"The poems have not yet sold much, but I cannot say how many are
disposed of. All the old poetry-buyers seem to be dead, and the new
ones have no taste for it."
And now for a time Clare eked out his scanty income by writing poems
for the annuals, the silk-bound illustrated favourites of fashion,
which for ten or twelve years almost sufficed to satisfy the languid
appetite of the English public for poetry. Clare was sought after by
several editors; among the rest, Allan Cunningham, editor of the
"Anniversary;" Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, who severally conducted the
"Amulet" and the "Juvenile Forget-me-not." Alaric A. Watts, editor of
the "Literary Souvenir;" Thomas Hood, and others. "The Rural Muse,"
the last volume which Clare published, was composed almost entirely
of poems which had appeared in the annuals, or other periodicals. The
remuneration which Clare received was respectable, if not munificent.
His kind-hearted Scotch friend, Allan Cunningham, was certain to see
that he was treated with liberality: Mrs. Hall, on behalf of Messrs.
Ackermann, sent him in October, 1828, three guineas for "The
Grasshopper," and in the following month Mr. Hall wrote "Enclosed you
will receive L5, for your contributions to the 'Amulet' and the
'Juvenile Forget-Me-Not.' I am however still L2 in your debt, L7
being the sum I have set apart for you. How shall I forward you the
remaining L2?" Mr. Alaric Watts frequently importuned Clare for
contributions for the "Literary Souvenir" and the "Literary Magnet,"
but he was exceedingly fastidious and plain-spoken, and although he
sent Clare presents of books he never said in his letters anything
about payment. At length Clare hinted to him that some acknowledgment
of that kind would be acceptable, and then Mr. Watts replied, "I have
no objection to make you some pecuniary return if you send me any
poem worthy of yourself, but really those you have sent me of late
are so very inferior, with the exception of a little drinking song,
which I shall probably print, that it would do you no service to
insert them." This appears to have closed the correspondence.
A sketch of Clare's life would be incomplete which did not notice the
subject of his relations with his publishers. His first two works--
"Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery" and "The Village
Minstrel"--were published conjointly by Messrs. Taylor and Hessey and
Mr. Drury, of Stamford, on the understanding that Clare was to
receive one half of the profits, and that the London and local
publishers should divide the remaining half of the profits between
them. Before the publication of the third work--the "Shepherd's
Calendar"--an arrangement was come to by which Mr. Drury ceased to
have any interest in Clare's books, and the London firm renewed the
agreement which gave Clare one half of the profits. It was the
practice of Taylor and Hessey to remit to Clare money on account, in
sums of L10 or L20, and evidently at their own discretion--a
discretion which, considering Clare's position and circumstances,
appears to have been wisely and considerately exercised. Added
together, these remittances made, for a person in Clare's condition,
a considerable sum of money, but the poet fretted and chafed under
the want of confidence in his judgement which he thought was implied
by this mode of treatment, and he repeatedly applied to Taylor and
Hessey for a regular and businesslike statement of account. During
the time Mr. Drury had a pecuniary interest in the sale of Clare's
books, the London publishers excused themselves from furnishing an
account on the ground that it had been complicated by Mr. Drury's
claims, but years passed away after the latter had been arranged
with, and still the rendering of the account was postponed. This
irritated Clare, and he frequently spoke and wrote of his publishers
with a degree of bitterness which he afterwards regretted. His
suspicions, for which there was no real foundation, were at one time
encouraged rather than otherwise by influential friends in London,
and therefore in February, 1828, he resolved to take another journey
to Town, with the two-fold object of having a settlement with his
publishers and consulting Dr. Darling respecting a distressing
ailment with which he was then afflicted.
"My dear and suffering Clare," wrote Mrs. Emmerson at this time,
"your painful letter of to-day is no sooner read by me than I take up
my pen, and an extra-sized sheet of paper, to pour out the regrets of
my heart for your illness. God knows I am little able to give thee
'comfort,' for indeed, my Clare, thy friend is a beggar in
philosophy, so heavily have the ills of humanity pressed upon her of
late; but such 'comfort' as confiding and sympathizing souls can
offer do I give in full to thee. Receive it then, my poor Clare, and
let the utterings of my pen (which instead of gloomy ink I would dip
into the sweet balm of Gilead for thy afflictions) prove again and
again thy 'physician.' Forget not what you told me in your former
letter: 'your letters come over my melancholy musings like the dews
of the morning. I am already better, and you are my physician.' Now,
my dear Clare, let me, instead of listening to, or rather acting upon
your melancholy forebodings, entreat you to cheer up, and in the
course of another week make up a little bundle of clothes, and set
yourself quietly inside the Deeping coach for London. I will get your
'sky chamber' ready to receive you, or my niece Eliza shall yield to
you her lower apartment, the blue room. We can then, 'in council
met,' talk over wills, and new volumes of poems, and all other
worldly matters relating to yourself, myself, and posterity."