Gentle reader,
If an Irishman were asked what a preface was, he would, without
hesitation reply, that it was the last chapter of a book, and we should
unquestionably pronounce that answer to be a bull; for how can prefatory
remarks be valedictory ones? A few moments’ consideration, however,
would induce us to withdraw such a hasty opinion, and convince us that
his idea is, after all, a correct one. It is almost always the part
that is last written, and _we_ perpetrate the bull, by placing it at the
beginning instead of the end of the book, and denominating our parting
words introductory remarks.
The result of our arrangement is, that nobody reads it. The public do
not want to hear an apology or explanation, until it first ascertains,
whether the one can be accepted, or the other is required. This
contemptuous neglect arises from two causes, first because it is out
of place, and secondly because it too often contains a great deal
of twaddle. Unfortunately, one half of what is said in this world is
unmeaning compliment. A man who wishes to mark his respect for you,
among other inconvenient methods of shewing it, offers to accompany you
to the Hall. You are in consequence arrested in your progress. You are
compelled to turn on your pursuer, and entreat him not to come to the
door. After a good deal of lost time he is prevailed upon to return.
This is not fair. Every man should be suffered to depart in peace.
Now, it is my intention to adopt the Irish definition. The word preface
is a misnomer. What I have to say I shall put into my last chapter, and
assign to it its proper place. I shall also adopt another improvement,
on the usual practice. I shall make it as short as possible, and speak
to the point.
My intention then, gentle reader, was when I commenced this work, to
write but one volume, and at some future time to publish a second.
The materials, however, were so abundant, that selection became very
difficult, and compression much more so. To touch as many topics as I
designed, I was compelled to extend it to its present size, and I still
feel that the work is only half done. Whether I shall ever be able to
supply this deficiency I cannot say. I do not doubt your kind reception;
I have experienced too much indulgence and favour at your hands, to
suppose that you will withdraw it from one whom you have honoured with
repeated marks of approbation; but I entertain some fears that I shall
not be able to obtain the time that is necessary for its completion,
and that if I can command the leisure, my health will insist on a prior
claim to its disposal.
If, however, I shall be enabled so to do, it is my intention, hereafter
to add another series of the Sayings and Doings of the Attache, so as to
make the work as complete as possible.
I am quite confident it is not necessary to add, that the sentiments
uttered by Mr. Slick, are not designed either as an expression of those
of the author, or of the Americans who visit this country. With respect
to myself no disavowal is necessary; but I feel it due to my American
friends, for whose kindness I can never be sufficiently grateful,
and whose good opinion I value too highly to jeopardise it by any
misapprehension, to state distinctly, that I have not the most remote
idea of putting Mr. Slick forward, as a representative of any opinions,
but his own individual ones. They are peculiar to himself.
They naturally result from his shrewdness--knowledge of human
nature--quickness of perception and appreciation of the ridiculous on
the one hand; and on the other from his defective education, ignorance
of the usages of society, and sudden elevation, from the lower walks of
life, to a station for which he was wholly unqualified.
I have endeavoured, as far as it was possible, in a work of this kind,
to avoid all personal allusions to _private_ persons, or in any way to
refer to scenes that may be supposed to have such a hearing. Should any
one imagine that he can trace any resemblance, to any private occurrence
I can only assure him that such resemblance is quite accidental.
On the other hand, I have lost no opportunity of inculcating what I
conceive to be good sound constitutional doctrines. Loyal myself, a
great admirer of the monarchical form of government; attached to British
Institutions, and a devoted advocate for the permanent connexion
between the parent State, and its transatlantic possessions, I have not
hesitated to give utterance to these opinions. Born a Colonist, it is
natural I should have the feelings of one, and if I have obtruded
local matters on the notice of the reader oftener than may be thought
necessary, it must be remembered that an inhabitant of those distant
countries has seldom an opportunity of being heard. I should feel,
therefore, if I were to pass over in silence our claims or our
interests, I was affording the best justification for that neglect,
which for the last half century, has cramped our energies, paralized our
efforts, and discouraged and disheartened ourselves. England is liberal
in concessions, and munificent in her pecuniary grants to us; but is
so much engrossed with domestic politics, that she will bestow upon us
neither time nor consideration.
It has been my object, therefore, to convey to the public some important
truths, under a humorous cover, which, without the amusement afforded by
the wrapper would never be even looked at.
This portion of the work requires no apology. To do as I have done, is
a duty incumbent on any person who has the means of doing good, afforded
him by such an extensive circulation of his works, as I have been
honoured with.
I have already expressed some doubts whether I shall be enabled to
furnish a second series of this work or not. In this uncertainty, I will
not omit this, perhaps my only opportunity, of making my most grateful
acknowledgments, for the very great measure of indulgence I have
received, from the public on both sides of the Atlantic, and of
expressing a hope that Mr. Slick, who has been so popular as a
Clockmaker may prove himself equally deserving of favour as “an
Attache.”
I have the honour to subscribe myself,
Your most obedient servant,
THE AUTHOR.
London, July 1st., 1843.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg’s The Attache, by Thomas Chandler Haliburton