“Something in the style of Herder?”
“Herder is a drug, sir; nobody cares for Herder—thanks to my good friend. Sir, I have in yon drawer a hundred pages about Herder, which I dare not insert in my periodical; it would sink it, sir. No, sir, something in the style of the ‘Dairyman’s Daughter.’”
“I never heard of the work till the present moment.”
“Then, sir, procure it by all means. Sir, I could afford as much as ten pounds for a well-written tale in the style of the ‘Dairyman’s Daughter;’ that is the kind of literature, sir, that sells at the present day! It is not the Miller of the Black Valley—no, sir, nor Herder either, that will suit the present taste; the evangelical body is becoming very strong, sir; the canting scoundrels—”
“But, sir, surely you would not pander to a scoundrelly taste?”
“Then, sir, I must give up business altogether. Sir, I have a great respect for the goddess Reason—an infinite respect, sir; indeed, in my time, I have made a great many sacrifices for her; but, sir, I cannot altogether ruin myself for the goddess Reason. Sir, I am a friend to Liberty, as is well known; but I must also be a friend to my own family. It is with the view of providing for a son of mine that I am about to start the review of which I am speaking. He has taken into his head to marry, sir, and I must do something for him, for he can do but little for himself. Well, sir, I am a friend to Liberty, as I said before, and likewise a friend to Reason; but I tell you frankly that the Review which I intend to get up under the rose, and present him with when it is established, will be conducted on Oxford principles.”
“Orthodox principles, I suppose you mean, sir?”
“I do, sir; I am no linguist, but I believe the words are synonymous.”
Much more conversation passed between us, and it was agreed that I should become a contributor to the Oxford Review. I stipulated, however, that, as I knew little of politics, and cared less, no other articles should be required from me than such as were connected with belles-lettres and philology; to this the big man readily assented. “Nothing will be required from you,” said he, “but what you mention;
and now and then, perhaps, a paper on metaphysics. You understand German, and perhaps it would be desirable that you should review Kant; and in a review of Kant, sir, you could introduce to advantage your peculiar notions about ex nihilo.” He then reverted to the subject of the “Dairyman’s Daughter,” which I promised to take into consideration. As I was going away, he invited me to dine with him on the ensuing Sunday.