecuniary result of his epics and articles, nor Mr.
Millman cause to weep over the 'Fall of Jerusalem.' There were rumours
even, embodied in sly newspaper paragraphs, that Mr. Murray was paying
Lord Byron at the rate of a guinea a word; though this was disputed by
others, who asserted that the remuneration was only five shillings a
syllable. However, all these reports had led the public to the not unjust
conclusion, that booksellers, on the whole, are no bad patrons of
literature, and that the reward of genius might be safely left to them.
As a consequence, from the moment that the begging-box was sent round for
Clare--sent round, too, with a zeal far surpassing discretion--there
arose a latent feeling among readers of books, that 'the Northamptonshire
peasant' was not so much a poet as a talented pauper, able to string a
few rhymes together. The feeling, for a time, was not outspoken; but
nevertheless unmistakeable in its results.
The sale of the 'Village Minstrel and other Poems,' was not large at the
commencement, and the book was scarcely noticed by the literary
periodicals of the day. Though containing verses far surpassing in beauty
anything previously published by Clare, the work passed over the heads of
critics and public alike as unworthy of consideration. It drew passing
notes of praise from a few genuine admirers of poetry; but which resulted
in nothing but a couple of letters to the author, and the present of some
cheap books. From one of these letters, it appears that the ballad
commencing 'I love thee, sweet Mary,' printed in the first volume of the
'Village Minstrel,' was read one evening at the house of a nobleman at
the West End of London, before the assembled guests. All were in raptures
about the sweetness of the softly-flowing stream of verse, and all
inquired eagerly after the author. But there was but one person in the
room who knew anything about him; and his whole knowledge consisted in
the fact, told somewhere by somebody, that Clare was a young 'peasant,'
formerly very poor, but now in a state of affluence through a most
liberal subscription fund, amounting to some twenty thousand pounds,
which had been collected for him and invested in the Funds. The news gave
universal satisfaction to the distinguished company; and though none had
contributed a penny to the wonderful subscription list, every guest felt
an inward pride of living in a land offering the bountiful reward of 'the
Funds' to poetic genius, born in obscurity. After the applause had
subsided, the portrait of Clare, prefixed to the 'Village Minstrel,'
passed round the circle of noble West End visitors. All pronounced the
face to be highly _distingué_, and one young lady enthusiastically
declared that John Clare looked 'like a nobleman in disguise.' In which
saying there was a certain amount of truth.
Notwithstanding many unfavourable circumstances, and the ill-considered
zeal of his patrons, who continued to importune the public with demands
for charitable contributions, the coldness with which Clare's new work
was received at its appearance, was really very extraordinary. The
greatest share of it, in all probability, was due to the period of
publication, which could not well have been more ill-timed. Besides the
natural anxiety of a civilized community to read, in preference to cheap
rural poetry, verses paid for at the rate of 'a guinea a word,' or at the
least 'five shillings a syllable,' there were many notable matters
directing public attention away from village minstrelsy to other things.
The book was brought out in the same month that the 'injured Queen of
England' died; that the populace fought for the honour of participating
in the funeral; and that royal lifeguardsmen killed the loyal people like
rabbits in the streets of London. Political passions soared high, and
public indignation was running still higher in newspapers and pamphlets.
It was not to be expected that, at such a moment of universal excitement,
there should be many people willing to withdraw to rural poetry. Thus
Clare, 'piping low, in shade of lowly grove,' was condemned to pipe
unheard, or very nearly so.
A copy of his 'Village Minstrel' Clare sent to Robert Bloomfield, for
whose poetic genius he felt the most sincere admiration. In
acknowledgment he received, about seven months afterwards, the following
characteristic letter:--
'_Shefford, Beds, May 3d, 1822_.
Neighbour John,--If we were still nearer neighbours I would see you, and
thank you personally for the two volumes of your poems sent me so long
ago. I write with such labour and difficulty that I cannot venture to
praise, or discriminate, like a critic, but must only say that you have
given us great pleasure.
I beg your acceptance of my just published little volume; and, sick and
ill as I continually feel, I can join you heartily in your
exclamation--"What is Life?"
With best regards and wishes,