er all this turmoil of his literary life,
neither his masked lady nor the flaws in his indictments availed him.
Government brought a writ of error, severely prosecuted him; and,
abandoned, as usual, by those for whom he had annihilated a genius
which deserved a better fate, his perturbed spirit broke out into a
fever, and he died raving against cruel persecutors, and patrons not
much more humane.

So much for some of those who have been "Authors by Profession" in one
of the twofold capacities which Guthrie designed, that of writing for
a minister; the other, that of writing for the bookseller, though far
more honourable, is sufficiently calamitous.

In commercial times, the hope of profit is always a stimulating, but a
degrading motive; it dims the clearest intellect, it stills the
proudest feelings. Habit and prejudice will soon reconcile even genius
to the work of money, and to avow the motive without a blush. "An
author by profession," at once ingenious and ingenuous, declared that,
"till fame appears to be worth more than money, he would always prefer
money to fame." JOHNSON had a notion that there existed no motive for
writing but money! Yet, crowned heads have sighed with the ambition of
authorship, though this great master of the human mind could suppose
that on this subject men were not actuated either by the love of glory
or of pleasure! FIELDING, an author of great genius and of "the
profession," in one of his "Covent-garden Journals" asserts, that "An
author, in a country where there is no public provision for men of
genius, is not obliged to be a more disinterested patriot than any
other. Why is he whose _livelihood is in his pen_ a greater monster in
using it to serve himself, than he who uses his tongue for the same
purpose?"

But it is a very important question to ask, is this "livelihood in the
pen" really such? Authors drudging on in obscurity, and enduring
miseries which can never close but with their life--shall this be
worth even the humble designation of a "livelihood?" I am not now
combating with them whether their taskwork degrades them, but whether
they are receiving an equivalent for the violation of their genius,
for the weight of the fetters they are wearing, and for the entailed
miseries which form an author's sole legacies to his widow and his
children. Far from me is the wish to degrade literature by the
inquiry; but it will be useful to many a youth of promising talent,
who is impatien