In other words, we are preparing to conduct our reader to the metropolis,
there to associate with the demi-gods of genius, learning, wit, and taste.
How circumscribed is man’s foresight! How impotent his sagacity! At
a moment, when an individual, delineated in a preceding part of this
narrative, was sitting with the Sexagenarian, both of them lamenting the
narrow circle, the obscure, unpalatable, and unprofitable offices, to
which their ill stars had apparently doomed them “for ever and for aye,”
an express brought an alluring invitation to a permanent and advantageous
situation in
The fairest Capital of all the world.
In a few passing days, nay, almost in a few hours, what a change of
scene!!
Retirement properly so called, for busy scenes and active employments;
from a space in which there was not room for ambition, to one where
ambition appeared to have no limit; from a spot where a few wild flowers
occasionally charmed the sight with their beauty, and the senses with
their fragrance, to the prolific and auspicious nursery of every science
and every art; from knowing every body, to knowing nobody; from ⸺ to
London!!
Here let us take time to breathe awhile. He who for the first time in his
life leaves the white cliffs of Dover, on an excursion to France, on his
landing at Calais, is for a few moments bewildered with the strangeness,
the novelty, the wonderful change of the scene. He feels as if he was
removed to another planet. The language, the dress, the manners, every
thing he beholds, dazzles and confounds him: till at length reflection
and judgment resume their influence, and experience makes the contrast
familiar. Such was, and such, under similar circumstances, will ever be,
the first periods of residence in London, after a long familiarity with
the quiet, repose, and ordinary pursuits of the country.
The first impression, the first subject of reflection, the
first determination, was that from which there was never any
deviation—LITERATURE. A noble field opened its expanded bosom to
emulation, exertion, honour, and reward. But how was an obscure, unknown
individual, without connection, introduction, or seeming opportunity of
any, to surmount the difficulties, perplexities, and intricacies, which
threatened to obstruct his path, and interrupt his progress? Patience and
perseverance finally succeeded, and over what opposition will not these
qualities triumph?
The first necessary and indeed indispensable step was to form literary
connections; but this was by no means found difficult. Similar
propensities and endowments soon discover one another, and induce
frequent and familiar association. Generally speaking, in London at
least, there is great liberality among literary men, a ready disposition
to interchange communications, which may be mutually useful, to
accommodate one another with the loan of books, to point out sources of
information, indeed to carry on, by a sort of common treaty among one
another, a pleasant, friendly, and profitable commerce.
One material assistance in forming and cementing literary intercourse,
is presented at book-auctions; another, and still a better, occurs in
the shops of eminent booksellers. The few old fellows that are yet left,
chuckle at the recollection of the numerous and cheerful meetings which
used to take place at honest Tom Payne’s, at the Mews Gate, and at Peter
Elmsley’s, in the Strand.
In these places of resort, at a certain period of the afternoon, a
wandering scholar, in search of Pabulum, might be almost certain of
meeting Cracherode, George Steevens, Malone, Windham, Lord Stormont, Sir
John Hawkins, Lord Spencer, Porson, Burney, Mr. T. Grenville, Wakefield,
Bishop (then Dean) Dampier, King of Mansfield-street, Townley, Col.
Stanley, and various other bookish men.
Honest Tom Payne! and well indeed did he deserve the name so universally
bestowed upon him, and happily and effectually has he entailed it on
his successor, than whom a worthier character does not exist. He who
willingly pays this tribute, does it from the experience of almost forty
years.
The earliest literary efforts are almost always of the same kind. The
first productions are most probably poetical, but soon, very soon, the
ardour of immortalizing “the tangles of Neæra’s hair” subsides, and gives
place to austerer studies, and more elaborate pursuits. This is more
particularly the case, if the _olive branches_ should multiply apace,
and two puddings are found necessary to smoke upon the board. After
poetry is in some degree gone by, as every young author dearly loves to
see himself in print, the next display of talent or erudition, is made
in the periodical publications of the day. In this particular path,
old Sylvanus Urban has been found exceedingly commodious, and many a
maiden pen, which has subsequently been entitled to have its letters
wreathed with laurels, has first of all inked itself in his pages. If
the propensity shall lead to politics, the popular journals of the day
are invitingly ready to enlist the zeal of youthful authorship. But the
appetite of literary reputation progressively increases, nor will it
finally be satisfied, till it fancies at least that it has established
some monumental column, “_ære perennius_.”
Camœnarum decus
Exemplar unum in literis
Quas aut Athenis docta coluit Græcia
Aut Roma per Latium colit.