Journal as a Pedlar, 1789-90
After repaying my officious landlady with a glass of brandy for her marvellous memoirs, I retired to bed, and, early next morning, rose to take a view of the town. Dalkeith is situated in a fruitful country, six miles south from Edinburgh, on a rising ground, between the two rivers north and south Esk; these joining a little below the town, and running north-east for three or four miles, fall into the sea between Musselburgh and Fisher-row. The town, though not large, is neat, the streets wide, and the front houses, in general, genteel. The main street, which runs from east to west, is terminated on the east by the gate leading to the Duke of Buccleuch's palace, whose eldest son inherits the title of Earl of Dalkeith. The inhabitants yearly celebrate the Duke's birth-day by a numerous procession of the trades through the town, ringing of bells, &c., &c. Their weekly market is held on Thursday, when immense quantities of oat-meal pour in from the south, at the distance of 20 or 30 miles, is sold to extensive dealers, and immediately despatched to Edinburgh and the west country. Their Established church, is a black, ruinous pile of Gothic architecture, inelegant in itself, unwholesome to its frequenters, and a disgrace to the town. They have likewise four other places of public worship, viz., a Burgher, Antiburgher, Methodist and Relief meeting-house. The people are in general, poor, laborious and illiterate, nor are their morals, especially those of the fair sex, much assisted by their intercourse with the dragoons, three or four troop of whom generally reside here, for the conveniency of oats and pasturage.
When we are highly elevated on the wings of hope, if baulked in our designs or deprived of our expectations, we sink the deeper in despondence. This was partly the case with me, in regard to this place. I had looked round on the elegant buildings, valuable shops, and genteel company that surrounded me, and silently said to myself, Surely in this place, unhackneyed with new publications, where there seems to be so many people of taste, and where the appearance of an author disposing of his own works may seem a novelty, surely in such a place as this, I cannot fail of success. Big with these enthusiastic hopes, I put a volume in my pocket and went immediately to the shop of a bookseller, the only one in town. I found him dozing over some old tattered papers (perhaps the MSS. of some forlorn and pennyless author), explained to him my business, showed him the book, and wished to know if he would purchase a few copies, or recommend me to any literary characters in town, whose inclination led them to the study of poetry. He took the book carelessly from me, whirled over the leaves again and again, enquired the price, and, in a tone that bespoke the meanness of his soul, told me he would take one of them at half-price. That, though he scarcely believed ever it would sell, yet, he would be so far good to me as take one of them on these terms. This was delivered with an air that seemed to display the greatness of his generosity, and to require my thanks in return. I eyed the avaricious wretch for a moment with a smile of contempt, and asked if he was really sincere in what he said. Protesting upon his honour that he was, and that he would meddle with them on no other conditions, I thanked him for his mighty kindness, and left his shop with a hearty scorn for his narrowness of soul. The next I made my addresses to, was a certain pedagogue, disabled of one leg, who, hopping up to me, enquired with a strange stare and impudence of look, what I wanted with him? This I explained as briefly as I could, and putting the book into his hand, desired he would be pleased to take a look of it. He took the poems—perused them for a few moments, but on observing his wife approaching, gave me them back hastily, and saying he had no use for any of these things, hirpled into his noisy hut again.
The reception I met with from these and the greatest part to whom I applied, dispirited me so much, that, sunk in despondence, I stole to my lodgings, and there sat, sadly ruminating on the unpromising face of my affairs. I had ransacked the whole town for traffic, in vain; I had solicited the encouragement of the literary part of it with equal success; and when I directed my course to the palace, hopeful that I might there be more fortunate, I was repulsed by the porter, who assured me, that none of my occupation were allowed admittance. This I afterwards found out to be false. However, I had still one project, which, whatever the event might be, I was determined to put in execution. I had heard much said (and I believe justly) in praise of her Grace, the Duchess. I had heard her kindness, bounty and generosity exalted to the heavens. Scarce a poor inhabitant but gave me some affecting account of her sympathy, and produced to my view the effects of her charity, while the tears of gratitude glittered in their eye. Roused by these considerations, and animated with fresh hopes by the amiable character of this dignified personage, I at once resolved to remit her an address, representing, in the most modest terms, my solitary situation, little doubting but her unbounded generosity would extend itself to an unfortunate author.
With these resolutions, I took the pen, and wrote the following address.
To Her Grace, the Duchess of——
MADAM,—The person who has the honour of presenting the inclosed poetical hand-bill, humbly begs your gracious acceptance and perusal. The goods which it enumerates, your humble servant carries along with him, that he may, by their means, have an easier opportunity of soliciting the favour of the literary world, for a volume of poems he has just now published. May it therefore please your Grace, to allow, for once, a young poet to spread his elegant assortment at your feet—to entreat your acceptance of a copy of his poetical performances, and your pardon for this intrusion, which will for ever bind him,
Madam,
Your, &c., &c.
This I sealed, and with a trifle bribed the porter to get it conveyed safely to her Grace. The janitor's frozen features softened at the appearance of the specie; he assured me of his best endeavours to assist me, and desired I would call about the evening, when without doubt I would be introduced.