especially the last, since that fool .... rendered
him into English. No, sir, I do not want you to
translate Goethe or anything belonging to him;
nor do I want you to translate anything from the
German; what I want you to do, is to translate
52 GERMAN ACQUIREMENTS. [Ch. V.
into German. I am willing to encourage merit,
sir ; and, as my good friend in his last letter has
spoken very highly of your German acquirements,
I have determined that you shall translate my book
of philosophy into German."
*' Your book of philosophy into German, sir ? "
" Yes, sir ; my book of philosophy into German.
I am not a drug, sir, in Germany as Goethe is
here, no more is my book. I intend to print the
translation at Leipzig, sir; and if it turns out a
profitable speculation, as I make no doubt it will,
provided the translation be well executed, I will
make you some remuneration. Sir, your remu-
neration will be determined by the success of your
" But, sir "
" Sir," said the pubHsher, interrupting me, " you
have heard my intentions; I consider that you
ought to feel yourself highly gratified by my in-
tentions towards you; it is not frequently that I
deal \\dth a writer, especially a young writer, as I
have done with you. And now, sir, permit me to
inform you that I wish to be alone. This is
Ch. v.] MORAL DIGNITY. 53
Sunday afternoon, sir ; I never go to church, but I
am in the habit of spending part of every Sunday
afternoon alone ā profitably I hope, sir ā in musing
on the magnificence of nature and the moral dignity
THE TWO VOLUMES. ā A YOUNG AUTHOR. ā INTENDED EDITOR. QUIN-
TILIAN. ā LOOSE MONET.
" What can't be cured must be endured/' and " it
is bard to kick against the pricks."
At tbe period to wbicb T bave brougbt my bis-
tor}^, I betbougbt me of tbe proverbs witb wbicb I
bave beaded tbis cbapter, and determined to act up
to tbeir spirit. I determined not to fly in tbe face
of tbe publisber, and to bear ā wbat I could not cure
ā bis arrogance and vanity. At present, at tbe
conclusion of nearly a quarter of a century, I am glad
tbat I came to tbat determination, wbicb I did my
best to carry into effect.
Two or tbree days after our last interview, tbe
pubbsber made bis appearance in my apartment;
be bore two tattered volumes under bis arm, wbicb
be placed on tbe table. '^ I bave brougbt you two
volumes of lives, sir," said be, " wbicb I yesterday
Ch. VI.] A YOUNG AUTHOR. 55
found in my garret ; you will find them of service
for your compilation. As I always wish to hehave
liberally and encourage talent, especially youthful
talent, I shall make no charge for them, though I
should be justified in so doing, as you are aware
that, by our agreement, you are to provide any
books and materials which may be necessary. Have
you been in quest of any ? "
" No," said I, '' not yet."
^' Then, sir, I would advise you to lose no time
in doing so ; you must visit all the bookstalls, sir,
especialJy those in the by- streets and blind alleys.
It is in such places that you will find the descrip-
tion of Hterature you are in want of. You must be
up and doing, sir; it will not do for an author,
especially a young author, to be idle in this town.
To-night you will receive my book of philosophy,
and likewise books for the Review. And, by-the-by,
sir, it will be as well for you to review my book of
philosophy for the Eeview; the other reviews not
having noticed it. Sir, before translating it, I wish
you to review my book of philosophy for the Re-
" I shall be happy to do my best, sir."
56 INTENDED EDITOR. [Ch. VI.
"Very good, sir; I should be unreasonable to
expect anything beyond a person's best. And now,
sir, if you please, I will conduct you to the future
editor of the Keview. As you are to co-operate, sir,
I deem it right to make you acquainted."
The intended editor was a Httle old man, who sat
in a kind of wooden paviHon in a small garden be-
hind a house in one of the purHeus of the city, com-
posing tunes upon a piano. The walls of the pa-
vilion were covered with fiddles of various sizes and
appearances, and a considerable portion of the floor
occupied by a pile of books all of one size. The
publisher introduced him to me as a gentleman
scarcely less eminent in literature than in music,
and me to him as an aspirant critic ā a young gentle-
man scarcely less eminent in philosophy than in
philology. The conversation consisted entirely of
compliments till just before we separated, when the
future editor inquired of me whether I had ever
read QuintiUan ; and, on my replying in the nega-
tive, expressed his surprise that any gentleman
should aspire to become a critic who had never
read Quintilian, with the comfortable information,
however, that he could supply me with a Quintilian
Ch. VI.] QUINTILIAN. 57
at half-price, that is, a translation made by himself
some years previously, of which he had, pointing to
the heap on the floor, still a few copies remaining
unsold. For some reason or other, perhaps a poor
one, I did not purchase the editor's translation of
" Sir," said the publisher, as we were return-
ing from our visit to the editor, '* you did right
in not purchasing a drug, I am not prepared,
sir, to say that Quintilian is a drug, never having
seen him; but I am prepared to say that man's
translation is a drug, judging from the heap of rub-
bish on the floor ; besides, sir, you will want any
loose money you may have to purchase the descrip-
tion of Hterature wliich is required for your com-
The pubhsher presently paused before the en-
trance of a very forlorn-looking street. " Sir," said
he, after looking down it with attention, '' I should
not wonder if in that street you find works con-
nected with the description of literature which is
required for your compilation. It is in streets of
this description, sir, and bhnd alleys, where such
68 LOOSE MONEY. [Ch. VI.
works are to be found. You had better search
that street, sir, whilst I continue my way."
I searched the street to which the publisher had
pointed, and, in the course of the three succeeding
days, many others of a similar kind. I did not find
the description of Hterature alluded to by the pub-
lisher to be a drug, but, on the contrary, both scarce
and dear. I had expended much more than my
loose money long before I could procure materials
even for the first volume of my compilation.
FRANCIS ARDRY. CERTAIN SHARPERS. BRAVE AND ELOQUENT.
OPPOSITES. FLINGING THE BONES. STRANGE PLACES. ā DOQ-FIGHT-
ING. ā LEARNING AND LETTERS. ā BATCH OF DOGS. ā REDOUBLED AP-
One evening I was visited by the tall young gen-
tleman, Francis Ardry, whose acquaintance T had
formed at the coffee-house. As it is necessary that
the reader should know something more about this
young man, who will frequently appear in the
course of these pages, I will state in a few words
who and what he was. He was born of an ancient
Roman Catholic family in Ireland; his parents,
whose only child he was, had long been dead. His
father, who had survived his mother several years,
had been a spendthrift, and at his death had
left the family property considerably embarrassed.
Happily, however, the son and the estate fell into
the hands of careful guardians, near relations of
the family, by whom the property was managed to
the best advantage, and every means taken to edu-
60 CERTAIN SHARPERS. [Ch. VII.
cate the young man in a manner suitable to his
expectations. At the age of sixteen he was taken
from a celebrated school in England at which he
had been placed, and sent to a small French uni-
versity, in order that he might form an intimate
and accurate acquaintance with the grand language
of the continent. There he continued three years,
at the end of which he went under the care of a
French abbe to Germany and Italy. It was in
this latter country that he first began to cause his
guardians serious uneasiness. He was in the hey-
day of youth when he visited Italy, and he entered
wildly into the various delights of that fascinating
region, and, what was worse, falhng into the hands
of certain shai-pers, not Italian, but English, he
was fleeced of considerable sums of money. The
abbe, who, it seems, was an excellent individual of
the old French school, remonstrated with his pupil
on liis dissipation and extravagance; but, finding
liis remonstrances vain, very properly informed the
guardians of the manner of life of his charge.
They were not slow in commanding Francis Ardry
home; and, as he was entirely in their power, he
was forced to comply. He had been about tliree
.Ch. VIL] BRAVE AND ELOQUENT. 61
months in London when I met him in the coffee-
room, and the two elderly gentlemen in his com-
pany were his guardians. At this time they were
very solicitous that he should choose for himself a
profession, offering to his choice either the army or
law ā he was calculated to shine in either of these
professions ā for, like many others of liis country-
men, he was hrave and eloquent; hut he did. not
wish to shackle himself with a profession. As,
however, his minority did not terminate till he was
three- and- twenty, of which age he wanted nearly
two years, during which he would be entirely de-
pendent on his guardians, he deemed it expedient
to conceal, to a certain degree, his sentiments, tem-
porising with the old gentlemen, with whom, not-
withstanding his many irregularities, he was a great
favourite, and at whose death he expected to come
into a yet greater property than that which he in-
herited from his parents.
Such is a brief account of Francis Ardry ā of my
friend Francis Ardry; for the acquaintance, com-
menced in the singular manner with which the
reader is acquainted, speedily ripened into a friend-
ship which endured through many long years of
62 OPPOSITES. [Ch. YII.
separation, and which still endures certainly on my
part, and on his ā if he lives ; but it is many years
since I have heard from Francis Ardry.
And yet many people would have thought it im-
possible for our fr'iendship to have lasted a week ā
for in many respects no two people could be more
dissimilar. He was an Irishman ā I, an EngHshman ;
ā he, fiery, enthusiastic, and open-hearted ; ā I, nei-
ther fiery, enthusiastic, nor open-hearted ; ā he, fond
of pleasure and dissipation; ā I, of study and reflec-
tion. Yet it is of such dissimilar elements that the
most lasting friendships are formed : we do not like
counterparts of ourselves. " Two great talkers will
not travel far together," is a Spanish saying ; I will
add, ''Nor two silent people ; " we naturally love our
So Francis Ardry came to see me, and right glad
I was to see him, for 1 had just flung my books
and papers aside, and was wishing for a little social
converse; and when we had conversed for some
little time together, Francis Ardry proposed that
we should go to the play to see Kean ; so we went
to the play, and saw ā not Kean, who at that time
was ashamed to show himself, but ā a man who was
Ch. VIL] FLINGING THE BONES. 63
not ashamed to show himself, and who people said
was a much better man than Kean ā as I have no
doubt he was ā though whether he was a better actor
I cannot say, for I never saw Kean.
Two or three evenings after Francis Ardry came
to see me again, and again we went out together,
and Francis Ardry took me to ā shall I say ? ā why
not ? ā a gaming house, where I saw people playing,
and where I saw Francis Ardry play and lose five
guineas, and where I lost nothing, because I did
not play, though I felt somewhat inclined; for a
man with a white hat and a sparkUng eye held up
a box wliich contained sometlung which rattled, and
asked me to fling the bones. "There is nothing
like flinging the bones ! " said he, and then I thought
I should like to know what kind of thing flinging
the bones was ; I, however, restrained myself.
" There is nothing like flinging the bones ! "
shouted the man, as my friend and myself left the
Long Hfe and prosperity to Francis Ardiy ! but
for him I should not have obtained knowledge
which I did of the strange and eccentric places of
64 STRANGE PLACES. [Ch. VII.
London. Some of the places to which he took me
were very strange places indeed; but, however
strange the places were, I observed that the in-
habitants thought there were no places like their
several places, and no occupations hke their several
occupations; and among other strange places to
which Francis Ardry conducted me, was a place
not far from the abbey church of Westminster.
Before we entered this place our ears were greeted
by a confused hubbub of human voices, squealing
of rats, barking of dogs, and the cries of various
other animals. Here we beheld a kind of cock-pit,
around which a great many people, seeming of all
ranks, but chiefly of the lower, were gathered, and
in it we saw a dog destroy a great many rats in a
very small period ; and when the dog had destroyed
the rats, we saw a fight between a dog and a bear,
then a fight between two dogs, then
After the diversions of the day were over, my
friend introduced me to the genius of the place, a
small man of about five feet high, with a very sharp
countenance, and dressed in a brown jockey coat,
and top boots, " Joey," said he, '' this is a friend
Ch. VII.] DOG-FIGHTING. 65
of mine." Joey nodded to me with a 'patronising
air. '' Glad to see you, sir ! ā want a dog ? "
" No," said I.
" You have got one, then ā want to match
" We have a dog at home," said I, " in the coun-
try ; hut I can't say I should hke to match him.
Indeed, I do not like dog-fighting."
" Not like dog-fighting ! " said the man, staring.
*'The truth is, Joe, that he is just come to
"So I should think; he looks rather green ā
not like dog-fighting ! "
'' Nothing like it, is there, Joey ?"
" I should think not ; what is like it ? A time
will come, and that speedily, when folks will give
up everything else, and follow dog-fighting."
''Do you think so ? " said I.
" Think so ? Let me ask what there is that a
man wouldn't give up for it ? "
- " Wliy," said I, modestly, *' there 's religion."
" Eehgion ! How you talk. Why there 's my-
self, bred and bom an Independent, and intended to
66 LEARNING AND LETTERS. [Ch. YII.
be a preacher, didn't I give up religion for dog-
fighting? Keligion, indeed ! If it were not for the
rascally law, my pit would fill better on Sundays
than any other time. Who would go to church
when they could come to my pit ? Eeligion ! why
the parsons themselves come to my pit ; and I have
now a letter in my pocket from one of them, asking
me to send him a dog."
*' Well, then, poHtics," said I.
*' Politics ! Why the gemmen in the House
would leave Pitt himself, if he were alive, to come
to my pit. There were three of the best of them
here to-night, all great horators. ā Get on with you,
what comes next ? "
" Why, there 's learning and letters."
'' Pretty things, truly, to keep people from dog-
fighting. Why there's the young gentlemen from
the Abbey School comes here in shoals, leaving
books, and letters, and masters too. To tell you
the truth, I rather wish they would mind their let-
ters, for a more precious set of yoimg blackguards
I never seed. It was only the other day I was
thinking of caUing in a constable for my own pro-
Ch. VIL] BATCH OF DOGS. 67
tection, for I thought my pit would have been torn
down by them."
Scarcely knowing what to say, I made an ob-
servation at random. *'You show, by your own
conduct/' said I, " that there are other tilings worth
following besides dog-fighting. You practise rat-
catching and badger-baiting as well."
The dog-fancier eyed me with supreme contempt.
"Your friend here," said he, "might well call you
a new one. When I talks of dog-fighting, I of
course means rat-catching, and badger-baiting, ay,
and bull-baiting too, just as when I speaks reli-
giously, when I says one I means not one but
three. And talking of rehgion puts me in mind
that I have something else to do besides chaffing
here, having a batch of dogs to send ofi" by this
night's packet to the Pope of Kome."
But at last I had seen enough of what London
had to show, whether strange or commonplace, so
at least I thought, and I ceased to accompany my
friend in Ms rambles about town, and to partake of
his adventures. Our friendship, however, still con-
tinued unabated, though I saw, in consequence, less
of him. I reflected that time was passing on ā that
68 REDOUBLED APPLICATION. [Ch. VII.
the little money I had brought to town was fast
consuming, and that I had nothing to depend upon
but my own exertions for a fresh supply; and I
returned with redoubled application to my pur-
OCCUPATIONS. ā TRADUTTORE TRADITORE. ODE TO THE MIST. ā APPLE
AND PEAR, REVIEWING CURRENT LITERATURE. ā OXFORD-LIKE
MANNER. ā A PLAIN STORY. ā ILL-REQULATED MIND. UNSNUEFED
CANDLE. ā STRANGE DREAMS.
I COMPILED the Chronicles of Newgate ; I reviewed
hooks for the Review estahlished on an entirely new
principle ; and I occasionally tried my hest to trans-
late into German portions of the puhHsher's philo-
sophy. In this last task I experienced more than
one difficulty. I was a tolerahle German scholar,
it is true, and I had long heen ahle to translate
from German into English with considerable
facihty ; but to translate from a foreign language into
your own, is a widely different thing from trans-
lating from your own into a foreign language ; and,
in my first attempt to render the pubhsher into
German, I was conscious of making miserable
failures, from pure ignorance of German grammar ;
however, by the assistance of grammars and dic-
tionaries, and by extreme perseverance, I at length
overcame all the difficulties connected with the
70 TRADUTTORE TRADITORE. [Ch. VIII.
Geraoan language. But, alas ! another difficulty
remained, far greater than any connected with
German ā a difficulty connected with the language
of the publisher ā the language which the great
man employed in his writings was very hard
to understand; I say in his writings ā for his collo-
quial English was plain enough. Though not pro-
fessing to be a scholar, he was much addicted, when
writing, to the use of Greek and Latin terms, not
as other people used them, but in a manner of his
own, which set the authority of dictionaries at
defiance ; the consequence was, that I was some-
times utterly at a loss to understand the meaning of
the publisher. Many a quarter of an hour did I
pass at this period, staring at periods of the pub-
lisher, and wondering what he could mean, but in
vain, till at last, with a shake of the head, I would
snatch up the pen, and render the publisher literally
into German. Sometimes I was almost tempted
to substitute something of my own for what the
pubhsher had written, but my conscience inter-
posed ; the awful words, Traduttore traditore, com-
menced ringing in my ears, and I asked myself
whether I should be acting honourably towards the
Ch. yill.] ODE TO THE MIST. 71
publisher, who had committed to me the delicate
task of translating him into German ; should I be
acting honourably towards him, in making him
speak in Gennan in a manner different from that
in which he expressed himself in English ? No, I
could not reconcile such conduct with any principle
of honour; by substituting something of my own in
Heu of these mysterious passages of the pubUsher,
I might be giving a fatal blow to his whole system
of philosophy. Besides, when translating into
English, had I treated foreign authors in this man-
ner ? Had I treated the minstrels of the Kiaempe
Yiser in this manner ? ā No. Had I treated Ab
Gwilym in this manner? Even when translating
his Ode to the Mist, in which he is misty enough,
had I attempted to make Ab Gwilym less misty ?
No ; on referring to my translation, I found that Ab
Gwilym in my hands was quite as misty as in his
own. Then, seeing that I had not ventured to take
liberties with people who had never put themselves
into my hands for the purpose of being rendered,
how could I venture to substitute my own thoughts
and ideas for the publisher's, who had put himself
into my hands for that purpose ? Forbid it every
72 APPLE AND PEAR. [Ch. VIII.
proper feeling ! ā so I told the Germans in the pub-
lisher's own way, the publisher's tale of an apple
and a pear.
I at first felt much inchned to be of the pub-
lisher's opinion with respect to the theory of the
pear. After all, why should the earth be shaped
like an apple, and not hke a pear ? ā it would cer-
tainly gain in appearance by being shaped hke a
pear. A pear being a handsomer fi:uit than an
apple, the pubUsher is probably right, thought I,
and I will say that he is right on this point in the
notice which I am about to write of his publication
for the Eeview. And yet I don't know ā said I,
after a long fit of musing ā I don't know but what
there is more to be said for the Oxford theory.
The world may be shaped hke a pear, but I don't
know that it is ; but one tiling I know, wliich is, that
it does not taste hke a pear ; I have always hked
pears, but I don't like the world. The world to me
tastes much more hke an apple, and I have never
liked apples. I will uphold the Oxford theory ā be-
sides, I am writing in an Oxford Review, and am
in duty bound to uphold the Oxford theory. So in
my notice I asserted that the world was round ; I
CL YIIL] EEVIEWING. 73
quoted Scripture, and endeavoured to prove that the
world was typified by the apple in Scripture, both
as to shape and properties. ^' An apple is round,"
said I, " and the world is round ā the apple is a
sour, disagreeable fruit ; and who has tasted much
of the world without having his teeth set on edge ?"
I, however, treated the publisher, upon the whole,
in the most urbane and Oxford-Hke manner ; com-
plimenting him upon his style, acknowledging the
general soundness of his views, and only differing
with him in the affair of the apple and pear.
I did not hke reviewing at all ā it was not to my
taste j it was not in my way ; I liked it far less than
translating the pubhsher's philosophy, for that was
something in the line of one whom a competent
judge had sumamed Lavengro. I never could
understand why reviews were instituted; works of
merit do not require to be review^ed, they can speak
for themselves, and require no praising ; works of
no merit at all will die of themselves, they require
no killing. The review to which I was attached
was, as has been already intimated, estabHshed on
an entirely new plan ; it professed to review all new
publications, which certainly no review had ever
VOL. II. E
74 CURRENT LITERATURE. [Ch. YIII.
professed to do before, other reviews never pre-
tending to review more than one-tenth of the cur-
rent literature of the day. When I say it professed
to review all new publications, I should add, which
should be sent to it; for, of course, the review
would not acknowledge the existence of publica-
tions, the authors of which did not acknowledge the
existence of the review. I don't think, however,
that the review had much cause to complain of
being neglected; I have reason to beheve that at
least nine-tenths of the pubhcations of the day
were sent to the review, and in due time reviewed.
I had good opportunity of judging ā I was con-
nected with several departments of the re\dew,
though more particularly ^dth the poetical and
philosophic ones. An English translation of
Kant's philosophy made its appearance on my table
the day before its publication. In my notice of
this work, I said that the Enghsh shortly hoped to
give the Germans a quid ijro quo. I believe at
that time authors were much in the habit of pub-
hshing at their own expense. All the poetiy which
I reviewed appeared to be published at the expense
of the authors. If I am asked how I comported
Ch. YIIL] OXFORD -LIKE MANNER. 75
myself, under all circumstances, as a reviewer ā I
answer, ā I did not forget that I was connected
with a review established on Oxford principles, the
editor of which had translated Quintilian. All the
publications which fell under my notice I treated in
a gentlemanly and Oxford-like manner, no per-
sonalities ā no vituperation ā no shabby insinua-
tions ; decorum, decorum was the order of the day.