The Expedition of Humphry ClinkerSmollett, T. (Tobias)
General
The Expedition of Humphry Clinker
Smollett, T. (Tobias)
Epistolary fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Travelers -- Fiction
I owned, that was a point which might deserve consideration; but still
I expressed a desire to know his real motives for continuing his
friendship to a set of rascals equally ungrateful and insignificant.--He
said, he did not pretend to assign any reasonable motive; that, if
the truth must be told, the man was, in point of conduct, a most
incorrigible fool; that, though he pretended to have a knack at hitting
off characters, he blundered strangely in the distribution of his
favours, which were generally bestowed on the most undeserving of those
who had recourse to his assistance; that, indeed, this preference was
not so much owing to want of discernment as to want of resolution, for
he had not fortitude enough to resist the importunity even of the most
worthless; and, as he did not know the value of money, there was very
little merit in parting with it so easily; that his pride was gratified
in seeing himself courted by such a number of literary dependents; that,
probably, he delighted in hearing them expose and traduce one another;
and, finally, from their information, he became acquainted with all the
transactions of Grubstreet, which he had some thoughts of compiling for
the entertainment of the public.
I could not help suspecting, from Dick’s discourse, that he had some
particular grudge against S--, upon whose conduct he had put the worst
construction it would bear; and, by dint of cross-examination, I found
he was not at all satisfied with the character which had been given in
the Review of his last performance, though it had been treated civilly
in consequence of the author’s application to the critic. By all
accounts, S-- is not without weakness and caprice; but he is certainly
good-humoured and civilized; nor do I find that there is any thing
overbearing, cruel, or implacable in his disposition.
I have dwelt so long upon authors, that you will perhaps suspect I
intend to enroll myself among the fraternity; but, if I were actually
qualified for the profession, it is at best but a desperate resource
against starving, as it affords no provision for old age and infirmity.
Salmon, at the age of fourscore, is now in a garret, compiling matter,
at a guinea a sheet, for a modern historian, who, in point of age, might
be his grandchild; and Psalmonazar, after having drudged half a century
in the literary mill, in all the simplicity and abstinence of an
Asiatic, subsists upon the charity of a few booksellers, just sufficient
to keep him from the parish, I think Guy, who was himself a bookseller,
ought to have appropriated one wing or ward of his hospital to the use
of decayed authors; though indeed, there is neither hospital, college,
nor workhouse, within the bills of mortality, large enough to contain
the poor of this society, composed, as it is, from the refuse of every
other profession.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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