THACKERAY'S FAMILIARITY WITH THE WRITINGS OF THE SATIRICAL
ESSAYISTS--_Continued._
Characteristic Passages from the Works of the 'Early Humourists,'
from Thackeray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand with
original Marginal Sketches suggested by the Text -- The 'Mirror,'
Edinburgh, 1779-80 -- Introduction -- The Society in which the
'Mirror' and 'Lounger' originated -- Notice of Contributors --
Paragraphs and Pencillings.
PREFACE TO THE 'MIRROR.'
The circumstances which led to the publication of the 'Mirror,' by a
certain society of friends in Edinburgh, are set forth in the
concluding paper of that work, No. 110, which originally appeared May
27, 1780. The dying speech of the Scotch essayist forms a suitable
introduction to the series.
Extremum concede laborem.--_Virg. Ecl._ x. 1.
'As, at the close of life, people confess the secrets and explain the
mysteries of their conduct, endeavour to do justice to those with whom
they have had dealings, and to die in peace with all the world; so in
the concluding number of a periodical publication, it is usual to lay
aside the assumed name, or fictitious character, to ascribe the
different papers to their true authors, and to wind up the whole with
a modest appeal to the candour or indulgence of the public.
'In the course of these papers the author has not often ventured to
introduce himself, or to give an account of his own situation; in
this, therefore, which is to be the last, he has not much to unravel
on that score. From the narrowness of the place of its appearance, the
'MIRROR' did not admit of much personification of its editor; the
little disguise he has used has been rather to conceal what he was
than to give himself out for what he was not.
[Illustration]
'The idea of publishing a periodical paper in Edinburgh took its rise
in a company of gentlemen whom particular circumstances of connection
brought frequently together. Their discourse often turned upon
subjects of manners, of taste, and of literature. By one of these
accidental resolutions, of which the origin cannot easily be traced,
it was determined to put their thoughts into writing, and to read
them for the entertainment of each other. Their essays assumed the
form, and soon after some one gave them the name, of a periodical
publication; the writers of it were naturally associated, and their
meetings increased the importance as well as the number of their
productions. Cultivating letters in the midst of business, composition
was to them an amusement only; that amusement was heightened by the
audience which this society afforded; the idea of publication
suggested itself as productive of still higher entertainment.
'It was not, however, without diffidence that such a resolution was
taken. From that and several other circumstances it was thought proper
to observe the strictest secrecy with regard to the authors; a purpose
in which they have been so successful that, at this very moment, the
very publisher of the work knows only one of their number, to whom the
conduct of it was entrusted.'
The members of the society alluded to in the last number of the
'Mirror' afterwards carried on the 'Lounger.' They were Mr. R. Cullen,
Mr. M'Leod Bannatyne, Mr. George Ogilvy, Mr. Alex. Abercromby, and Mr.
W. Craig, advocates, the last two of whom were afterwards appointed
Judges of the Court of Session in Scotland; Mr. George Home, one of
the principal clerks of that court; and Mr. H. Mackenzie, of the
Exchequer of Edinburgh.
Of these Mr. Ogilvy, though with abilities and genius abundantly
capable of the task, never contributed to the 'Mirror,' and the
society had to lament his death before the appearance of the
'Lounger.' None of its members, Mr. Mackenzie excepted, whose name is
sufficiently known as an author, had ever before been concerned in any
publication. To Mr. Mackenzie, therefore, was entrusted the conducting
the work, and he alone had any communication with the editor, to whom
the other members of the society were altogether unknown. Secrecy was
an object of much importance to a work of this sort; and during the
publication of both these performances it was singularly well
attained.
Mr. Mackenzie's papers were the most numerous. He is stated to have
been the author of Nos. 2, 5, 7, 11, 12, 14, 16 (the latter part of
17), 21, 23, 25, 30, 32, 34 (part of 35), 38, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 49,
53, 54 (part of 56), 61, 64, 72, 78, 80, 81, 84, the poem in 85 (part
of 89), 91, 92, 93 (part of 96), 99, 100, 101 (parts of 102, 103),
105, 107, 108, 109, and 110.
The contributions of correspondents were of considerable assistance to
the success of the 'Mirror.' Of these Lord Hailes was the most
industrious; among other promoters we find the names of Mr.
Richardson, Professor of Humanity at Glasgow; Mr. Fraser Tytler,
Advocate and Professor of History in the University of Edinburgh; Mr.
D. Hume, Professor of Scots Laws at Edinburgh, nephew of the
celebrated David Hume; D. Beattie; Cosmo Gordon, Esq., one of the
Barons of Exchequer in Scotland; Mr. W. Strahan, of London, the King's
printer; Mr. Baron Gordon, &c.
[Illustration]
THE 'MIRROR.'
A Periodical Paper Published at Edinburgh in the Years 1779 and 1780.
Veluti in speculo.
'No child ever heard from its nurse the story of "Jack the Giant
Killer's Cap of Darkness" without envying the pleasures of
invisibility.
'This power is, in some degree, possessed by the writer of an
anonymous paper. He can at least exercise it for a purpose for which
people would be most apt to use the privilege of being invisible: to
wit, that of hearing what is said of himself.
'A few hours after the publication of my first number, I sallied
forth, with all the advantages of invisibility, to hear an account of
myself and my paper.
'A smart-looking young man, in green, said he was sure it would be
very satirical; his companion, in scarlet, was equally certain that it
would be very stupid. But with this last prediction I was not much
offended, when I discovered that its author had not read the first
number, but only inquired of Mr. Creech where it was published.
[Illustration]
'A plump round figure, near the fire, who had just put on his
spectacles to examine the paper, closed the debate by observing, with
a grave aspect, that, as the author was anonymous, it was proper to be
very cautious in talking of the performance. After glancing over the
pages, he said he could have wished they had set apart a corner for
intelligence from America; but, having taken off his spectacles,
wiped, and put them into their case, he said, with a tone of
discovery, he had found out the reason why there was nothing of that
sort in the "Mirror"--it was in order to save the tax upon
newspapers.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. I. No. 4.
Meliora pii docuere parentes.
The following is an extract from a letter, addressed by a parent to
the editor, on the evil consequences of sending youths to Paris to
finish their education:--
'When the day of their return came, my girl, who had been constantly
on the look-out, ran to tell me she saw a postchaise driving to the
gate. But, judge of my astonishment when I saw two pale, emaciated
figures get out of the carriage, in their dress and looks resembling
monkeys rather than human creatures. What was still worse, their
manners were more displeasing than their appearance. When my daughter
ran up, with tears of joy in her eyes, to embrace her brother, he held
her from him, and burst into an immoderate fit of laughter at
something in her dress that appeared to him ridiculous. He was joined
in the laugh by his younger brother, who was pleased, however, to say
that the girl was not ill-looking, and, when taught to put on her
clothes, and to use a little _rouge_, would be tolerable.
[Illustration]
'Mortified as I was at this impertinence, the partiality of a parent
led me to impute it, in a great measure, to the levity of youth; and I
still flattered myself that matters were not so bad as they appeared
to be. In these hopes I sat down to dinner. But there the behaviour of
the young gentlemen did not, by any means, tend to lessen my chagrin.
There was nothing at table they could eat; they ran out in praise of
French cookery, and seemed even to be adepts in the science; they knew
the component ingredients of most fashionable _ragoûts_ and
_fricandeaus_, and were acquainted with the names and characters of
the most celebrated practitioners of the art in Paris.
'In short, it was found these unfortunate youths had returned
ignorant of everything they ought to know, their minds corrupted,
their bodies debilitated, and their vanity and conceit making them
incapable of listening to reason or advice.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. I. No. 10.
Mr. Fleetwood, a man of excessive refinement and delicacy of taste, is
described as paying visits to his friends in the country. But the
pleasures which might possibly be derived from this exercise are
marred by his false sensibility.
'Our next visit was to a gentleman of liberal education and elegant
manners, who, in the earlier part of his life, had been much in the
polite world. Here Mr. Fleetwood expected to find pleasure and
enjoyment sufficient to atone for his two previous experiences which
were far from agreeable; but here, too, he was disappointed.
'Mr. Selby, for that was our friend's name, had been several years
married. His family increasing, he had retired to the country, and,
renouncing the bustle of the world, had given himself up to domestic
enjoyments; his time and attention were devoted chiefly to the care of
his children. The pleasure which he himself felt in humouring all
their little fancies made him forget how troublesome that indulgence
might be to others.
[Illustration]
'The first morning we were at his house, when Mr. Fleetwood came into
the parlour to breakfast, all the places at table were occupied by the
children; it was necessary that one of them should be displaced to
make room for him; and, in the disturbance which this occasioned, a
teacup was overturned, and scalded the finger of Mr. Selby's eldest
daughter, a child about seven years old, whose whimpering and
complaining attracted the whole attention during breakfast. That being
over, the eldest boy came forward with a book in his hand, and Mr.
Selby asked Mr. Fleetwood to hear him read his lesson. Mrs. Selby
joined in the request, though both looked as if they were rather
conferring a favour on their guest. The eldest had no sooner
finished, than the youngest boy presented himself; upon which his
father observed that it would be doing injustice to Will not to hear
him as well as his elder brother Jack, and in this way was my friend
obliged to spend the morning in performing the office of a
schoolmaster to the children in succession.
'Mr. Fleetwood liked a game at whist, and promised himself a party in
the evening, free from interruption. Cards were accordingly proposed,
but Mrs. Selby observed that her little daughter, who still complained
of her scalded finger, needed amusement as much as any of the company.
In place of cards, Miss Harriet insisted on the "game of the goose."
Down to it we sat, and to a stranger it would have been not unamusing
to see Mr. Fleetwood, with his sorrowful countenance, at the "royal
and pleasant game of the goose," with a child of seven years old. It
is unnecessary to dwell longer on particulars. During all the time we
were at Mr. Selby's the delighted parents were indulging their
fondness, while Mr. Fleetwood was repining and fretting in secret.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. I. No. 117.
Inanit veteres statuas Damasippus emendo.--_Hor._
A wife is writing to the 'Mirror' upon a new affliction which has
attacked her husband. He happened to receive a crooked shilling in
exchange for some of his goods (the husband was a grocer), and a
virtuoso informed him that it was a coin of Alexander III., of great
rarity and value, whereupon the good man became seized with a passion
for collecting curiosities.
'His taste,' says the wife's letter, 'ranges from heaven above to the
earth beneath, and to the waters under the earth. Every production of
nature or of art, remarkable either for beauty or deformity, but
particularly if either _scarce_ or _old_, is now the object of my
husband's avidity. The profits of our business, once considerable, but
now daily diminishing, are expended, not only on coins, but on shells,
lumps of different coloured stones, dried butterflies, old pictures,
ragged books, and worm-eaten parchments.
'Our house, which it was once my highest pleasure to keep in order, it
would be now equally vain to attempt cleaning as the ark of Noah.
The children's bed is supplied by an Indian canoe; and the poor little
creatures sleep three of them in a hammock, slung up to the roof
between a _stuffed crocodile_ and the skeleton of a _calf with two
heads_. Even the commodities of our shop have been turned out to make
room for trash and vermin. _Kites_, _owls_, and _bats_ are perched
upon the top of our shelves; and it was but yesterday that, putting my
hand into a glass jar that used to contain pickles, I laid hold of a
large _tarantula_ in place of a mangoe.
[Illustration]
'In the bitterness of my soul, Mr. Mirror, I have been often tempted
to revenge myself on the objects of my husband's phrenzy, by burning,
smashing, and destroying them without mercy; but, besides that such
violent procedure might have effects too dreadful upon a brain which,
I fear, is already much unsettled, I could not take such a course
without being guilty of a fraud to our creditors, several of whom
will, I believe, sooner or later, find it their only means of
reimbursement to take back each man his own monsters.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. I. No. 25.
[Illustration]
The 'Mirror' prints a letter upon the grievances felt by the families
of men of small fortunes when associated with those enjoying great
ones.
'You will remember, sir, my account of a visit which my daughters paid
to a great lady in our neighbourhood, and of the effects which that
visit had upon them. I was beginning to hope that time, and the
sobriety of manners which home exhibited, would restore them to their
former situation, when, unfortunately, a circumstance happened still
more fatal to me than their expedition to ----. This, sir, was the
honour of a visit from the great lady in return.
[Illustration]
'I was just returning from the superintendence of my ploughs, in a
field I have lately enclosed, when I was met, on the green before my
door, by a gentleman (for such I took him to be) mounted upon a very
handsome gelding, who asked me, by the appellation of _honest friend_,
if this was not Mr. Homespun's; and, in the same breath, whether the
ladies were at home. I told him my name was Homespun, the house was
mine, and my wife and daughters were, I believed, within. Upon this,
the young man, pulling off his hat, and begging my pardon for calling
me _honest_, said he was despatched by Lady ----, with her
compliments, to Mrs. and Misses Homespun, and that, if convenient, she
intended herself the honour of dining with them, on her return from
B---- Park (the seat of another great and rich lady in our
neighbourhood).
'I confess, Mr. Mirror, I was struck somewhat of a heap with the
message; and it would not, in all probability, have received an
immediate answer, had it not been overheard by my eldest daughter, who
had come to the window on the appearance of a stranger.
'"Mr. Papillot," said she, immediately, "I rejoice to see you; I hope
your lady and all the family are well." "Very much at your service,
ma'am," he replied, with a low bow; "my lady sent me before, with the
offer of her best compliments, and that, if convenient"--and so forth,
repeating his words to me. "She does us infinite honour," said my
young madam; "let her ladyship know how happy her visit will make us;
but, in the meantime, Mr. Papillot, give your horse to one of the
servants, and come in and have a glass of something after your ride."
"I am afraid," answered he (pulling out his right-hand watch, for,
would you believe it, sir, the fellow had one in each fob), "I shall
hardly have time to meet my lady at the place she appointed me." On a
second invitation, however, he dismounted, and went into the house,
leaving his horse to the care of the servants; but the servants, as my
daughter very well knew, were all in the fields at work; so I, who
have a liking for a good horse, and cannot bear to see him neglected,
had the honour of putting Mr. Papillot's horse in the stable myself.'
The arrival of the distinguished party completely upset Mr. Homespun's
establishment, turned the heads of his entire family, and annihilated
the effect of all his good teachings.
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. I. No. 50.
'It was formerly one of those national boasts which are always
allowable, and sometimes useful, that the ladies of Scotland possessed
a purity of conduct and delicacy of manners beyond that of most other
countries. Free from the bad effects of overgrown fortunes, and from
the dissipated society of an overgrown capital, their beauty was
natural and their minds were uncorrupted.
'Formerly a London journey was attended with some difficulty and
danger, and posting thither was an achievement as masculine as a
fox-chase. Now the goodness of the roads and the convenience of the
vehicles render it a matter of only a few days' moderate exercise for
a lady; _Facilis descensus Averni_; our wives and daughters are
carried thither to see the world, and we are not to wonder if some of
them bring back only that knowledge of it which the most ignorant can
acquire and the most forgetful retain. That knowledge is communicated
to a certain circle on their return; the imitation is as rapid as it
is easy; they emulate the English, who before have copied the French;
the dress, the phrase, and the _morale_ of Paris is transplanted first
to London, and thence to Edinburgh; and even the sequestered regions
of the country are sometimes visited in this northern progress of
politeness.
[Illustration]
'It will be said, perhaps, that there is often a levity of behaviour
without any criminality of conduct; that the lady who talks always
loud, and sometimes free, goes much abroad, or keeps a crowd of
company at home, rattles in a public place with a circle of young
fellows, or flirts in a corner with a single one, does all this
without the smallest bad intention, merely as she puts on a cap and
sticks it with feathers because she has seen it done by others whose
rank and fashion entitle them to her imitation.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. II. No. 44.
Sit mihi fas audita loqui.
'Passing the Exchange a few days ago, I perceived a little before me a
short, plump-looking man, seeming to set his watch by St. Giles's
clock, which had just then struck two. On observing him more closely,
I recognised Mr. Blubber, with whom I had been acquainted at the house
of our mutual friend Mr. Bearskin.
[Illustration]
'He recollected me, and, shaking me cordially by the hand, told me he
was just returned safe from his journey to the Highlands, and had been
regulating his watch by our town clock, as he found the sun did not go
exactly in the Highlands as it did in the Low country. He added, that
if I would come and eat a Welsh rare-bit and drink a glass of punch
with him and his family that evening, at their lodgings hard by, they
would give me an account of their expedition.
'When I went to their lodgings in the evening, I could not help making
one preliminary observation, that it was much too early in the season
for visiting the country to advantage; but to this Mr. Blubber had a
very satisfactory answer: they were resolved to complete their tour
before the new tax upon post-horses should be put in execution.
'The first place they visited after they left Edinburgh was Carron,
which Mr. Blubber seemed to prefer to any place he had seen; but the
ladies did not appear to have relished it much. The mother said, "She
was like to have fell into a fit at the noise of the great bellows."
Miss Blubber agreed that it was _monstrous_ frightful indeed. Miss
Betsy had spoiled her petticoat in getting in, and said it was a nasty
place, not fit for genteel people, in her opinion. Blubber put on his
wisest face, and observed that women did not know the use of them
things. There was much the same difference in their sentiments with
regard to the Great Canal. Mr. Blubber took out a piece of paper, on
which he had marked down the _lockage duty_ received in a week there;
he shook his head, however, and said he was sorry to find the shares
_below par_.
'Taymouth seemed to strike the whole family. The number and beauty of
the temples were taken particular notice of; nor was the trimness of
the walks and hedges without commendation. Miss Betsy Blubber declared
herself charmed with the shady walk by the side of the Tay, and
remarked what an excellent fancy it was to shut out the view of the
river, so that you might hear the stream without seeing it. Mr.
Blubber, however, objected to the vicinity of the hills, and Mrs.
Blubber to that of the lake, which she was sure must be extremely
unwholesome.
'But, however various were the remarks of the family on the
particulars of their journey in detail, I found they had perfectly
settled their respective opinions of travelling in general. The ladies
had formed their conclusion that it was monstrous pleasant, and the
gentleman his that it was monstrous dear.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. II. No. 50.
A correspondent is addressing the 'Mirror' on the ill effects of
listlessness, indolence, and an aversion to profitable exertion. The
writer describes his visit to a barrister without practice, who,
having been left a small competence, had relinquished his profession
to engage in literary pursuits.
Mr. Mordant, the literary recluse, on his friend's arrival, was
discovered cultivating his kitchen garden. The visitor is conducted
through the grounds, which had been laid out in accordance with the
owner's taste.
[Illustration]
'Near a village, on our way homewards, we met a set of countrymen
engaged at cricket, and soon after a marriage company dancing the
bride's dance upon the green. My friend, with a degree of gaiety and
alacrity which I had never before seen him display, not only engaged
himself, but compelled me likewise to engage in the exercise of the
one and the merriment of the other. In a field before his door an old
horse, blind at one eye, came up to us at his call, and ate the
remainder of the grains from his hand from which he had previously fed
a flock of tame pigeons.
'Our conversation for that evening, relating chiefly to the situation
of our common friends, memory of former scenes, and other subjects as
friends naturally converse about after a long absence, afforded me
little opportunity of gratifying my curiosity. Next morning I arose at
my wonted early hour, and stepping into his study found it unoccupied.
Upon examining a heap of books and papers that lay confusedly mingled
on the table and the floor, I was surprised to find that by much the
greater part of them, instead of metaphysics and morals (the branches
connected with his scheme of writing), treated of _Belles Lettres_, or
were calculated merely for amusement. There was, besides, a journal
of his occupations for several weeks, from which, as it affords a
picture of his situation, I transcribe a part:--
'"_Thursday, eleven at night.--Went to bed: ordered my servant to wake
me at six, resolving to be busy all next day._
'"_Friday morning.--Waked a quarter before six; fell asleep again, and
did not wake till eight._
'"_Till nine read the first act of Voltaire's 'Mahomet,' as it was too
late to begin serious business._
[Illustration]
'"_Ten.--Having swallowed a short breakfast, went out for a moment in
my slippers. The wind having left the east, am engaged by the beauty
of the day to continue my walk. Find a situation by the river where
the sound of my flute produced a very singular and beautiful
echo--make a stanza and a half by way of an address to it--visit the
shepherd lying ill of a low fever, find him somewhat better (mem.--to
send him some wine)--meet the parson, and cannot avoid asking him to
dinner--returning home find my reapers at work--superintend them in
the absence of John, whom I send to inform the house of the parson's
visit--read, in the meantime, part of Thomson's 'Seasons,' which I had
with me--from one to six plagued with the parson's news and
stories--take up 'Mahomet' to put me in good humour; finish it, the
time allotted for serious study being elapsed--at eight, applied to
for advice by a poor countryman, who had been oppressed; cannot say as
to the law; give him some money--walk out at sunset to consider the
causes of the pleasure arising from it--at nine, sup, and sit till
eleven hearing my nephew read, and conversing with my mother, who was
remarkably well and cheerful--go to bed._
'_"Saturday. Some company arrived--to be filled up to-morrow_"--(for
that and the two succeeding days there was no further entry in the
journal).
'"_Tuesday.--Waked at seven; but, the weather being rainy and
threatening to confine me all day, lay till nine--ten, breakfasted and
read the newspapers; very dull and drowsy--eleven, day clears up, and
I resolve on a short ride to clear my head._"
[Illustration]
'A few days' residence with him showed me that his life was in
reality, as is here represented, a medley of feeble exertions,
indolent pleasures, secret benevolence, and broken resolutions. Nor
did he pretend to conceal from me that his activity was not now so
constant as it had been; but he insisted that he still could, when he
thought proper, apply with his former vigour, and flattered himself
that these frequent deviations from his plan of employment, which in
reality were the fruit of indolence and weakness, arose from reason
and conviction.
'"_After all_," said he to me one day, when I was endeavouring to
undeceive him, "_after all, granting what you allege, if I be happy,
and really am so, what more could activity, fame, or preferment bestow
upon me?_"
'After a stay of some weeks I departed, convinced that his malady was
past a cure, and lamenting that so much real excellence and ability
should be thus in a great measure lost to the world, as well as to
their possessor, by the attendance of a single fault.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. II. No. 56.
The following letter is from a dweller in the country, an ardent lover
of retirement, who is enchanted with the simplicity of life and
incident to be encountered in a pastoral retreat:--
'My dear Sir,--The moment I found myself disengaged from business, you
know I left the smoke and din of your blessed city, and hurried away
to pure skies and quiet at my cottage.
[Illustration]
'You must have heard that our spring was singularly pleasant; but how
pleasant it was _you_ could not feel in your dusky atmosphere. My
sister remarked that it had a faint resemblance to the spring of ----.
Although I omit the year, you may believe that several seasons have
passed away since that animating era recollected by my sister. "Alas!
my friend," said I, "seasons return, but it is only to the young and
the fortunate." A tear started in her eye, yet she smiled and resumed
her tranquillity.
'We sauntered through the kitchen-garden, and admired the rapid
progress of vegetation. "Everything is very forward," said my sister;
"we must begin to bottle _gooseberries_ to-morrow." "Very forward,
indeed," answered I. "This reminds me of the young ladies whom I have
seen lately--they seem forward enough, though a little out of season
too."
'It was a poor witticism, but it lay in my way, and I took it up. Next
morning the gardener came to our breakfasting-parlour. "Madam," said
he, "all the gooseberries are gone." "Gone!" cried my sister; "and
_who_ could be so audacious? Brother, you are a justice of the peace;
do make out a warrant directly to search for and apprehend. We have an
agreeable neighbourhood, indeed! the insolence of the rabble of
servants, of low-born, purse-proud folks, is not to be endured." "The
gooseberries are not away," continued the gardener; "they are lying in
heaps under the bushes; last night's frost, and a hail-shower this
morning, have made the crop fail." "The crop fail!" exclaimed my
sister; "and where am I to get gooseberries for bottling?" "Come,
come, my dear," said I; "they tell me that in Virginia pork has a
peculiar flavour from the peaches on which the hogs feed; you can let
in the goslings to pick up the gooseberries, and I warrant you that
this unlooked-for food will give them a relish far beyond that of any
green geese of our neighbours at the castle." "Brother," replied she,
"you are a philosopher." I quickly discovered that, while endeavouring
to turn one misfortune into jest, I recalled another to her
remembrance, for it seems that, by a series of domestic calamities,
all her goslings had perished.
[Illustration]
'A very promising family of turkey chicks has at length consoled her
for the fate of the goslings, and on rummaging her store-room she
finds that she has more bottled gooseberries left of last year than
will suffice for the present occasions of our little family.
'That people of sense should allow themselves to be affected by the
most trivial accident is ridiculous. There are, indeed, some things
which, though hardly real evils, cannot fail to vex the wisest and
discompose the equanimity of the most patient; for example, that
fulsome court paid by the vulgar to rich upstarts, and the daily
slights to which decayed nobility is exposed.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. II. No. 68.
'One morning during my late visit to Mr. Umphraville (the writer of
the previous letter on life in the country), as that gentleman, his
sister, and I were sitting at breakfast, my old friend John came in,
and delivered a sealed card to his master. After putting on his
spectacles, and reading it with attention, "Ay," said Umphraville,
"this is one of your modern improvements. I remember the time when one
neighbour could have gone to dine with another without any fuss or
ceremony; but now, forsooth, you must announce your intention so many
days before; and by-and-by I suppose the intercourse between two
country gentlemen will be carried on with the same stiffness of
ceremonial that prevails among your small German princes. Sister, you
must prepare a feast on Thursday. Colonel Plum says he intends to have
the honour of waiting on us." "Brother," replied Miss Umphraville,
"you know we don't deal in giving feasts; but if Colonel Plum can dine
on a plain dinner, without his foreign dishes and French sauces, I can
prepare him a bit of good mutton, and a hearty welcome."
'On the day appointed, Colonel Plum arrived, and along with him the
gay, the sprightly Sir Bobby Button, who had posted down to the
country to enjoy two days' shooting at Colonel Plum's, where he
arrived just as that gentleman was setting out for Mr. Umphraville's.
Sir Bobby, always easy, and who, in every society, is the same,
protested against the Colonel's putting off his visit, and declared he
would be happy to attend him.
'Though I had but little knowledge of Sir Bobby, I was perfectly
acquainted with his character; but to Umphraville he was altogether
unknown, and I promised myself some amusement from the contrast of two
persons so opposite in sentiments, in manners, and in opinions.
'When he was presented I observed Umphraville somewhat shocked with
his dress and figure, in both of which, it must be confessed, he
resembled a monkey of a larger size. Sir Bobby, however, did not allow
him much time to contemplate his external appearance, for he
immediately, without any preparation or apology, began to attack the
old gentleman on the bad taste of his house, and of everything about
it. "Why the devil," said he, "don't you enlarge your windows, and cut
down those damned hedges and trees that spoil your lawn so miserably?
If you would allow me, I would undertake, in a week's time, to give
you a clever place." To this Umphraville made no answer; and indeed
the baronet was so fond of hearing himself talk, and chattered away at
such a rate, that he neither seemed to desire nor to expect an answer.
[Illustration]
'On Miss Umphraville's coming in, he addressed himself to her, and,
after displaying his dress, and explaining some particulars with
regard to it, he began to entertain her with an account of the
gallantries in which he had been engaged the preceding winter in
London. He talked as if no woman could resist his persuasive address
and elegant figure--as if London were one great seraglio, and he
himself the mighty master of it.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. II. No. 74.
'Dreams depend in part on the state of the air; that which has power
over the passions may reasonably be presumed to have power over the
thoughts of men. Now, most people know by experience how effectual, in
producing joy and hope, are pure skies and sunshine, and that a long
continuance of dark weather brings on solicitude and melancholy. This
is particularly the case with those persons whose nervous system has
been weakened by a sedentary life and much thinking; and they, as I
hinted formerly, are most subject to troublesome dreams. If the
external air can affect the motions of so heavy a substance as mercury
in the tube of a barometer, we need not wonder that it should affect
those finer liquids that circulate through the human body.
'How often, too, do thoughts arise during the day which we cannot
account for, as uncommon, perhaps, and incongruous, as those which
compose our dreams! Once, after riding thirty miles in a very high
wind, I remember to have passed a night of dreams that were beyond
description terrible; insomuch that I at last found it expedient to
keep myself awake, that I might no more be tormented with them. Had I
been superstitious, I should have thought that some disaster was
impending. But it occurred to me that the tempestuous weather I had
encountered the preceding day might be the occasion of all these
horrors; and I have since, in some medical author, met with a remark
to justify the conjecture.'
[Illustration]
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. III. No. 79.
OF PASTORAL POETRY.
'It may be doubted whether the representation of sentiments belonging
to the _real_ inhabitants of the country, who are strangers to all
refinement, or those entertained by a person of an elegant and
cultivated mind, who from choice retires into the country with a view
of enjoying those pleasures which it affords, is calculated to produce
a more interesting picture. If the former is recommended by its
_naïveté_ and simplicity, it may be expected that the latter should
have the preference in point of beauty and variety.
[Illustration]
'The enlargement of the field of pastoral poetry would surely be of
advantage, considering how much the common topics of that species of
writing are already exhausted. We are become weary of the ordinary
sentiments of shepherds, which have been so often repeated, and which
have usually nothing but the variety of expression to recommend them.
The greater part of the productions which have appeared under the name
of pastorals are, accordingly, so insipid as to have excited little
attention; which is the more remarkable because the subjects which
they treat of naturally interest the affections, and are easily
painted in such delusive colours as tend to soothe the imagination by
romantic dreams of happiness.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. III. No. 84.
'To dispute the right of fashion to enlarge, to vary, or to change the
ideas, both of man and woman kind, were a want of good breeding, of
which the author of a periodical publication, who throws himself, as
it were, from day to day on the protection of the polite world, cannot
be supposed capable.
'I pay, therefore, little regard to the observations of some
antiquated correspondents who pretend to set up what they call the
invariable notions of things against the opinions and practice of
people of condition.
'I am afraid that Edinburgh (talking like a man who has travelled) is
but a sort of mimic metropolis, and cannot fairly pretend to the same
license of making a fool of itself as London or Paris. The circle,
therefore, taking them _en gros_, of our fashionable people here, have
seldom ventured on the same beautiful irregularity in dress, in
behaviour, or in manners that is frequently practised by the leaders
of _ton_ in the capital of France or England.
[Illustration]
'With individuals the same rule of subordination is to be observed,
which, however, persons of extraordinary parts, of genius above their
condition, are sometimes apt to overlook. I perceive, in the pit of
the play-house, some young men who have got fuddled on punch, as noisy
and as witty as the gentlemen in the boxes who have been drinking
Burgundy; and others, who have come sober from the counter or
writing-desk, give almost as little attention to the play as men of
3,000 l. a year. My old school acquaintance, Jack Wou'd-be, t'other
morning had a neckcloth as dirty as a lord's, and picked his teeth
after dinner, for a quarter of an hour, by the assistance of the
little mirror in the lid of his tooth-pick case. I take the first
opportunity of giving him a friendly hint, that this practice is
elegant only in a man who has made the tour of Europe.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. III. No. 32.
_An Essay upon Figure-Makers._
'There is a species of animal, several of whom must have fallen under
the notice of everybody present, which it is difficult to class either
among the witty or the foolish, the clever or the dull, the wise or
the mad, who, of all others, have the greatest propensity to
figure-making. Nature seems to have made them up in haste, and to have
put the different ingredients, above referred to, into their
composition at random. Here there is never wanting a junta of them of
both sexes, who are liked or hated, admired or despised, who make
people laugh, or set them asleep, according to the fashion of the time
or the humour of the audience, but who have always the satisfaction of
talking themselves, or of being talked of by others. With us, indeed,
a very moderate degree of genius is sufficient for this purpose; in
small societies folks are set agape by small circumstances. I have
known a lady here contrive to make a figure for half the winter on the
strength of a plume of feathers, or the trimming of a petticoat; and a
gentleman make shift to be thought a fine fellow, only by outdoing
everybody else in the thickness of his _queue_, or the height of his
foretop.'
[Illustration]
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. III. No. 98.
A student of 'good parts' has accepted, for one year, the post of
resident tutor to a young gentleman with rich expectations. He writes
to the 'Mirror,' describing the little progress he can make in the
advancement of his pupil's education, owing to the frivolous
interruptions which postpone serious application from day to day.
Study has been already set aside, on various pretexts, for the first
four days of the week. The close of his letter relates how he fared on
the Friday and Saturday.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
'"You must know," says Mrs. Flint, the gentleman's mamma, at
breakfast, "that I am assured that Jemmy is very like the Count de
Provence, the King of France's own brother. Now Jemmy is sitting for
his picture to Martin, and I thought it would be right to get the
_friseur_, whom you saw last night [he has just arrived from Paris],
to dress his hair like the Count de Provence, that Mr. Martin might
make the resemblance more complete. Jemmy has been under his hands
since seven o'clock. Oh, here he comes!" "Is it not charming?"
exclaimed Miss Juliana. "I wish your future bride could see you,"
added the happy mother. My pupil, lost in the labyrinth of cross
curls, seems to look about for himself. "What a powdered sheep's head
have we got here?" cried Captain Winterbottom. We all went to Mr.
Martin's to assist him in drawing Jemmy's picture. On our return, Mrs.
Flint discovered that her son had got an inflammation in his right eye
by looking steadfastly on the painter. She ordered a poultice of
bread and milk, and put him to bed; so there was no more talk of
"Omnibus in terris" for that evening.
'My pupil came down to breakfast in a complete suit of black, with
weepers, and a long mourning-cravat. The Count de Provence's curls
were all demolished, and there remained not a vestige of powder on his
hair. "Bless me!" cried I, "what is the matter?" "Oh, nothing," said
Mrs. Flint; "a relation of mine is to be interred at twelve, and Jemmy
has got a burial letter. We ought to acknowledge our friends on such
melancholy occasions, I mean to send Jemmy with the coach-and-six; it
will teach him how to behave himself in public places."
'At dinner my pupil expressed a vehement desire to go to the play.
"There is to be 'Harlequin Highlander,' and the blowing up of the St.
Domingo man-of-war," said he; "it will be vastly comical and curious."
"Why, Jemmy," said Mrs. Flint, "since this is Saturday, I suppose your
tutor will have no objection; but be sure to put on your great coat,
and to take a chair in coming home." "I thought," said I, "that we
might have made some progress at our books this evening." "Books on
Saturday afternoon!" cried the whole company; "it was never heard of."
I yielded to conviction; for, indeed, it would have been very
unreasonable to have expected that he who had spent the whole week in
idleness should begin to apply himself to his studies on the evening
of Saturday.'
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. III. No. 105.
The editor is enlarging on certain vanities and fashionable
absurdities which town people, when they rusticate for change of air,
cannot forbear importing with them.
'In the first place, I would beg of those who migrate from the City
not to carry too much of the town with them into the country. I will
allow a lady to exhibit the newest-fashioned cut in her riding-habit,
or to astonish a country congregation with the height of her
head-dress; and a gentleman, in like manner, to _sport_, as they term
it, a grotesque pattern of a waistcoat, or to set the children agape
by the enormous size of his buckles. These are privileges to which
gentlemen and ladies may be thought to have entitled themselves by the
expense and trouble of a winter's residence in the capital. But there
is a provoking though a civil sort of consequence such people are apt
to assume in conversation which, I think, goes beyond the just
prerogative of _township_, and is, a very unfair encroachment on the
natural rights of their friends and relations in the country. They
should consider that though there are certain subjects of _ton_ and
fashion on which they may pronounce _ex cathedrâ_ (if I may be allowed
so pedantic a phrase) yet that, even in the country, the senses of
hearing, seeing, tasting, and smelling may be enjoyed to a certain
extent, and that a person may like or dislike a new song, a new
lutestring, a French dish, or an Italian perfume, though such person
has been unfortunate enough to pass last winter at a hundred miles'
distance from the metropolis.'
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE 'MIRROR.'--Vol. III. No. 108.
The editor is recounting a deeply sentimental story, written with all
seriousness, in a style sufficiently burlesque and laughable. It
refers to the love of Sir Edward, an English gentleman, who, while
travelling in Piedmont, had met with an accidental fall from his
horse, and been carried to the residence of a small proprietor named
Venoni, for whose daughter the baronet immediately conceived a
tenderness, which was returned by the fair Louisa.
'The disclosure of Sir Edward's passion was interrupted by the
untoward arrival of Louisa's parent, accompanied with one of their
neighbours, a coarse, vulgar, ignorant man, whose possessions led her
father to look upon him with favour. Venoni led his daughter aside,
told her he had brought her future husband, and that he intended they
should be married in a week at furthest.
'Next morning Louisa was indisposed, and kept her chamber. Sir Edward
was now perfectly recovered. He was engaged to go out with Venoni; but
before his departure he took up his violin, and touched a few
plaintive notes on it. They were heard by Louisa.
'In the evening she wandered forth to indulge her sorrows alone. She
had reached a sequestered spot, where some poplars formed a thicket,
on the banks of a little stream that watered the valley. A nightingale
was perched on one of them, and had already begun its accustomed song.
Louisa sat down on a withered stump, leaning her cheek upon her hand.
After a little while, the bird was scared from its perch, and flitted
from the thicket. Louisa rose from the ground, and burst into tears.
She turned--and beheld Sir Edward. His countenance had much of its
former languor; and, when he took her hand, he cast on the earth a
melancholy look, and seemed unable to speak his feelings.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
'Louisa was at last overcome. Her face was first pale as death, then
suddenly it was crossed with a crimson blush. "Oh, Sir Edward!" she
said. "What--what would you have me do?" He eagerly seized her hand,
and led her reluctant to the carriage. They entered it, and, driving
off with furious speed, were soon out of sight of those hills which
pastured the flocks of the forsaken Venoni.'