To the pecuniary loss inflicted on him by these adverse criticisms he was justly sensible. He was far from expecting, or even desiring, to be widely popular or to make a rapid fortune; but he felt that the labourer was worthy of his hire, and that the devotion of years to literature should have been met with some moderate degree of the usual form of recognition which the world accords to those who work for it. In 1820 he speaks of "the whole of my returns from the writing trade not amounting to seven-score pounds," and as late as 1843, when at the height of his fame, he was not ashamed of confessing the importance which he had always attached to this particular. "So sensible am I," he says, "of the deficiencies in all that I write, and so far does everything that I attempt fall short of what I wish it to be, that even private publication, if such a term may be allowed, requires more resolution than I can command. I have written to give vent to my own mind, and not without hope that, some time or other, kindred minds might benefit by my labours; but I am inclined to believe I should never have ventured to send forth any verses of mine to the world, if it had not been done on the pressure of personal occasions. Had I been a rich man, my productions, like this _Epistle_, the _Tragedy of the Borderers_, &c., would most likely have been confined to manuscript." An interesting passage from an unpublished letter of Miss Wordsworth's, on the _White Doe of Rylstone_, confirms this statement:-- "My brother was very much pleased with your frankness in telling us that you did not perfectly like his poem. He wishes to know what your feelings were--whether the tale itself did not interest you--or whether you could not enter into the conception of Emily's character, or take delight in that visionary communion which is supposed to have existed between her and the Doe. Do not fear to give him pain. He is far too much accustomed to be abused to receive pain from it, (at least as far as he himself is concerned.) My reason for asking you these questions is, that some of our friends, who are equal admirers of the _White Doe_ and of my brother's published poems, think that _this_ poem will sell on account of the story; that is, that the story will bear up those points which are above the level of the public taste; whereas the two last volumes--except by a few solitary individuals, who are passionately devoted to my brother's works--are abused by wholesale."