The Sun.
London, England, 1850-09-09 00:00:00

'LEIGH HUNT AND THE TIMES."
; (F urn the Week'y Dispatch.)
Mr. Editor,—Every now mod then the Times con-
I sults the gra ilicatiun cf that portion of the public
which is the least scrupulous about the means, so t hit
its gratification is but ministered to, by unbagging
some unlucky author ard hounding upon
,him the
sharpest -toothed critic in its kennel. Famous sport
ensues, for a'l except the worried and lacerated party.
He is regarded in the same way as the patient under
the operation which the doctor (in Zeluco) describes
as being so very beautiful and pleasant. " But it
must have hurt the patient very much." 0, the
patient—your ladyship was thinking of the patient!'"
In justice to the surgical amputator, it must be re-
marked that his function is often alike essential to
the well being of the individual and of society.
Whether tha. can Le said of. the horrors of the chase
which the wild huntsman of Printing House square
pursues for the amusement of his readers, is more
than questionab!c.
If there be a roan rc ady, in a frank and friendly
spirit, to shake hands with all the world, and with
whom it might be hoped that all the world was ready
to shake hands in return, that man is Lsigh
Hunt. From youth to age his geniality of
spirit has been unfailing. Oppression could
not sqneeza it out of him, nor venomous calumny
dash it with bitterness. It has deserted him
neither towards friend nor foe, in victory or in defeat
and disappointment.
.As poet, philosopher, politician,
critic, with all the requisite qualities for its high and
varied functions, there has ever been the human sub-
stratum, the elastic, kindly, truehearted man in all.
Nor are there wanting, from the Times critic, large
acknowledgements so large that they might have
harmonized with a tone as eulogistic as that adopted
is depreciatory. But it seems that Mr. Hunt cannot
say his multiplication table ; that when a youth, in
clerk's employment, he came too late to office; that
the flowers and piano in his prison-house were an
imprudent outlay ; that he was overreached by a
cheating bookseller in the price of a " Collection of
Italian Poets ;" that he finds it difficult to make both
ends meet ; and that he loves his Queen, and would
like to be Laureate. All which charges might
be left to themselves, but for the assumption at the
bottom of all, and of which the entire criticism is an
elaborate enforcement, that a man who follows lite-
rature as a profession may serve himself as well as by
any other profession, and has only himself to blame
if he be not well to do in the world. Especially is
he condemned should he complain of, and cast any
imputation upon, " broad-shouldered society."
I hold this to be a delusive and pernicious doctrine;
and I will state why. There are certain conditions
and limitations which the critic keeps out of sight.
Under ordinary circumstances, the thriving literary
man must not seek to improve, but merely to gratify,
the public taste.- In politics, he must side with the
strongest and wealthiest party. In religion, he must
say nothing of a " heterodox and Leigh Hunt-isle"
Christianity. In criticism, he must praise the fa-
vourite of the day. No prejudice can safely be
assailed. If by the toil of years he canfmake a name,
then, and only then, he may sell his name; perhaps,
being overpaid as much as he was underpaid before,
when his works had the first freshness of his intellec-
tual spring, and he fairly wrote out all the thought
that was in him. He must stifle the impulses to
put forth his best powers, aim at the noblest ob-
jects, and strive to realise what " the world shall
sot willingly let die," in order to do the work of
the day, whatever it may be, and win the day's
bread and cheese. Having proved himself efficient, and
got rid of any superfluous nicety or independence, he
may find employment or job work at the wages of a
subordinate clerk; and if his party be in office, and
he lucky enough to have an influential patron, he
may end his days as one of her Majesty a hundred
pounds a-year pensioners. The Times compositors
must have laughed when they set up the assertion
that " there is no reason why the man of letters
should not pass through life with the respect of him-
self and of the world at large ; why social happiness
and comparative independence should not be enjoyed
by him as well as by any other professional man."
The reason is obvious. The man of letters is before
his age. He has knowledge which the ignorant can-
not appreciate, and taste in which the unrefined do
not sympathise. With unquestionable genius, it may
take him half a century, as it did Wordsworth, to
establish a reputation without which every publication
entails loss rather than profit. But Southey, says the
critic—how respectable and thriving Southey
was! The instance was an apt one. Southey
was fortunate in two conversions, and both
of them very timely. From Democracy he
was converted to Toryism, and from Deism, or
something like it, to the Church of England. Not
every man of letters can expect new light to beam
upon him so luckily. Then came his pension, and
atterwards the Laureateship ; something to fall back
upon this. Add to this, what would have been utterly
unattainable, or any equivalent to it, in his origit,al
state of opinion, a permanent engagement on the well-
paying Quarterly, and the exceptional character of
the case is complete. No doubt the man of letters,
who is not so happy as to be converted, may f. ign
conversion at the critical moment ; and no doubt such
conversion is money's worth in the legal and clerical
professions, as well as in literature. So far the pa-
rallel holds. But the Times is silent on this condition
of its general proposition.
In the present :tate of society no prudent man who
can help is will make literature his sole occupation and
means of subsistence. The pay is in the inverse ratio of
the merit. An unprincipled partizanship pays the best.
Semi-mechanical compilation, the second best. Reslly
orignal work., unless of mere amusement, the worst
of all. Now, if a solid and noble literature
be of any importance to the nation, this is a very bad
state of things, and ought to be remedied. And who
will deny its importance ? Its wreath is far brighter
than than that of the warrior, and watered neither
by tears nor Wood. Its humanizing power is beyond
that of art. Its songs are proverbially mightier than
laws. As enshrined in the wise, it promotes religion
while resisting priesteraft ; as ddruseil amongst the
people, it furnishes enlightenment and excitement,
while abating i:itemperance. It is as a soul to the
body of the community, keeping it from death and
corruption. And it is the nature of that intelligence,
without which even hard necessity would not gene-
rate the invention, that by mechanical arts subdues
the globe to the service of humanity. Honest rulers,
able legislators, faithful priests, skilful artizens, ali
are important to a people; but not less important
than any are its public writers, their integrity, their
patriotism, their independence, their honourable esti-
mation, and their fair remuneration.
All that neel be asked is fair dealing towards a
profession so important for the well-being of • society,
and yet, from the very nature of the case, so much
worse paid than any with which it can be brought
into comparison. I plead neither for Government
patronage nor private patronage. But I demand,
what form of property is so ill protected as literary
property ? If a man stieks an acorn into his ground,
the oak-tree belongs to him and his heirs for ever.
Is it a less work to generate a " Lear," or a " Para-
dise Lost" in his mind ? Yet in that, there is no
perpetual property to the producer. In a few years,
the bookseller and the public divide the spoil. had
American piracy plundered our merchants or our
lanJowners one-tenth as much as it has plundered
our authors, would net the question long ago have
been a national quarrel, only to be set right by jus-
tice and retribution ? Before the Times' assertion
can be verified, there must be an equal sacredness of
property for the man of letters and the man of acres.
You must cease to sacrifice the one to the public
good, and then to sacrifice the public good to the other.
Again, I ask, whose occupation is taxed like that of
the man of letters ? The material on which he
writes or prints is taxed. Not what he sells merely,
but the whole of the edition which has only the
chance of sale, is previously taxed. The
intellectual materials and appliances are all under
taxation. Every public announcement of his work
is taxed. Immense capital, and circulation also im-
mense, combined with a high degree of popular
utility, have been taxed out of the market. And what,
like this, has to be encountered by the lawyer, the
dotter, or the clergyman ? What, indeed ? No such
rocks obstruct the easy flowing of their fees and
tithes. They have their toils; but; comparatively,
they toil in comfort and for competence.
The public has a deep interest in the intellectual
and moral qualities of public writers, and in so treat-
ing them that they shall not live and act under power-
ful temptations to idleness, falsehood, apostacy, or any
other misguiding influence. The imprudent must
reap the results of their imprudence, in this as in any
other class. Had the Times only endeavoured to
" warn genius of the certain consequences of a lofty
neglect of the ordinary and every-day prudence re-
quired for even moderate success in any worldly
calling," I should rather have aimed at seconding
than at controverting its strictures. I speak, of
r ceut better
course, with reference to their general spirit, not their
individual application, leaving that to the be
informed on Mr. Hunt's private history and c
is fahe, and the particular
stances. But the theory
instance adduced in its support is
condemnatory.whicltriglittf
Mr. Hunt have encountered diffieulti:s
have been averted by his timely becoming
tied, Torified, and a vilifier ofl isol
old associates Csoeihatiteres the Quarterly Review, I give him j
eulties and his endurance._ NI, it o
_
honesty morenhishedihffia;
the best of the bargain, a hard lot though it be. It
ought not, in any case, to be made harder
by .public
indifference or fiscal partiality. There is
less of
folly than of infamy in taxation upon literary inte-
grity. Mind was not made to be the tool of party or
of patronage. A wise nation will not abandon it to
that degrading destiny. Let people ask themselves
why apologies for Russian despotism and Austrian
brutality are written for British publications ?
They cannot be the spontaneous produc •
tions of intellect. That is not in the nature
,of things, A persevering power is tat work? and let