Michelangelo, old boy, do you think you might...
My attitude to money is simple. I want to think about it as little as possible. So I have arranged my life with this end in view. I work hard and spend less than I earn. I put aside sums for tax and VAT and do the returns promptly. I pay bills by return of post. I have never borrowed or had an overdraft, and paid off the only mortgage I ever had at the earliest possible date. I always say to the people who look after my savings: I am not greedy and don’t want a high return, just security and peace of mind. None of this did me the slightest good during the present crisis. I discovered my bankers had put the bulk of my money into a company (‘probably the safest investment in the world, Mr Johnson’) which had to be ‘rescued’, and for a fortnight I thought I had lost all. So I worried about money as never before. Now I believe I am safe again, and I despise and hate myself for giving way to money-fear, the lowest of all emotions. By way of penance I am praying hard for the poor wretches who have more reason to worry than I had, especially the growing numbers in danger of losing their houses or jobs.
Writers often get themselves into financial messes. Sir Walter Scott, poor fellow, did nothing actually wrong but invested, for altruistic reasons mostly, in a publishing firm which failed in the terrible crisis of December 1825. This was in the days before limited liability, and he had to spend the rest of his life working frenetically to pay off his debts. The last were settled from royalties shortly after his death. Thus the soul of this honourable man, who his biographer, Lockhart, said was ‘a gentleman even to his dogs’, could rest in peace. Wordsworth gave Scott no credit for paying off debts by industry, but looked down his nose at him for ‘engaging in trade’ in the first place.
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