The Expedition of Humphry ClinkerSmollett, T. (Tobias)
General
The Expedition of Humphry Clinker
Smollett, T. (Tobias)
Epistolary fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Travelers -- Fiction
I have agreed for a good travelling-coach and four, at a guinea a day,
for three months certain; and next week we intend to begin our
journey to the North, hoping still to be with you by the latter end of
October--I shall continue to write from every stage where we make any
considerable halt, as often as anything occurs, which I think can
afford you the least amusement. In the mean time, I must beg you will
superintend the oeconomy of Barns, with respect to my hay and corn
harvests; assured that my ground produces nothing but what you may
freely call your own--On any other terms I should be ashamed to
subscribe myself
Your unvariable friend, MATT. BRAMBLE LONDON, June 8.
To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.
DEAR PHILLIPS,
In my last, I mentioned my having spent an evening with a society of
authors, who seemed to be jealous and afraid of one another. My uncle
was not at all surprised to hear me say I was disappointed in their
conversation. ‘A man may be very entertaining and instructive upon paper
(said he), and exceedingly dull in common discourse. I have observed,
that those who shine most in private company, are but secondary stars
in the constellation of genius--A small stock of ideas is more easily
managed, and sooner displayed, than a great quantity crowded together.
There is very seldom any thing extraordinary in the appearance and
address of a good writer; whereas a dull author generally distinguishes
himself by some oddity or extravagance. For this reason, I fancy, that
an assembly of Grubs must be very diverting.’
My curiosity being excited by this hint, I consulted my friend Dick Ivy,
who undertook to gratify it the very next day, which was Sunday last.
He carried me to dine with S--, whom you and I have long known by his
writings.--He lives in the skirts of the town, and every Sunday his
house is opened to all unfortunate brothers of the quill, whom he treats
with beef, pudding, and potatoes, port, punch, and Calvert’s entire butt
beer. He has fixed upon the first day of the week for the exercise of
his hospitality, because some of his guests could not enjoy it on any
other, for reasons that I need not explain. I was civilly received in
a plain, yet decent habitation, which opened backwards into a very
pleasant garden, kept in excellent order; and, indeed, I saw none of the
outward signs of authorship, either in the house or the landlord, who
is one of those few writers of the age that stand upon their own
foundation, without patronage, and above dependence. If there was
nothing characteristic in the entertainer, the company made ample amends
for his want of singularity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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