Now haveth good day, good men all,
Haveth good day, young and old;
Haveth good day, both great and small,
And graunt merci a thousand fold!
Gif ever I might full fain I wold,
Don ought that were unto your leve
Christ keep you out of cares cold,
For now 'tis time to take my leave.
--Old Song.
Several months have now elapsed since my marriage. I am living quietly in
the country, among my books, and looking forward with calmness, rather
than impatience, to the time which shall again bring me before the world.
Marriage with me is not that sepulchre of all human hope and energy which
it often is with others. I am not more partial to my arm chair, nor more
averse to shaving, than of yore. I do not bound my prospects to the
dinner-hour, nor my projects to "migrations from the blue bed to the
brown." Matrimony found me ambitious; it has not cured me of the passion:
but it has concentrated what was scattered, and determined what was
vague. If I am less anxious than formerly for the reputation to be
acquired in society, I am more eager for honour in the world; and instead
of amusing my enemies, and the saloon, I trust yet to be useful to my
friends and to mankind.
Whether this is a hope, altogether vain and idle; whether I have, in the
self-conceit common to all men, peculiarly prominent in myself, overrated
both the power and the integrity of my mind (for the one is bootless
without the other,) neither I nor the world can yet tell. "Time," says
one of the fathers, "is the only touchstone which distinguishes the
prophet from the boaster."
Meanwhile, gentle reader, during the two years which I purpose devoting
to solitude and study, I shall not be so occupied with my fields and
folios, as to render me uncourteous to thee. If ever thou hast known me
in the city, I give thee a hearty invitation to come and visit me in the
country. I promise thee, that my wines and viands shall not disgrace the
companion of Guloseton: nor my conversation be much duller than my book.
I will compliment thee on thy horses, thou shalt congratulate me upon my
wife. Over old wine we will talk over new events; and if we flag at the
latter, why, we will make ourselves amends with the former. In short, if
thou art neither very silly nor very wise, it shall be thine own fault if
we are not excellent friends.
I feel that it would be but poor courtesy in me, after having kept
company with Lord Vincent, through the tedious journey of three volumes,
to dismiss him now without one word of valediction. May he, in the
political course he has adopted, find all the admiration his talents
deserve; and if ever we meet as foes, let our heaviest weapon be a
quotation, and our bitterest vengeance a jest.
Lord Guloseton regularly corresponds with me, and his last letter
contained a promise to visit me in the course of the month, in order to
recover his appetite (which has been much relaxed of late) by the country
air.
My uncle wrote to me, three weeks since, announcing the death of the
infant Lady Glenmorris had brought him. Sincerely do I wish that his loss
may be supplied. I have already sufficient fortune for my wants, and
sufficient hope for my desires.
Thornton died as he had lived--the reprobate and the ruffian. "Pooh,"
said he, in his quaint brutality, to the worthy clergyman, who attended
his last moments with more zeal than success; "Pooh, what's the
difference between gospel and go--spell? we agree like a bell and its
clapper--you're prating while I'm hanging."
Dawson died in prison, penitent and in peace. Cowardice, which spoils the
honest man, often ameliorates the knave.
From Lord Dawton I have received a letter, requesting me to accept a
borough (in his gift), just vacated. It is a pity that generosity--such a
prodigal to those who do not want it--should often be such a niggard to
those who do. I need not specify my answer. One may as well be free as
dependant, when one can afford it; and I hope yet to teach Lord Dawton,
that to forgive the minister is not to forget the affront. Meanwhile, I
am content to bury myself in my retreat with my mute teachers of logic
and legislature, in order, hereafter, to justify his lordship's good
opinion of my senatorial abilities. Farewell, Brutus, we shall meet at
Philippi!
It is some months since Lady Roseville left England; the last news we
received of her, informed us, that she was living at Sienna, in utter
seclusion, and very infirm health.
"The day drags thro', though storms keep out the sun,
And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on."
Poor Lady Glanville! the mother of one so beautiful, so gifted, and so
lost. What can I say of her which "you, and you, and you--" all who are
parents, cannot feel, a thousand times more acutely, in those recesses of
the heart too deep for words or tears. There are yet many hours in which
I find the sister of the departed in grief, that even her husband cannot
console; and I--I--my friend, my brother, have I forgotten thee in death?
I lay down the pen, I turn from my employment--thy dog is at my feet, and
looking at me, as if conscious of my thoughts, with an eye almost as
tearful as my own.
But it is not thus that I will part from my reader; our greeting was not
in sorrow, neither shall be our adieus. For thee, who hast gone with me
through the motley course of my confessions, I would fain trust that I
have sometimes hinted at thy instruction when only appearing to strive
for thy amusement. But on this I will not dwell; for the moral insisted
upon often loses its effect, and all that I will venture to hope is, that
I have opened to thee one true, and not utterly hacknied, page in the
various and mighty volume of mankind. In this busy and restless world I
have not been a vague speculator, nor an idle actor. While all around me
were vigilant, I have not laid me down to sleep--even for the luxury of a
poet's dream. Like the school boy, I have considered study as study, but
action as delight.
Nevertheless, whatever I have seen, or heard, or felt, has been treasured
in my memory, and brooded over by my thoughts. I now place the result
before you,
"Sicut meus est mos,
Nescio quid meditans nugarum;--
but not, perhaps,
--totus in illis."
Whatever society--whether in a higher or lower grade--I have portrayed,
my sketches have been taken rather as a witness than a copyist; for I
have never shunned that circle, nor that individual, which presented life
in a fresh view, or man in a new relation. It is right, however, that I
should add, that as I have not wished to be an individual satirist,
rather than a general observer, I have occasionally, in the subordinate
characters (such as Russelton and Gordon), taken only the outline from
truth, and filled up the colours at my leisure and my will.
With regard to myself I have been more candid. I have not only shewn--non
parca manu--my faults, but (grant that this is a much rarer exposure) my
foibles; and, in my anxiety for your entertainment, I have not grudged
you the pleasure of a laugh--even at my own expense. Forgive me, then, if
I am not a fashionable hero--forgive me if I have not wept over a
"blighted spirit," nor boasted of a "British heart;" and allow that, a
man, who, in these days of alternate Werters and Worthies, is neither the
one nor the other, is, at least, a novelty in print, though, I fear,
common enough in life.
And, now my kind reader, having remembered the proverb, and in saying one
word to thee, having said two for myself, I will no longer detain thee.
Whatever thou mayest think of me and my thousand faults, both as an
author, and a man, believe me it is with a sincere and affectionate wish
for the accomplishment of my parting words, that I bid thee--FAREWELL!