This publisher had a peculiar way of expressing his decided and peremptory rejection of any work proposed to him, and this was by one of those Sardonic grins above-mentioned, which was succeeded by a sort of sneering laugh. It was not necessary, indeed it would have been perfectly useless, to have urged the matter further. He would hardly condescend to assign motives; this was the sign of his condemnation. He was an honest man; there was a consistency in his principles and conduct which claimed respect. In adherence to these he was exposed to losses, great personal sacrifices, and personal sufferings. But on this subject enough has been said. Let us turn now to the Finical Bookseller.
Finical he certainly was and very finical too, but he had many good points about him, and independent of the peculiar interests of his profession, had a taste for literature, and a friendly disposition towards literary men. Unluckily he had a bit of blood in him, and the consciousness of this rare distinction elevated him somewhat above the trade, among whom, however, he possessed a considerable influence and ascendency. Our friend formed a connection with him, of no mean importance, nor does he appear to have had any just cause of complaint, either with respect to his sagacity or liberality. On the occasion of their first introduction to each other, our bookseller appears to have given demonstrative testimony of both the above qualities. The undertaking proposed to his consideration, was one of no very limited extent, requiring, on the part of the author, continued labour and perseverance, and promising the publisher a tardy sale, remote advantages, and requiring, moreover, the immediate advance of no small sum of money.
In behalf of the publisher’s liberality it may be more immediately and forcibly urged, that the author was at that time an obscure, unpatronized, young man, who had given no remarkable testimony of more than common learning, and ordinary abilities. Nevertheless a mutual confidence was inspired, and the work proceeded to its successful conclusion. Till this conclusion there was no interruption of that harmony and friendship, with which the undertaking was commenced; but on this occasion the poor author, for the first time, experienced that though self might be a very honest fellow, ready to fulfil his engagements to the very letter, “partner and self” made a prodigious alteration in the matter, and threatened the compact with premature dissolution.
This same partner had not been regularly bred to the business, and indeed knew but little of the matter, but he had the money; and though he expressed the most complacent satisfaction with the undertaking itself, and great confidence in its successful execution, when he found that it must of necessity be extended beyond the limits originally proposed, he took, or pretended to take alarm, and to understand that the sum first agreed upon, was to cover all damages; in other words, that the poor author was to receive no compensation for his extra labour on two additional volumes. The matter was, however, compromised, and the parties brought their opus magnum to a desirable termination.
Let it not by any means be understood, that by the epithet Finical, as here applied, any disrespect is intended, or unkind feeling indulged, with respect to the individual thus imperfectly delineated. His coxcombry was of a very harmless kind, and consisted principally in his adroit and whimsical exercise of his snuff-box. It was observed on particular occasions, in his fondness of conversing about his family, and above all, in his assumed consequential importance and gestures, when any thing very rare and choice passed through his hand, which indeed was often the case.
Come we now to the opulent Bookseller.—Our friend’s connection with this personage was but slight, and rather amounting to a skirmish about terms, than to any serious engagement. The house of which this bookseller was the head, had been singularly fortunate in their purchases of copy-right, and there were certain books of which they were the sole proprietors, and of which a large impression was annually called for, and which thus entailed a perpetual and hereditary opulence upon the establishment.
Among the authors, of whose works they were the publishers, were numbers of the Great, and Rich, and Powerful, from many of whom they had obtained the reputation of being very liberal. But let it be remembered, that the sum which appears considerable, when paid as a remuneration to Noble or Episcopal gentlemen, who write for amusement only, becomes relatively small, when apportioned to an author by profession, whose comforts and conveniences of life are obtained principally by the labour of his brains.
With this latter description of writers, this opulent personage had a great deal more to do, and with such he invariably attempted to drive a hard bargain. Our friend once, it appears, was about to enter into an engagement with him, of no inconsiderable magnitude: great labour and perseverance were required on one part, with the employment of three years at least, whilst a scanty and parsimonious remuneration was held out by the other. However, as the intellectual powers were then in full vigour, the ardour of literary ambition progressively increasing, and what perhaps had no small weight, a number of little people incessantly crying out for “Crowdy,” the terms, though hard, were acceded to. A professional gentleman was employed to draw up the agreement, and a time was fixed for the signatures of the different parties. But when the agreement was produced, the reader may guess the Sexagenarian’s astonishment, at perceiving a clause of which no warning had been given, purporting, that if any other publication, or rather translation, of the same work, should appear before the final completion and printing of the present, then the agreement was to be null and void.
A most notable example of liberality truly! A poor author was to beat his brains, confine himself to one arduous labour for two years or more, and then if a similar work, no matter whence or where, should steal from its retirement on the eve of the publication of that in question, there was to be no compensation, acknowledgment, or reward, for so much time irretrievably lost. It cannot be a matter of wonder, that the poor author left the worshipful bookseller in disgust, (for worshipful he afterwards became) and never afterwards sought a renewal of his acquaintance.