O^ * „ o *^> * . , , • o,^ °^ V 4- V ^ > **. 4 Q* j, *«,..' .0-' %> ».,,• ^ o * OB o' .o' W *b v* v^V A v ^ THINKS-I-TO-M YSELF : SERIO-LUDICRO, TRAGICO-COMICO TALE, WRITTEN BY THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, ffiOfJO? TENTH EDITION. LONDON : PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD AND CO. 1829. ,HtTr PREFACE, DEDICATION, INTRODUCTION, ADVERTISEMENT TO THE PUBLIC, %c. $c. $c. $c.$c. The Seventh Edition of " Thinks-I-to-myself ,, being called for within nine months from the publica- tion of theirs/, it is become almost necessary that the Author should return his thanks to the Publie for their very favourable reception of it, and for the countenance they have given to it. Therefore, generous public! I do hereby most cordially, most gratefully, most unfeignedly, most sincerely, and most humbly thank you for the honour conferred upon me : very much admiring your refined taste, critical acumen, clear discern- ment, and excellent judgment. You have indeed been so very kind, and have afforded me so great encouragement, unseen and B 2 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. unknown, that you appear almost entitled to my very utmost confidence, and to have a regular claim to be informed who I really am ; for I find from the communications of many correspondents that they have been disappointed in looking for me (as I advise in my book) in the Peerages and Court Calendar ; and that in fact, and to speak the plain truth, no such Peers are to be found, as either Lord Tay-and-Tumble, or Lord Kilgarnock ; nor of course any intimation of their abode and family. Who then, can I be ? — If I should pretend to " know myself" nobody, I am confident, would give me credit ; it w T ould be entirely contrary to all experience and all expecta- tion, whether ancient or modern, Pagan or Christian. I beg leave, therefore, to declare at once, that I positively disclaim all such pretensions ; nay, I must affirm, that I do not know myself, if the pre- sent book, which is undoubtedly all of my own writing, be really so clever, droll, and ingenious, as some, even of the Reviewers, have pronounced it to be. I am not aware, that I am half so comical as some persons fancy me to be, and I am very certain, that I am not half so severe, as a few others, of whose strictures I have been informed, are inclined to think me — at all events, I cannot well be both dull THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 3 and clever too; and yet I know, from indisputable authority, that while some have asserted this to be a performance truly comic and ludicrous, certain other persons, whom I could name, have openly and publicly declared it to be as stupid a book as ever they read in their lives. I take comfort from the old and homely proverb, " The proof of the pud- ding is in the eating ;" the Public have eaten al- ready four thousand two hundred and fifty of my puddings, and as they still call out for more, I hope they have not disagreed with their stomachs, nor offended their palates. While it remains, however, a mystery to the world in general, who I am, I can safely say, it is become a greater mystery than ever to myself, to declare what I am. Some, I find, think me wise ; some think me very foolish ; some think me bright ; some very dull ; some that I am fair and candid in my satire ; others, that I am extremely severe and cruel. In the mean while, I have heard the book as- signed to divers persons ; to some whom I know, and to some whom I do not know. In the first place, I have heard it attributed to Mr. Owen, the Author of " The Fashionable World displayed ;" of this compliment to my genius, talents, and princi- b2 4 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. pies, I beg that reverend and most respectable writer (if he ever chance to meet with this Preface) to believe, that I have secretly and silently been extremely proud. I care not who fancies me to be such a man as Mr. Owen. L have heard it given to Mr. Beresford, the au- thor of the " Miseries of Human Life." With this Gentleman I have the pleasure of being intimately acquainted, and a merrier man I know no where ; as his happy display of human woes alluded to, may lead any person to suppose. I have no reason to think he has found me out, but as he happens to be, to my certain knowledge, not only merry, but wise too, I trust he also will do me the justice to believe, that it has been equally a matter of surprize to me, to be mistaken for him ; and, if he ever should write upon the delights of human life, he has my particular leave to put this down among the plea- sures of authorship, I have heard it attributed to two Gentlemen of the same name, I believe I am right in adding, to Mr. Robert Nares, and Mr. Edward Nares. The former Gentleman is also of my acquaintance, and I respect him highly ; so highly, that I must can- didly confess, that I believe him to be, every hour of his life, more importantly engaged than in the THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. D fabrication of such trifles ; besides, he is an Arch- deacon, and one would hope, that the dignity of his station might well avert from him, all suspicion of such an employment ; though I verily believe that he is capable of laughing as opportunely, and of thinking to as much purpose, as any-body in the world. It is a matter of absolute fact however (as I apprehend), that he has been accused of being the author, and that he has publicly disavowed it in the following notification which I read in one of the Monthly Registers : " We can assure our facetious correspondent Wits-end, that, as far as our informa- tion goes, * Thinks-I-to-myself ? was not written either by a Deacon or an Archdeacon; he may find a hint perhaps in Ferrarius ' de incognitis.' " Of the latter Gentleman, Mr. Edward Nares, I have but very little to say, having (as I can most safely affirm) never had the honour of being intro- duced to him ; having never so much as once met him in all my life ; nor ever corresponded with him. How he came to be suspected of being the author I am wholly at a loss to say. I am acquainted with some works which bear his name, written in a style so different, that any body, one would think, would acquit him of such levities. I have, however, great reason to believe that he is a firm friend to 6 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. the Constitution both in Church and State, as well as to the House of Brunswick ; and so far we are certainly in agreement. I have heard it assigned to a person least of all perhaps likely to be the real author ; though there is certainly no saying to what he might not apply his very extraordinary and multifarious talents — I have been credibly informed that a wager was once laid that the book was written by Lord Eeskine ! I relate the fact as I heard it — Lord Erskine the writer of a novel ! I ! ! — Any body will allow, that I may be proud of this compliment, and so I am — and happy 'into the bargain. First, because, if there were really no wit at all in it, his Lordship would be decidedly the last man in the whole world to be sus- pected ; and secondly, because the good nature and liberality of that noble and learned Lord are notori- ously such, that whoever could suppose it to proceed from his pen, must certainly have found in the book no marks of malevolence or personal spite ; no wan- ton abuse of the age ; no unfair satire. Thus far as to the supposed authors. It may be perhaps proper to add, that I have positively never once heard it attributed to any of the Cabinet Council, or Bench of Bishops ; to the Lord Mayor of London, or to Lucien Bonaparte. THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 7 As then I cannot undertake even yet to tell you by whom, or even by what sort of being, the book was really written, (for so different does it appear to me now, to what it did, when it first went out of my hands, that I can scarcely persuade myself at times, that I really did write it,) yet if it be so, I am very willing to inform you, as far as I am able to do it, exactly how it was written ; for this, in my own estimation, requires some notice and explanation. I do therefore positively assure you, that the original story was all written in the short space of ten days, without the smallest view to publication ; with so little plan, design, or premeditation, that the ink could not flow more freely and uninterruptedly from my pen, than the thoughts and ideas did from my brain ; so that whoever has, in the first place, fancied they have discovered in it the portraiture of any particular persons, are wonderfully mistaken. I can solemnly say, I do not myself know either Mrs. Twist, or Mrs. Fidget. If I have ever seen such characters, I forget now where it was ; if any body ever meets with those ladies, I cannot help it ; I meant nothing personal in bringing them forward . I never set my foot in Nicotium Castle in my life, and do not really live at Grumblethorpe, as the 8 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. book pretends, and therefore not in Mrs. Fidget's neighbourhood* In the second place, if any body has expected to find in the work, such an order and arrangement of events, as might be deemed critically correct, and according to the strict rules of art, I am very cer- tain they must have been greatly disappointed, since nothing could be farther from my thoughts and aim while I was writing it. That some of my readers have been so disappointed I have reason to conclude from the strictures of the Critics, I mean the Reviewers ; almost all of whom, much to their credit, have discovered in it great symptoms of haste, carelessness, and want of arrangement, which indeed, were they not to be detected in such a com- position, I should scarcely dare to own the book at all, for I should be morally certain that it could not well be mine, so apt am I in common to forget all the rigid rules of art, when I merely seek to express some particular feeling or sentiment. The Monthly Reviewers have particularly charged me with incon- sistencies, and other lapses of the above nature. The same able Critics have also, it seems, found out, that M some of the Poems are very indifferent" — So they are ; I know it as well as they ; but they THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 9 contain sentiments which I wished to propagate; and I should have heaped inconsistency upon in- consistency, had I made a Clodpole write better. Whether my true character is to be found under the title Clodpole, I shall not pretend to say ; but that is my character in the book ; and I believe they will find, that not one of the Poems is ostentatiously obtruded upon the public, as any mighty effort of taste or genius. If in fact, and after all, I should not be, in my real character of the Clodpole race, the Reviewers cannot know but that privately I am a poet of the first stamp — perhaps the Apollo of the age. I only maintain, as the book itself says, that these poems are tolerably good for a Clodpole, and that they are left to every reader's yriy&te feeling and civility. See vol. i. p. 179. 6th edit. The Editors of the British Critic, in reviewino* my book, seem to make sure that they have dis- covered me, and are pleased to tell the public, that " whoever knows the person they suppose to be the Author, will be little surprised to find on paper the reflection of that natural and unaffected humour, which has always rendered him a favourite in the social circle/' Gentlemen, I hope yov do know me ; I hope you have found me out; I am very much obliged to you indeed ; and shall be happy to see 10 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. any of you to dinner, any day you will please to appoint : you know where I live of course. It pleases me much to see that some of the Re- viewers praise the very parts I have heard found fault with, while others find fault with the very parts I heard commended. Now it is so very natural, as to be the very easiest thing in the world, to per- suade myself, that in the first instance, the Review- ers are right, and in the last the public. And thus, though I am by constitution terribly touchy, being all nerves from head to foot, I manage to reconcile matters, and to go to bed every night in good humour with one party at least. Some fine ladies, and fine gentlemen, have not been pleased I know, with what I have inserted in the 2d Vol, concerning the nursing of children ; yet the benevolent Editor of the Universal Magazine has judged this part important enough to be parti- cularly selected as a specimen of the author's good intentions, and of the utility of his observations. If any persons of respectability, however, are really tired of it, I will willingly cut it out, and they shall not be pestered with it again, that is to say, in any of the next hundred editions that are soon to appear. I will also undertake to omit any other parts that give ^ny just offence, only pray let the work go on, THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 1 1 because as I could get not one of the booksellers to buy it, I shall possibly reap considerable profit in the end, if it proceeds as it has done ; and why- it should not I do not know, any more than I know why it should; two points I still most humbly sub- mit to be settled, determined, and adjusted by the Public at large. The booksellers were not to blame for not buying it, for how could they have ever guessed that it would have had such a run ? I am sure I never expected it myself; so that they missed an excellent bargain, for I should have sold it for a song. In fact after it was written, it literally lay for at least eight months among my loose papers, unthought of, and unmeddled with, and would, I am almost certain, have never been sent to the press, but for the persuasion, (and request almost,) of a very worthy and valuable female friend and neigh- bour, in whose judgment I had the highest reason to place a confidence, but who, I grieve to record it, did not live to witness the success it has obtained. But to return to the Reviewers and Critics of all denominations — Great objections have been made, and from re- spectable quarters, (see the Monthly Review, and the public paper called the National Adviser, Dec. 14—18, 1811.) To the too frequent mention of 12 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. the bumpings of the hero Mr. Dermont's heart. — I actually think myself it does bump too much, but then I know that some of my younger readers have thought that it does not bump enough. Therefore what am I to do ? who knows but my own heart may have bumped too much in its progress through life ? where was I to find a standard ? indeed I am apt to think that nothing would be more difficult than to pretend to determine, from the private feel- ings of any individual, how many times a lover's heart may reasonably be expected to bump (or pal- pitate, which is a far more elegant and sentimental word) in any given time ; perhaps then, Mr. Review- ers, you really know nothing of the matter. You observe farther, however, upon the same point, that u the reasoning this sensation, (viz. the bumping,) into a malady is too broad a burlesque for the rest of the work." — I do not object to this remark. It is certainly a pretty broad burlesque, when supposed to fall entirely upon the sensation alluded to : but when the burlesque is halved and properly distributed among different objects, per- haps its breadth may not appear so extravagant. I therefore beg leave to observe that it ought to be so divided. Much of the burlesque should be al- lowed to fall, as I intended it, not on the love-sick THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 13 palpitations, but on those books of Symptoms, which in the hands of ignorant or hypochondriacal persons, not unfrequently (as I apprehend,) work effects of no small moment; suggesting abundance of com- plaints and maladies, that have no other founda- tion in fact, than the mere impression made at the moment by the alarming detail of symptoms enume- rated. However broad the burlesque may appear, I do solemnly protest that when I was at the Uni- versity I was called in once to a friend whom I found in bed, waiting the arrival of a Physician for whom he had sent, and in all the agonies of a most gloomy imagination, arising solely from the dis- covery of a mark across his forehead attended with pain, and which, from consulting his books, he had fully made out to be symptomatic of one of the most horrible stages of one of the most horrible disorders, to which the human frame is liable ; the whole of which however w r as brought to a most happy con- clusion by my having accidentally questioned him whether he had been wearing a new hat! for in truth I happened to have seen one lying upon his sofa as I entered the room ; had it not been for this timely discovery, and had no medical aid been at hand, I make no doubt but in a little time he would have proceeded to dose himself, with all the remedies 14 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. applicable to the dreadful symptoms suspected, (to be found in the same book) and have swallowed things ten times worse than all the salts and gums and drugs put together, which I have administered to my Hero. The Monthly Revieicers have there- fore rather mistaken me upon this point, and I hope, the Critical Reviewers also, who have passed the following cutting sentence upon this very passage. — " Here we have as complete a jargon of nonsense administered to us on ipecacuanha, asafcctida, Glau- berh-salt, socotrine aloes, jalap, and senna, as any Grub-street quill driver ever succeeded in putting on paper, with as many repetitions of ' Thinks-I-to- myself,' as the author judged proper by way of ma- king it witty." Surely the public in general will excuse my endeavouring to rescue a part of my work, which I know has been understood in its full extent by many readers, from the mis-apprehensions of such dull observers. The worldly and artificial manners of Mr. and Mrs. Dermont, as represented at the beginning of the story, have been considered by the Monthly Reviewers, and by a writer in the Gentleman's Ma- gazine, as inconsistent with the wisdom, goodness, and piety, attributed to them towards the close of my book. I cannot help this — that the artificial THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 15 manners of the world are inconsistent with wisdom, piety, and goodness, is a circumstance I never meant to conceal ; but rather to publish and make known. Since then the above gentlemen have found this inconsistency to be so glaring, I hope other readers will do the same, and that a little more plain dealing than is now usual in the inter- course of rational beings, may come into vogue, and be, as far as possible, adopted. Truth, they say, (especially in courtly and polite companies,) should not be spoken at all times. Granted, but it remains to be proved, how far imtruths may be deliberately uttered at any time. Swift used often to Think-to- himself, as well as I, and he has given it as one of his private thoughts, that " an excuse is worse and more terrible than a lie, for an excuse is a lie guard- ed," — considering then how much excuses enter into the ceremonies and forms of modish life, surely I am not to blame, for shewing that they generally pass current at their true value ; that it is to be hoped they are so generally understood, that they do not infer so much moral delinquency, as the grave remark of the witty Dean of St. Patrick's would imply ; though undoubtedly all artificial manners should have their limits, that the dissimu- lation recommended by Lord Chesterfield, as almost H5 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. the sine qua non of courtly fashions, may be kept within some bounds of reason and propriety. How far "public manners J 9 in general, are "founded in truth," I do not pretend to ascertain, but I have read some shrewd and excellent remarks upon this point, in the Sketches of Truth, a small work, in 2 vols. 12mo. published in 1808. The xiith sketch in the first volume bearing that very title ; to which I refer any readers who wish to study the matter further. The Reviewer in the Gentleman's Magazine, af- ter saying many very handsome things of the work in general, is pleased to observe, " It appears to us, that when the writer began his tale, his ideas did not exactly correspond with those that mark its conclusion, and it is exceedingly obvious that the second volume is eked out more for the purposes of the publisher than for the credit of the author." Now this gentleman, whoever he be, I take to be a conjuror; I won't say exactly why, but he is certainly very clever at a conjecture. I cannot say indeed I quite like the expression " eked out;" it looks as if I had made additions, unnecessary and inapplicable, for mean and shabby purposes ; merely to extort a little more money from the pockets of the public; but this was certainly not the case. TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 17 Writing a good deal at random, I undoubtedly did not square my work by rule or measure ; so that when the printer tried to squeeze it into one volume there was too much, and when he would have di- lated it into two # there was somewhat too little , partly therefore to accommodate the printer, (the worthy and ingenious Mr. Gilbert, of St. John's- Square, whom many eminent persons know full well) and partly out of compliment to the Metro- polis, I carried my Hero to London, though rather against his oxen will and inclinations, as he telLs you himself in the book, but considering he was become a Peer, and one of the sixteen representa- tives of the Scotch Peerage, I think I could not well have done otherwise ; so that in all senses of the word, I judge this part of the work to be rather a noble addition, than any paltry "eking out," and whol ly in character. If I have said any thing at all un- civil of the metropolis, I most humbly beg pardon. Objections, I am told, have been made to the title of my book. " Thinks I" it seems, is bad grammar : so it is to be sure, for w T ho would ever be so vulgar as to say I think so and so ? I am not surprised that this slip should be detected, now that grammar, to the honour of the age, is become so * This work was originally published in two toIs. 12mo. C 18 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. indispensable an attainment. The plainest country bumpkin, now-a-days, to his honour be it spoken, if he has but ever so little money to spare, (and if he has none at all it scarcely makes any difference,) is careful to carry his girl to the tip-top boarding- school of the neighbourhood, and as he presents her to the mistress, " Ma'am" says he, "I want my dar- ter to larngrammur" So Miss lams grammur, and afterwards, to the comfort of the family, if any of them by any accident should have any ideas to express, she knows to be sure how to express them ; for she has all the parts of speech at her fingers' ends, with all the stops from a comma to a note of interrogation, though after all perhaps she makes no use of any, but puts a little dash between every five words thus — , and answers an invitation to a Christmas party in the following mix'd style : " Mr. and Mrs. W. present compliments to Mrs. S. and will wait on her at the place and hour appointed. Mrs. W t begs to inform Mrs. S., that we will take the liberty of bringing my brother Tommy with us. Mr. Mrs. and Miss W. beg to be remembered to Miss S/s, in which my cousin Alice joins, and all the party unite in wishing you a merry Christmas and happy new year when it comes." I expected to be taken to task by grammarians of this order, and I find it has THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 19 happened as I expected. I do however freely ac- knowledge, that the thoughts I have to express often occupy more of my consideration, than the grammatical construction of the sentences whereby I express them ; not that I would not wish to be correct, but that I commonly write so quick as to overlook such niceties, especially in colloquial phrases. I must, however, observe in defence of my poor title, and more especially my adoption of it, that I am careful to tell my readers in the very commencement of the work, that I regard the expression as a mere vulgarism, about as good how* ever certainly, as " methoughts," which I would have you to know, gentle critics, is to be found frequently in the Spectator, and so early, particularly as No. 3. Vol. 1. in a paper marked C, and conse- quently of Mr. Addison's own writing. After all, " Thinks- I-to-?ny self " is no modern phrase, or one of my own invention, but an ancient and very com- mon one ; and whether I picked it up on my travels through life, in a palace, or by the way side, what does it matter, if it be particularly applicable and significant for the purposes to which I apply it, and not likely to mislead any honest person whatso- ever? I wish I had less to say upon these subjects, but g 2 20 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. the more my book sells, the more anxious I am not to conceal any faults which the Reviewers may have justly pointed out, and the more desirous, of course, to guard the public against any misunderstandings or misrepresentations of my actual intentions. How difficult it is to please every-body, let a good-natured world judge from the following case : The Reviewer in the Gentleman's Magazine selects a passage from the first volume which he does me the honour to say (comparing me with Sterne,) " is equal in true point and humour to any of the most popular pas- sages of that entertaining writer." The same pas- sage is selected by the Reviewer in the British Critic, and pronounced to be M though a little Shan- dean, highly original." And yet the Critical Re- vieivers are so highly offended with it, that they can scarce find terms severe and coarse enough to express their feelings upon the subject They pro- duce this veiy part of the book " as an additional proof," they say, " of flippant vulgarity and sheer nonsense, whichThinks-I-to-myselfh&s given for wit" They beg their readers to tell them whether i( any thing can exceed such impertinence," and conclude with remarking, that " Mr. Robert Dermont is far from a gentleman; he is an underbred lout; he would not," say they, " otherwise have made so THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 21 great a mistake as to suppose that he was saying a good thing when he informs us that Mrs. Fidget died of a cancer on her tongue, because she was a great talker. It is an affront to the understanding to palm such puerile and contemptible stuff on the public." I notice these things because I can most solemnly protest, that if what is said of my book in this particular Review be correct, I would at the risk of any sacrifice, withdraw it totally from circu- lation. One passage certainly, which induces them to call me, an " underbred nasty fellow," I will willingly alter ; their comments have certainly made it so, and I am very sorry I have given the least occasion for it. Their general opinion of my book is, " that all the merit, the spirit, and the wit of it are hung on the poor tattered rag of a phrase, Thinks- I-to-my self, if merit, and spirit, and wit they may be called." As an author, I am pronounced to be not only an " underbred lout, 9 ' and an "under- bred nasty fellow" but " hoggish and flippant ;" an " hireling ;" " as complete an old woman as one may meet on a summer's day; 9 ' a " Grub-street quill-dri- ver ;" a " Flummerer of Bishops, nay of Kings and Regents." What offence can I have given to these severe nay savage critics? What can it all mean? I am 22 thinks-i-to-Myself. afraid there is prejudice in the case. It is certainly remarkable that the Critical Reviewers are the only- public journalists who yet have so far presumed upon having made a discovery of the real author as to venture to give him any name or title. But these Critics, in almost every line, speak of him as " our eZmco-friend ;" our * serio-ludicro-comico-c/mco- friend." It will be seen above, that the work has been assigned to no less than four clergymen ; and a friend has reminded me, that one of those has lately endeavoured to undeceive the public, in re- gard to the Improved Version of the New Testament published by the Unitarians, and he is confident in his own mind, that these Reviewers consider the work to be undoubtedly the performance of that particular divine. I leave that gentleman (if it be so) to the defence, protection, and vindication of those that know him better than I pretend to do. But there are some things which must touch the author nearly, as they regard his character in general, as much as the character of his book *, which indeed may no longer pass for a trifle (as I used to regard it) if it be the vehicle of doctrines and sentiments so base and abominable as these Reviewers would represent. That my supposed i/enVo-distinction must in itself be some offence, I THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 23 am rather inclined to think, from what is said in the very same number of that Review, of the cruel, vin- dictive and persecuting spirit of Bishop Porteus, in the discharge of a high (but no doubt painful) official duty; as well as of the vehement orthodoxy of Pro- fessor Marsh. This clerico seems to be the object of their attack in general ; but they object also to my loyalty and my politics; of the latter they say * " Then follows an account of our friend Clerico's politics, which is in the same style as the philippics, which we sometimes read in the papers, from the pen of some hireling who wishes to make the people be- lieve that oppression, taxes, and the high price of pro- visions are no bad things ; and that so far from being dissatisfied with half-starved stomachs, they ought to down on their knees to the ministers, and return thanks for what they can get." Good Heavens! have I really been propagating such tenets as these? If I have, I hope some member of the legislature will move that my book be burnt by the common hang-man. I would buy back all the copies that have been sold to the public at an advanced price, sooner than pass, (however personally unknown) for a man of such base principles. Have I not in express terms declared that I am a friend to every practicable reform? that I wish every grievance to 24 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. be constitutionally made known, and as constitu- tionally redressed ? that I would for ever employ any influence I might have, to rectify and amelio- rate whatever should appear capable of rectification and amelioration ; (adding, I allow, the following cautionary clause,) " without exciting or fomenting a greater spirit of discontent and uneasiness, than the real state of the case, after all fair allowances, shall seem to warrant?" — In adding which remark, I do protest, that I was actuated by no other feel- ing than what arose from the persuasion, that the excitement of any discontent and uneasiness beyond what the real state of the case warrants, is above all things cruel to the sufferers themselves ; often lead- ing them into measures more likely to aggravate than relieve their distresses, and hurrying them onto demands and expectations, which perhaps no power upon earth could satisfy. If no such mischiefs are to be apprehended from excessive discontent and uneasiness, (for I speak of no other,) I will consent to expunge the clause in question, but while my own experience and observation tell me the con- trary, why am I to suppress my sentiments upon the subject? The real state of the case, I would aver wish to be known and understood in all its circum- stances, nor do I desire that any other allowance THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 25 should be granted upon any occasion of emergency, but such as are strictly fair, just, and reasonable ; allowances zsfair and just, I mean, as the insuper- able impediments of wind and water in the case of an unsuccessful admiral ; circumstances which however uncontrollable, have to my certain knowledge in popular tumults and moments of political frenzy, scarcely been allowed to have their proper weight. These Reviewers say besides, that I am ^fium- merer of bishops ; and in another part of their work they talk of my buttering bishops. As a clodpole and a lout, I scarcely venture to say I understand such refined and elegant expressions. The only bishop I h&veflummered, or praised, or buttered, is the Honourable Dr. Shute Barrington, the bishop of Durham, in whose company I do declare I was never but once in my whole life, and that for not more than the space of ten minutes ? What I have said of him in my book, I said on this account ; that he has in his public capacity patronized almost everything that was worth patronage; and provided for many most able, learned, and worthy persons; as I verily believe, on this sole account, that they appeared to him really able, learned, and worthy. But let us see how I Imveflummered and buttered this particular bishop. I have certainly said, that 26 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. at this moment " that see is in the hands of a most munificent prelate, and I wish it may never be in worse hands." Pray mark the terms : my book was printed April, 1811. Who could ever suspect the Edinburgh Reviewers of being flummerers and but- terers of bishops ? and yet in their number for No- vember, 1811, (seven months subsequent to my own publication,) I find them thus speaking of the present Bishop of Durham : " They found, that a prelate of immense revenues, and of munificence (pray mind the word) becoming the wealth whereof he is trustee for the Church" &c. This is suffi- cient for my vindication. Clerico or laico, I do de- clare that the Bishop of Durham has served many most learned and excellent divines, merely as I ap- prehend, because they were learned and excellent ; and such bishops I will praise at the risk of any charges of flummery or buttery : sad vulgar terms, which I leave to the Critical Reviewers to defend and justify as they can. That I have complimented, or rather implored a blessing, on the King and the Regent, I do not deny ; that I have offered " adoration" to either I do deny. The King I love and venerate to a degree that I cannot describe, and I care not who knows it. The Regent I love and respect for his most amiable and THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 27 high-minded attention to, and reverence of his Fa- ther's feelings. I say no more of him in my book. I owe allegiance to both, according to the principles of the Constitution ; but I hope I am not to blame, in availing myself of every fair plea to attach my- self to those exalted individuals. The Critical Re- viewers talk of " a lick and a promise." I know not what they mean ; I do declare, I am unacquainted with the meaning of such terms. They may be vulgar, or they may be refined ; I only say, they are totally new to me. They expect me to " dress up" another " dish of flummery for his Royal High- ness" Not I. I will be as honest with his Royal Highness as with the rest of the world ; and I only wish that no man may ever be a worse friend to him than myself. If so, he will be safe, whether Regent or King. Some persons have thought (no wonder I should have set every body thinking) that from what I say of fashionable lectures, Sec. I am an enemy to the general diffusion of knowledge and cultivation of female minds particularly. Far from it I do assure you, gentle reader. I wish learning and knowledge to flow in the widest and fullest streams, and to fer- tilize the land w T e live in, from the mountain top to the lowliest valley ; but I have an anxiety upon 28 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. two points which I wish not to conceal. I should desire to see the sciences studied and cultivated, not merely for show and fashion, and so inadequate- ly and superficially, as to answer no higher ends than those of filling an empty head with conceit ; or a weak mind with pride. Public lectures may be ad- mirable assistants to private studies, but home is the place where I wish the understanding to receive its chief improvement. I object not to any young persons attending fashionable lectures on the sciences, but I object to their attending them rather because they are fashionable, than because they are useful and in- structive. I wish them in all instances to go there, as they ought to go to Church ; to hear what is to be heard, rather than to see what is to be seen, or in fact, to be seen by those who go merely to see icho is to be seen there. I care not how many drink of the " Pierian spring/' but I wish them to do as the Poet directs, " drink deep or taste not," for indeed it is too often found, that " a little knowledge is a dangerous thing." The second point upon which I feel an anxiety is, that useful and ornamental accomplishments should be justly appreciated. That the ornamental should never be accounted useful, where they are altoge- ther unnecessary, nor the useful neglected as not THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 29 ornamental, where what is most suitable must at all events be most truly ornamental. Use ought un- doubtedly to be the study of the many in all large societies, ornament the study of the few ; yet it seems to me that we are now in some danger of seeing these things reversed ; since ornamental ac- complishments appear to have become the sine-qua- non of the many, and utility the study of the few. I have a respect for all stations and occupations of life, when kept properly distinct, and I am quite prepared to admit that some of the lowest are the most useful, and therefore the most honourable and unexceptionable. I mean therefore no offence, much less any ill, when I observe that perhaps to certain classes of females, music, dancing, drawing, French and Italian, nay even grammar, are not so necessary either for use or ornament, as the customs of the day would lead one to suppose ; nor yet to certain classes of the other sex, Greek and Latin, Prosody, Rhe- toric, and Oratory in all its branches. I think I should feel as much, if not more respect, for in- stance, for any Farmer's daughter, who had no piano-forte in the corner of her room, as for one who had ; and could as freely buy beer of a brewer, or sheep of a grazier, who had never learnt " hie, h&c, hoc,' 9 or " propria quiz maribus" as from the 30 THINKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. most accomplished classical scholar. In short, I think Boarding Schools for young Ladies, and Gram- mar Schools for young Gentlemen, are somewhat too much in vogue, and that in the general thirst after admission into those seminaries, utility stands a sad chance of being sacrificed to ornament ; if ornament it may after all be called, when not suited or adapted either to the present or future circum- stances of the party. There is one branch of knowledge undoubtedly, so decisively both useful and ornamental to all classes of persons, that I would not attempt to as- sign any limits to the diffusion of it. Most heartily do 1 wish and pray that the time may soon come when, as our gracious Sovereign is said to have ex- pressed himself, " Every subject of these realms may be able to read the Bible." — Most happy should I be also, if I could at all flatter myself with the hope, that the diffusion of this knowledge, would as speedily conduce to the accomplishment of the Apostle's precept, and cause us all to become, in the fullest sense of the terms, " of one mind, to have compassion one of another, to love as brethren, to be pitiful and courteous ;" but alas ! the aspect of things is different. The Bible remains one and the same, yet most true is it, and most sad to re- THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 31 fleet upon, that the more it is studied, the more the distinctions and denominations among Religionists seem to increase ; while bad temper and bad language are still too much employed to foment these differ- ences, and widen the breaches they occasion. To what extremities this diversity of opinions will ultimately proceed, I pretend not to conjecture. My own choice is made, and I must have leave to declare that it has not been made carelessly or at random. I have studied the writings of those ivho differ from the National Church as sedulously and attentively, as I could ; but have as yet found no cause to withdraw from her communion. As sects, and distinctions, and differences increase, it is as easy to compare them one with another, as with the National Church ; and upon such a comparison, I am induced to continue attached to the latter upon this further consideration, which I affirm to be the exact result of such researches; namely, that in adopting the tenets of the Church, I find that I am in agreement in some one point or other, with almost every class of Dissenters, and that those who do not hold communion with as, differ severally far mora from each other, than any of them differ from the Church. My conclusion is, that the Church doc- trines are those which are most generally and uni- 32 THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. versally received, if not in the gross, yet severally and distinctly ; and therefore so far from the terms of her communion, being narrow and confined, they are in fact, most comprehensive, or at the least upon comparison,/ar more comprehensive than any others. I cannot conclude this Address without repeating my assurances to the Public, that " Thinks-I-to- myself," was sent to the Press with the most inno- cent intentions, as a trifle which might perhaps amuse some, perhaps reclaim a few, but at all events offend none. Its rapid sale can have surprised no- body more than its author, who would scarcely feel any longer answerable for a work so patronized, but that he sees himself in danger of having blemishes detected, which he had rather avow than pretend to conceal, and that he is sensible that he is liable to be misundersood upon some points of importance, without such an explanation as he has here at- tempted to give, of his principles and private senti- ments. His name is only withheld, because he thinks it unnecessary to disclose it; he has thought it due to some gentlemen of singular respectability who have been accused of writing his book to ex- onerate them from an imputation which might per- haps be unpleasant to them ; he does not pretend to deny that the secret has transpired to a certain THTNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 33 degree; a circumstance he would not affect to la- ment, but that it seems to have excited a spirit against the book, which the good-nature of a most indulgent public, convinces him it does not strictly deserve. The book may be exceedingly trifling, ex- ceedingly unworthy of the notice of persons of very refined taste and judgment, but he cannot pay the world so bad a compliment as to think it would all for seven Editions in so short a time, if it were eally so puerile and contemptible, vulgar, base and ow, as the Critical Reviewers would represent it to be ; whose own language, after all, if it be ele- gant and refined, is so different from any that the Author of this work would be inclined to adopt, that until the Public in general decide against him, he can- not consent to change his style upon such authority. Let it be but once determined that their expressions are pure, courtly, and correct, and the Author will acknowledge at once that his own are base, and low, and not to be endured. Jan. 1812. A LETTER CONCERNING THE PORTRAIT, RIGHT HONOURABLE (and Right Beautiful, as I doubt not) THE LADY L. M . I have duly received, through my Bookseller, Mr. Sherwood, your Ladyship's Letter, dated, &c. &c. ; in which you require to he informed, whether the Print that appeared first as a frontis- piece to the seventh Edition, is to be considered as a real portrait of the Author, or merely fancy-work. I have the honour to state to your Ladyship in reply, that it is indeed all fancy-work, mere fancy, no more like me than an Apple's like an Oyster, or an Oyster like your Ladyship. It could not well be otherwise, for I declare I never saw either the designer or engraver, either Mr. Clennell or Mr. THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 35 Hopwood, in all my life, nor they me ; it was judged fit, to say the truth, by wiser persons than myself, that something of a frontispiece or portrait should appear, and I had a very whimsical conceit in my own head upon this point, but as it happened, I could not so easily get it out of my own head ; nor, which is more to the purpose, at such a distance as I live from Mr. Clennell, could I very easily get it into his head, instead of my own. Could I but have done this, the Print would have been better, for that gentleman certainly draws very prettily, only he has not quite caught my idea ; and as to myself, I draw worse than any poker, and never therefore am able to describe my own fancies. I acquiesced in the measure of adding some sort of portrait, because it seems to be the fashion with such eminent persons as me, whose book has passed through so many editions. I remember from a child how I used to be delighted with the portraits in my spelling books, of a Mr. Ainsworth, and I think a Mr. Dilwortk also, each with a pen in his hand, and a schoolmaster's cap on his head ; and I believe some of the latter editions of Mrs. Glasse's Cookery are ornamented with a portrait of that tasty writer and elegant authoress ; so that I thought it high time, that some frontispiece of that kind should d 2 36 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. be added to my own book; especially as others advised it too : but your Ladyship cannot imagine how very unlike me it is, for I am a very little man ; in my shoes, not above five feet three inches and a quarter at the utmost. I never wear a white waist- coat, and scarcely ever sit with my hand in my bosom, or my legs so far asunder. As your Ladyship seems desirous of having some idea of my person, I will endeavour to tell you what little I know about it. My stature, as I said, is diminutive. I wear my own hair, which is darkish, and curls naturally all manner of ways, and I never do intend to wear a wig, — - Unless indeed But that your Ladyship may depend upon it, will never happen. My countenance is a veiy odd one. 1 had those indentures across my forehead, which people call wrinkles, as far as I know from my in- fancy. To the amount of about four or five horizon- tal ones divided in the middle, as it were, thus, and one very deep perpendicular one between my eyes, at the top of my nose. I very well remember being told by the famous Garrick, when I was a THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 37 boy, that I had got his mark, to which he attribu- ted much of his command of countenance ; how- ever I am not a Garrick, madam, for all this - 7 though I have trodden a stage in my time, not a public one indeed, but a very grand one, if the truth were known. A noble and celebrated Marquis, now no more, used to insist upon it, that I bore a strong resem- blance to Julius Ccesar ; but to the best of my be- lief, I am no more of & Julius Ccesar, than of a Gar- rick. My nose is not very long, nor very short ; something I think of this shape _} My eyes are, as to colour, I believe, greenish, or greyish; perhaps rather more of the latter. As to expression, your Ladyship, I am sure, w r ill not expect me to be par- ticular upon this head. I am under jawed; but my chin, and ears, and lips, and cheeks, much like other peoples. I am not at all bulky, but my breadth, at present, admirably proportioned to my height. My thumb, Madam, measures exactly two inches and six-tenths of an inch round ; which I take the liberty of mentioning to your Ladyship, because that doubled for my ivrist, and again doubled for my neck, and again for my waist, will give you a very fair idea of my size. 38 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. Your Ladyship further expresses, a tender anxiety to know whether I am married or single ; by which I think myself extremely honoured and flattered in- deed ! but, Madam, the case is, that — my wife and children desire to offer their best respects to your Ladyship, and I have the Honour to be, Your much obliged and very humble Servant, The Author. PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION. I am sorry to trouble the Public more than neces- sary, but I cannot send an Eighth Edition of Thinks- I-to-Myself to the Press, without noticing certain curious circumstances which have occurred since the publication of the Seventh. In the Preface to that Edition, I stated, that I did not pretend to know myself, (for what preten- sion more extravagant than this ?) and that I could less than ever make out what I was, in consequence of the several opinions formed of me in the world, from the perusal of my book. All this, I undoubt- edly thought at the time, was mere matter of joke. I did not seriously apprehend, that any body would suppose that I really did not know who I myself was, or what I was, or what I did or did not do ; but now, to my utter astonishment, I am, as nearly as can be, compelled to believe that all this is plain matter of fact. For, either there is another I, or I am not myself, or I am capable of having been the doer of deeds that I am confident that I never did do* 40 TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELF. I do vow and protest most solemnly, that to the best of my own personal knowledge and belief, this very work in two Volumes, 12mo. published origi- nally in April, 1811, by Messrs. Sherwood, Neely, and Jones, is the only work of the kind, I did ever print or publish in the whole course of my Life. Nevertheless not many months ago the following Advertisement appeared in the public papers. I SAYS, SAYS I. In the press, and in a few days will be published, in 2 Vols, 12mo. price 10s. 6d. boards, I says, says I. Being a ludicrous account of the Russell and Diddle Families ; and containing descriptive sketches of Characters which every one knows, and delineations of Scenes which every body has witnessed. By THINKS I TO MYSELF. Printed for J* Johnston, Cheapside, and sold by all Booksellers. I thought it extremely odd. My friends thought it extremely impudent ; and I was rather urged to contradict it. But it struck me, that in fact, / am not " Thinks-I-to-my$elf" but the AUTHOR of " Think$~I-to-my$elf" nor is " Thinks~I-to-myself" any body, either of the first, second, or third Per- THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 41 son ; and that therefore nobody was really offended. Soon after, however, a second advertisement ap- peared, in the Name of the said " Thinks- I-to-mif- self" begging that the Public would be graciously pleased to send speedily for HIS NEW WORK, and to <( give their orders immediately for fear of disappointments." This seemed to come a little nearer home. My Printer and Publisher, and my friends in general, advised me now, to contradict both advertisements without any farther delay, and to undeceive the public. I therefore gave directions for a counter- statement to be inserted in the papers as soon as possible, which appeared accordingly. This, I flat- tered myself had done the business, and that I had sufficiently put the world upon its guard against all mistakes and deceptions 5 but, quite the contrary ! for in a very few days after, appeared the following curious contradiction of my own contradiction ! ! — - " I SAYS, SAYS I. THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, Author of I says, says I, begs leave to inform his friends, and the public in general, that HIS NEW WOKK, as above, is now ready for delivery in 2 Vols. 12mo. price 10s. 6d. Printed for J. Johnston, &c.&c. And the Author offers a Reward of FIFTY POUNDS 42 TH1NKS-I-T0-MYSELF. to any person who can prove I says, says I, not to be from the pen of THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, as the unprecedented sale of which has induced some evil-disposed Persons to assert the contrary, with a view to injure the reputation which the Author has already acquired, and for which he feels grate- ful." What could I be expected to do now ? Here was not only a positive contradiction of my own positive denial of the work, but my very attempts to save my own reputation, were openly denounced as the insidious manoeuvres of certain evil-disposed per- sons to injure and abuse it ! ! Any body will suppose, that I did, for a moment at least, indulge a hope, that by going before my Lord Mayor, or some other Magistrate, I might get the Fifty Pounds reward ; for I certainly felt that I could as easily prove, that I was not the Author of " I says, says I," as I could prove that I was not King of England. But alas ! " Thinks-I-to-my- self" is after all, still a non-entity, and of course, " his Pen" a non-entity ; and my Pen is only my own Pen, and nobody else's, certainly. And then, as to the Reward ; who offers to pay it ? why no- body, but the actual Author of " I says, says I," and who that is. or where he lives, or where he is THINKS-l-TO-MYSEtF. 43 to be found, I am sure I know no more than the Man in the Moon ! What reception the Russell and Diddle families will meet with from the world, I know not, but they have certainly combined to play the world and myself a trick of some magnitude. And I must beg the Author of / says, says I, to be so good as to consider for me, what steps I must take, if it should ever come into my head to write another Novel, to convince the Public that I really am the Author of my own works ; for henceforth, through his extraordinary care of my reputation, I must ex- pect to be believed about as well as the idle Shep- herd's Boy, who cried " Wolf," " Wolf," upon a pretence, till he could not obtain credit when it was matter of fact. I shall conclude with offering ONE HUNDRED POUNDS Reward to any Person who can prove, that the Author of " Thinks-I-to-myself" is the Author of " I says, says I f which, if I can trust my own pen, ink and paper, and all the thoughts that I have or have not expressed by them, is IMPOSSIBLE, May 9th, 1812, 44 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. TWO other works are either published, or about to be published, one of which professes to be " by One who Thinks-f or- Himself," and the other to be, H an Answer to Thinks- I-to-my self," entitled, " I'll consider of it." I am much flattered by the Compli- ments paid to my book, and am inclined to hope I shall rather have done good than harm, if I shall have induced more persons than usual, to " think- for-ihemselves," provided in doing so, they will but be careful in all instances to "consider of it" sagely and maturely. I am also just informed, that at one of our pub- lic Theatres a Song is introduced on the Stage, bearing allusion to my book. I hope it is chaste, moral, and correct ; for since many people through want of thought, are, as every body knows, in the habit of singing-to-themselves, as I wish not to be responsible for the excitement of any evil thoughts, so certainly not even for any singings in the head f which may lead to harm. THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, &c - I was born of very honest, worthy, and respect- able parents : — at least I think so. They were cer- tainly fully as much so as their neighbours : their circumstances were affluent ; their rank in life con- spicuous; their punctuality as to the discharge of all just debts, and regular payment of their trades- people, unexceptionable. They generally appeared to be regarded by all around them in a very respect- able light, being in the habit of receiving and re- turning, according to the customs of the world, all the usual compliments and civilities of visits, enter- tainments, &c. &c. Divers personages of all ranks and denominations used occasionally to resort to the house : some in carriages, some on horseback, some on foot ; some, in a formal, stiff, ceremonious manner; some, upon a footing of intimacy and equality ; some, upon special invitation ; some, quite unexpected. 46 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. Not having very good health in my early days, I lived much at home, and generally kept my good mother company ; so that I was present at most of the meetings and greetings of which I have spoken ; privy to all the preliminary arrangements of chosen and select parties ; and a witness commonly to the reception given to the several invitations that came Trorn all quarters of the neighbourhood : — as Lord and Lady this ; — Sir Timothy and Lady that ; — Mr. and Mrs. T'other thing, &c. &c. &c. — all in their turns, and out of their turns, welcome or nmvelcome, friends or foes, were, in the course of the year, ad- mitted or invited to the Hall. For we lived, you must know, in a Hall! that is, our house was called so : — not when I was born, nor till long afterwards; nor ever very seriously; rather indeed as a nick-name than any thing else. The case was this ; — my sister happened to have a correspondent at a school near London, who finding it essentially necessary to the support of her dignity among her school-fellows, always directed her letters so : — for the parents of one, she found, lived at something House; and of another at what's-it's name Place; and of another at thingumme Lodge; of another at the Grange ; of another at the Cas- tle ; of another at the Park : some lived on TpiNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 47 Mount Pleasants ; some on Rose Hills; some on Primrose Banks; some at Belle-vues ; some in Paragons ; some in Circus's : some in Cres- cents ; in short, all boasted of a title and distinc- tion, which our poor old mansion seemed to want : whether it were the dwelling of a duke, or a cheese- monger, it was all one : — so that in her own defence, she thought it fit to aggrandize her correspondent in the eyes of her school-fellows, by conferring a title of some sort or other on our old mansion ; and as Hall appeared to be as much unoccupied as any, she determined to direct to us, not at simple " Grumblethorpe," as formerly, but at Grumble- thorpe Hall, which certainly sounded much grander. And as for the House's sake, I must aver, that it deserved a title far more than half the Lodges, and Places, and Parks, and Mounts, and Hills, and Banks in the kingdom : for it was a regular, good old-fashioned mansion ; situated in a very reverend and venerable park; with a stately avenue of lofty elms, reaching near a quarter of a mile ; a hand- some terrace in front, and a noble prospect from the drawing-room window ; so that I have often thought it no less than a degradation of our venerable resi- dence to be tricked out in this manner ; — but our 48 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. friend could not, it seems, well help it : to live at only " Grumblethorpe," sounded so base in the re- fined ears of her associates, that she was in no small danger of being contemned and despised for having such a correspondent ; especially by Miss Blaze, the daughter of a retired tallow-chandler, whose father lived at Candlewick Castle ; and who was continually throwing out hints, that not to live, at a Castle, or a Park, or a Place, or a House, or a Lodge, manifestly and unequivocally bespoke so lowly an origin, and so Plebeian a parentage, that, for her part, she w r ondered, how any person, so meanly connected, could possibly have found her way to so genteel, and select a seminary : — in short, our friend found, that the only way to allay the degrading suspicions which had been excited, was, to new name our old mansion, and Grumblethorpe Hall be- came its established designation. Well, — to this Mansion, this Hall, as I said before, divers persons and personages resorted. The neighbourhood was tolerably large, and the neigh- bours themselves, what is commonly called socia- ble ; — so that what with stated, and settled, and pop visits, we were seldom alone. I know not under what particular planet I was born ; I never asked any cunning man to cast my THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, 49 nativity, and not being born under Mercury, I was never cunning enough to find it out of myself;— but if there be any one of them, that has any parti- cular influences in the way of consideration, reflec- tion, or soliloquy, no doubt I was born under that ; for being more given to taciturnity than loquacity in my boyhood and early youth, and being sickly besides, the part I generally bore, in most of the companies I speak of, was, to sit quite quiet, and make observations and remarks to myself, upon the conversation and conduct of others ; and by de- grees I got into a habit, not only of thinking, but of talking to myself : and if any thing was done or uttered at any time, that suggested certain im-utter- able remarks, I fell into that particular state of so- liloquy, and mental reflection, which I cannot pos- sibly define or describe otherwise, than by the vul- gar and trite, but significant phrase, " thinks-i- TO-MYSELF ." It is past all conception, how continually I was driven to have recourse to these mental remarks ; — scarcely a word was uttered that did not suggest something odd and whimsical to my watchful mind ; — often did it make me quite tremble for fear I should, by any accident or inadyertency, utter aloud, what was passing only in my thoughts ; I suppose, E 50 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. had it happened, it would at any time, and on a sudden, have made such a groupe, as nothing but the pencil of an Hogarth could have adequately described; — for in our neighbourhood, as in most others (though a very sociable one), the truth is, — there were such likings and dislikings, such jealou- sies and suspicions, such envyings and emulations, such a contrariety of feelings and sentiments, as would have set every thing in an uproar in a mo- ment, had not the utmost and most unwearied at- tention been paid, by all parties, to the preventing any discovery of the truth. My poor mother had not a spark of ill-nature in her disposition, no pride, no uncharitableness ; — but was certainly as well-bred, and as ready to make allowances for others as most people ; — but she could distinguish, as well as any, between agreeables and disagreeables, and be as much affected by them ; and thought, I believe, that take it altogether, there was rather a predominance of the latter, in the af- fairs and occupations, and common pursuits of the world : she did not open her mind to me so fully upon the subject, as to enable me to state what was the exact nature of her feelings, but I could collect a good deal from her conduct and manner occasion- ally. THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 51 The first tendency to indulge myself in the lucu- brations and reflections I describe, arose from the strange circumstances that seemed to me, to attend her intercourse with her neighbours ; — that is, the giving and receiving of visits ! One day, when I was sitting quite snug with her, and she was occupied in writing to my sister, who was absent from home, I spied at the end of the avenue, a groupe of pedestrians slowly making up to Grumblethorpe Hall, apparently dressed in thei best bibs and tuckers for a morning visit : Thinks- I-to-myself here's some agreeable company coming to my dear mama ! how kind it is of her neighbours to call in upon her thus, and not leave her to mope away her time by herself, as though she were buried alive ! [Sfot being willing however to run any risk of dis- appointing her, I waited patiently to see whether they were really coming to the Hall, for part of the avenue was the highway to the village : I kept watching them therefore with no small anxiety, for fear they should turn away abruptly, and deceive my expectations ; but when I saw them happily advanced beyond the turning to the village, and was therefore certain that they were really coming to see my dear mother, I hastily turned round to her, e2 52 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. exclaiming, " Here's ever so many people coming, mama;" thinking to delight her very heart; — u People coming/' says she ; " I hope not J w " Yes, indeed, there are," says I ; — u one, two, three, four ladies, a little boy, and two pug dogs, I do declare !" " Bless my soul!": — says my mother, — " how pro- voking ! it is certainly Mrs. Fidget and her daugh- ters, and that troublesome child, and now I can't finish my letter to your sister before the post goes i — I wish to goodness they would learn to stay at home, and let one have one's time to one's self!" Thinks- I-to-my self > my poor mother seems not much to like their coming ; I am afraid the Mrs. and Miss Fidgets will meet with rather an unkind- ly reception ! however, I plainly saw that there was no stopping them : — they got nearer and nearer; — the walking was not over clean, and my mother was the neatest woman in the world. — Thinks- I-to-my- self, the Pug dogs will dirty the room. At last they arrived ; — the servant ushered them in ; — sure enough it was Mrs. and Miss Fidgets, and the troublesome child, and all ! Mrs. Fidget ran up to my mother as though she would have kissed her, sq glad did she seem to see her. My mother, (bless her honest soul!) rose from her seat, and greeted them most civilly. " This is very kind indeed, Mrs. THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 53 Fidget," says she, u and I esteem it a great favour ! — I had no idea you could have walked so far ; I am delighted to see you !" — [Thinks-I-to-myself, — she wishes you all at Old Nick!!!— / Mrs. Fidget assured her she might take it as a particular favor, for she had not done such a thing, she believed, for the last six months ; and she should never have attempted it now to visit any body else ! i Thinks-I-to-myself, — then Mrs. Fidget you have lost your labour I — M And now," says she, " how I am to get home again, I am sure I cannot tell, for I really am thoroughly knocked up :" — Thinks-I-to- myself, my dear mother won't like to hear that!— but I was mistaken ; for, turning to Mrs. Fidget, she said, with the greatest marks of complacency, ""that's good hearing for us; then we shall have the pleasure of your company to dinner ; Mr. Dermont will be delighted, when he comes home, to find you all here :" — " O you are very good," says Mrs. Fid- get, " but I must return, whether I can walk or not, only I fear I must trouble you with a longer visit than may be agreeable ;" M the longer the better" says my dear mother. Thinks-I-to-myself, — that's a ! ! • i While my mother and Mrs. Fidget were engaged 54 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. in this friendly and complimentary conversation, the Miss Fidgets were lifting up the little boy to a cage in which my mother's favourite canary bird hung, and the boy was sedulously poking his fingers through the wires of the cage, to the great alarm and annoyance of the poor little animal. Thinks- 1- to-myself my mother will wish you behind the fire presently, young gentleman ! — but no such thing ! for just at that moment, she turned round, and seeing how he was occupied, asked if the cage should be taken down to amuse him : " he is a sweet boy, Mrs. Fidget/' says she ; " how old is he ?" " just turned of four," says Mrs. Fidget ; — " only four" says my mother, u he is a remarkably fine strong boy for that age !" " he is indeed a fine child," says Mrs. Fidget; " but don't my dear do that," says she, u you frighten tha poor bird." — As the Miss Fidgets were about to put him down, my mother ventured to assure them, that he would do no harm ; n pretty little fellow" says she, H pray let him amuse himself." All this while, the two pug dogs were reconnoitring the drawing room and furniture, jumping upon the sofa continually with their dirty feet, and repeatedly trying to discern (by the application of their pug noses to our feet and knees) who my mother and THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 55 myself could be, barking besides in concert at every movement and every strange noise they heard in the passage and Hall : — Mrs. Fidget sometimes pre- tending to chide them, and my mother as carefully pretending to excuse them with her whole heart :— often did I catch her casting, as I thought, a wish- ful eye on the letter to my sister, which lay unfinish- ed on the table ; nay once even when her attention had been particularly solicited to some extraordinary attitudes into which the little dogs had been severally bidden to put themselves/br her express amusement. But these canine exhibitions were nothing to the one with which we were afterwards threatened ; for my mother's high commendations of the little gen- tleman of four years old, induced his sisters to pro- pose to their mother that he should " let Mrs. Der- mont hear how w r ell he could spout;" that is, that he should entertain us with a specimen of his pre- mature memory and oratorical talents, by speaking a speech. \ Strong solicitations were accordingly made to little Master, to begin the required display of his rhetorical abilities, but whether it were on account of his shyness, or indolence, or sulkiness, or caprice, or, in short, merely that little Master was nol^in a spouting cue, he betrayed such an obstinate repug- 56 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. nance to the task imposed upon him, that it re- quired all the entreaties of the rest of the party to induce him to make the smallest advances towards the exhibition proposed. Each of his sisters went down on her knees to coax him, while Mrs. Fidget huffed and coaxed, and coaxed and huffed by turns, till she was almost tired of it. Now promising such a load of sweetmeats as soon as she got home if he would but begin ; and in the same breath threaten- ing the severest application of the rod if he did not instantly comply. At one time kissing him and hugging him with a " Now, do my dearest love, be a man, and speak your speech f 9 at another, almost shaking his head off his shoulders, with a " stupid boy ! how can you be so naughty before company ." (At last, however, upon my mother's tapping the pretty child under the chin, and taking him kindly by the hand, and expressing (Heaven bless her !) the most ardent wish and desire to be so indulged, he did condescend to advance into the middle of the room, and was upon the point of beginning, when Mrs. Fidget most considerately interposed, to procure him to put his right foot a little forwarder, with the toe more out, and to direct him about the proper motion, that is, the up-lifting and down-dropping of his right arm during the performance. One of hk fHINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 57 sisters, in the mean time, seating herself near to him, for fear of any accidental slip or failure in the young gentleman's miraculous memory. (His first attempt was upon Pope's Universal Prayer, but unfortunately, of the fourth line, he managed constantly to make but one word, and that so odd a one, that the sound but ill atoned for the manifest ignorance of the sense. " Father of all, in every age, In every clime ador'd y By saint, by savage, and by sage,. Jovajovalord •" /Jovajovalord! This was the word, and the only word that could be got out of his mouth, and Thinks- I-to-myself, it would be well if no greater blunders had ever been committed with regard to that in- sidious line ; however, in consequence of this invin- cible misnomer, the Universal Prayer was laid by, and other pieces successively proposed, till it was at length unanimously determined, that what he shone most in, was King Lear's Address to the Tem- pest, and this was accordingly fixed upon as his chef-d'oeuvre in the art of oratory. [Some preliminaries, however, in this instance ap- peared to be necessary. It was not reasonable to 58 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. suppose young Master could address a storm with- out some sort of symptoms at least of a real storm. It was agreed upon, therefore, that he should not commence his speech till he heard a rumbling noise proceed from the company present, and we were all desired to bear our part in this fictitious thunder ; how we all thundered, I cannot pretend to say, but so it was, that in due time, by the aid of such noises as we could severally and jointly contribute, the storm began most nobly, when the young orator stepping forward, his eyes and right hand raised, and his right foot protruded secundem artem, he thus began : " Blow winds and cwack your cheeks V — " Crack your cheeks," my love, says his sister ; " What can you mean by ci^ack your cheeks ? what's that, pray ?" " Aye, what is that/' says Mrs. Fidget ; — " but I believe, ma'am," adds she, turning to my mother, " I must make his excuses for him; you must know, he cannot be brought yet to pronounce an R, do all we can, so that he always leaves it quite out, or he pronounces it exactly like a W." Thinks- I-to-my 'self "many do the like. " We choose speeches for him, therefore," con- ^THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 59 tinues Mrs. Fidget 5 " in which there are many R's on purpose to conquer the difficulty, if we can ; be- gin again, my dear," says she, ff and pray remem- ber not to leave out your RR's ; w so he began afresh. " Blow winds, and ctuack your cheeks ! wage u Wage, my dear," says Mrs. Fidget, " do pray try to say rage." " Wage You Cataracts and hurwy canoes, spout Till you have cUuench'd our steeples, dwown'd the cocks !" " Bless me," exclaims Mrs. Fidget, " you might as well not speak at all as speak so ; I defy any body to understand what you mean by dwown'd the cocks !" The little gentleman, however, pro- ceeded spite of the RR's. " You sulphurous and thought executing fires, Vaunt — couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, Singe my ivhite head — and thou, all-shaking thunder, Stwike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world ; Cwack nature's mould, all germins spill at once That make ungrateful man. Wumble thy belly-full, spitfire, spout wain!" '! v O dear, dear, dear," says Mrs. Fidget, " that will never do ; wumble thy belly-full, spit fire, and 60 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. spout wain 1 who ever heard of such things ? Better, my love, have done with that, and try the Bard*," but the Bard beginning " Train seize thee, umthiess king," put us too much in mind of " tumble your belly full," to be proceeded with, and therefore little mas- ter was at last bidden to descend from such flights, and try his Fable; but even his Fable, which chanced to be the first of Gay, happening, most un- fortunately, to begin with an R, .his setting off here was as bad as ever, viz. " TFemote from cities lived a swain — " however he got through about ten lines, making, as I observed, a dead pause at the end of every one, and not disposing very discreetly, either of his ac- cents or his stops ; his delivery being as nearly as possible, just as follows : his accents falling on the words printed in italics ; and his pauses as noted by the perpendicular and horizontal bars. " His head was | silvered \ o'er with age — And long ex- | perie?ice \ made him sage — His hours in | cheerful | labor flew — Nor Envy nor j Ambition knew — "' At the beginning of every couplet I also found: his right arm regularly went up, and precisely at THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 61 the end and close of every rhyme came plump down again. Most happily at the eleventh line the young gentleman's miraculous memory was non-plus'd, and neither mama, nor any of his sisters, nor either of the Pug-dogs could at all help him out. — Thinks- I-to-myself — " I could if I would" — but I did not, Would you? — Ts". B. There were seventy more lines to come, and an R in almost every one of them, and time, as usual, flying briskly all the while. — {~This stop and impediment, however, was fatal to the young orator's progress, and therefore, at last, Mrs. Fidget being rested, they all prepared to go. Thinks-I-to-myself, now my poor mother will be happy again ! but she, good soul, seemed to have got quite fond of them in consequence of the extraordinary length of their stay : — she could not now so easily part with them : — she was sure Mrs. Fidget could not be thoroughly rested : — ■ the clock had but just struck two: — if they would but stay a little longer, my father would be come home from his ride,, and he would be greatly mor- tified to miss seeing them ; — but nothing would do; — go they must: Thinks- I-to-myself, now a fig for your friendship, Mrs. Fidget : — what, not stay when my mother so earnestly presses it ! not 62 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. stay, when she declares yoiir going will mortify my worthy father ! No — nothing would stop them ; ; — away they went; not however indeed without sundry promises on their part soon to call again, and divers most earnest entreaties on my mother's, on no account to forget it. They were scarce got out of the front-door be- fore my father entered : — " Are they really all gone at last?" says he, "I thought^they would have stayed till dooms-day : — Who irr'the world, were they all?" — "O dear," says n% mother, "why Mrs. Fidget and all her tribe; 'girls and boy, and two pug dogs :" " thank my sta%I escape d them," says my father; — Thinks-I-to-myself, great symp- toms of mortification my dear father shews at hav- ing had the misfortune to miss seeing them ! — " I declare," says my mother, "it is abominable to break in upon one in this manner ;— it was impos- sible to entertain such a groupe; so while Mrs. Fidget and I were in conversation, her young peo- ple and the dogs had nothing to do but to tease the bird, and dirty the furniture ; — that little monkey of a boy is always in mischief; — I could freely have boxed his ears ; — I thought he would have kill'd my poor bird;— I was in the midst of a letter to Caroline, and now it is too late for the post ;— hovv THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 63 Mrs. Fidget can spend all her time in visiting and walking about in the manner she does, I cannot conceive ; — I am to take it as a great and singular favor, she tells me, as she always does every time she comes, thinking I suppose that I don't know she is never at home; — I think she'll lose that boy; — I never saw such a puny sickly child in my life; Thinks-I-to-myself, — O poor Mrs. Fidget; fine stout boy of its age ! My father, with a great deal of good breeding in general, w r as a plain, blunt man, in the mode of expressing his sentiments ; so that my mother had scarcely finished what she had to say, but my father burst out — " tiresome woman," says he, " she ought to be confined ; — she is always wan- dering about with a tribe of children and dos;s at her heels: — there's poor Mrs. Creepmouse is quite ill from her visits ; you know what a nervous crea- ture she is." ! My father would have gone on ever so long probably in this strain had not the servant entered with a note ; which my mother immediately opened, and read aloud : the contents being to the follow- ing effect : — " Mr. and Mrs. Meekin present their compli- ments to Mr. and Mrs. Dermont, and shall be er- 64 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. tremely happy to have the honor of their company to dinner on Saturday next at five o'clock." flhinks-I-to-myself, how civil, polite, and obliging! ■ The servant was ordered to withdraw, and tell the messenger to wait : As soon as he was gone, " good God," says my father, " those peo- ple will never let us alone /—surely, we dined there last;" — my mother thought not; — my father thought they were for ever dining there ; — my mo- ther convinced him by a reference to her pocket- book, that Mr. and Mrs. Meekin were quite right as to the balance of debtor and creditor; — " well, only take care," says my father, " that we do not get into the habit of dining there above once or twice a year at the utmost ; — it is really too great a sacrifice." — " What do you mean to go then?" says my mother. " Go," says my father, " why I suppose we must ;" — " I wish they were further," says my dear mother ; — " I wish they were at Jeri- cho," says my dear father; — " I had rather do any thing than go on Saturday," says my mother: — " I had rather be. hang'd than ever go," says my father, " it is such an intolerable bore ;" — " well," says my mother, " but the servant's waiting ;" — so she took the pen, and away she wrote two or three lines in a moment ; — " there," says she to my THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 65 father, "will that do?" Thinks- Lto-myseff, short and sharp probably ! my father, happily for me, read it aloud : — {" Mr. and Mrs. Dermont return their compli- ments to Mr. and Mrs. Meekin, will w r ait upon them with the greatest pleasure on Saturday to dinner." t Thinks- I-to-my self, well done my sweet tempered mama ! how mild and how forgiving! but my fa- ther surprised me most; instead of throwing it into the fire as I expected, he declared it would not only do, but do vastly well; — he therefore sealed it himself, rang the bell, gave it to the servant, and desired that he would give their best compli- ments ; — " and mind," says he, " you ask the ser- vant how they all do; be sure you make him un- derstand." Thinks-I-to- myself, what heavenly- Hand- edness! \yhat christian charity! ; I expected the servant every moment to return with an account of our friends' health ; — but no such thing : my father and mother seemed to have quite forgot they had made the enquhy. I ven- tured to remind them of the servant's neglect. " Ah !" says my father, u my boy, you dortt know the world" Thinks-I-to-myself — what's that to the purpose ; — but I never went further than neces- F $6 THI.NKS-I-TO-MYS.ELF. sary. It seemed unaccountable to me what could be the nature of my father's and mother's senti- ments and feelings, to send with such earnestness to ask how their friends did, and never want an answer: — however, the servant did return soon after to bring some sandwiches, and my mother immediately asked him whether he had been care- ful to enquire how they all were, which the servant answered in the affirmative: — Well, Thmks-I-to- myself and how are they all then ? — no, not a word further, — dead or alive, it seemed to be all one to my father, my mother, and the servant, — not an item about the health of master or mistress, son or daughter, though I knew there was a house full of them: — Thinks- I-to-my self , as sure as can be that fellow knows something of the world; — but my contemplations were again broken in upon by the entrance of the servant w r ith another note, which my mother broke open as she had done the other, and read as before. ■4 Sir Henry and Lady Lydiard beg the favor of Mr. and Mrs. Dermont's company to dinner at five o'clock on Saturday next." Thinks* Lto-my self, what's to be done now? — "let the man wait," says my mother; — "was ever any thing so un- TIIINKS-I-TO-MYSELT. 67 lucky, Mr. Dermont ; had it come but a moment sooner we should have been totally disengaged ;" — " the deuce take the Meekins," saysmy father; — ■ " what can we do ?" says my mother ; — '* go by all means/' says my father, it then first came to my knowledge that instead of being any of the so and so's that had a fair claim to be admitted, my poor father and mother would as willingly have seen the witch of Endor, and that the whole visit had been the effect of accident and blunder. But what made it worse was, that as they got into the carriage, some still more disagreeable peo- ple came to the door, at that very instant, whom it became therefore an equal matter of impossibility to refuse, and who were accordingly forced upon us for a full hour :—Thinks-I-to-myself y nothing can exceed the patience of my dear father and mo- ther, when I saw them bow and curtsey to these additional guests, expressing joy rather than sor- row at their untimely visit, and giving them every other testimony of a hearty welcome. These were new comers into the neighbourhood, and it was I the return of their first visit. — My father and mo- ther knew as much of them, and they of my father and mother, as the Emperor of China knows of THlNKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 73 the Cherokee Indians. They were not in that ele- vated rank of life that excites confidence even among strangers, nor did they appear to have much more knowledge of the world in general than myself; I did not think it worth my while to stay very long in the room after their arrival, having no great prospect either of edification or amusement from the conversation of the w T hole groupe taken together. Mrs. Fidget and her party, and the fine ladies whom I was near sneezing into fits, had plenty to say for themselves, but the gentleman and lady that had succeeded to them, seemed to have not much larger a vocabulary at their com- mand than a poll-parrot. The utmost efforts of my poor father and mother to get them to make a few advances of themselves towards conversation seemed entirely to fail ; — so that all that was ut- tered was by starts and jumps, with long intervals of dead silence ; — as the sun was shining full into the room, and had been so all the morning, my mother ventured to remark that u it was a beautiful day/' to which both assented ; — " but rather too warm," says my father ; — " rather too warm cer- tainly," said they both at once ; — and a dead si- lence followed. ^ Are you fond of the country V says my father; w very fond," said they both, and 74 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. another dead silence ensued. — " Are you a sports- man ?" said my father ; " No/' says he, and a dead silence ; — " Are you any thing of a farmer?" " No i - a dead silence. — H Are you fond of fishing:" " No ;" and another dead silence :— ~ while exactly in the same manner was my mother engaged in pumping the lady: — "Are you a great walker?" "Yes; ,r and a dead silence. — " Do you draw at all ?" " No ; w and a dead silence. — " How many young folks have you ?" " Five ;" and a dead silence. Thinks- I-to-my$elf, surely they fancy they are being tried for their lives ! I could bear it no longer, but found means to depart, and yet I learnt afterwards that they had the conscience to pay quite as long a visit as if they had been the most agreeable people in the world * I It was from such scenes as these, continually re- peated, that I acquired the habit I speak of, — of soliloquy and suppressed remarks ; often have I wished to get the better of it since I have been grown up, but it still haunts me, — for every ten words that I utter out aloud, twenty or forty per- haps are mumbled in silence to myself; — the worst of it is, that though nobody can have been more disposed than myself, from my very childhood, to love my fellow-creatures ; — my mental remarks^ spite of my teeth, will be continually suggesting TIIINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 7 5 something bad or ridiculous concerning them :—I N have detected such deliberate falsehoods, such atro- cious inconsistencies, such barefaced hypocrisy, such base dissimulation, that often my very hair \ has stood an end when I felt a " Thinks- I-to-my- self" coming upon me. As I have ever been a dutiful and most affection- ate son, the reader may easily suppose my concern was not small to gather this mortifying experience of the ways of the world, most immediately and expressly, indeed for some time, solely from the conduct of my beloved parents, for it was from them that I first learnt, that it was possible, to be ex- \ tremely happy to have the pleasure of seeing the most tiresome people in the world ! — that it was pos- sible to be much mortified at being prevented the happiness of dining with a w T hole heap of insufferable bores ; — that it could be necessary to hope to be favoured or honoured with the company of persons, whom in our hearts w r e thoroughly wished at Jeri- cho. — These things induced me to say at the be- ginning of my book, that I believe I was born of honest parents : — honest I really think they were, only that their honesty w r as mixed up with a large quantity of dishonesty : — that is, they were as honest as it is possible for people to be, who can be /O THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. happy to be made miserable ; pleased with disagree- ables ; mortified by what is delightful; — who can hope for what they most dread; ask as a favour, what they would give the world not to receive ; and accept with great pleasure what they would give the world to decline. I w r as uneasy, as I have said, as long as these discoveries all tended to the re- proach of my beloved parents. Surely, Thinks-I- to-myself I am born of a race of hypocrites and de- ceivers. There cannot be a molecule of honesty left in the whole current of the blood of the Der- monts ! — many uneasy days and nights I passed in endeavouring to think better of people I loved so much ; — but it w r as long before I had any fair op- portunity of being at all undeceived, and perhaps I never should, had it not been for a little bit of stra- tagem, which upon any less occasion, I should have disdained. One day w T hen I was sitting with my mother, as usual, but a considerable time after the scene I have been describing, the identical party I have before spoken of, came again ; — videlicit, Mrs. and Miss Fidgets, the troublesome child, and the two pugs. — Again, was Mrs. Fidget delighted to see my mother, and my mother her ; — again, did the one intend it as a great and singular favour, and again did the THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 77 other receive it as such ; — again was the troublesome child, instead of getting his ears boxed, as I thought he deserved, pronounced to be a sweet child, and a very jine boy of his age, though in reality as puny and sickly as my mother really thought him when he was with us last ; — again, were the dirty pugs admired and caressed : — again, were they pressed to stay longer, thanked for their kindness, and urged to come again : — Thinks-I-to-myself, w r hat can all this mean ? Is my mother that downright hypo- crite, that artful deceiver, deliberately to impose upon all her friends in this manner ; and are they all such silly dupes as to be so easily taken in ? Thinks-I-to-myself, I know what I'll do ; — so I jumped up from my seat, hastily quitted the room, and ran into a field near the house, which happened to be separated from the avenue by a high and thick hawthorn hedge, which continued a consi- derable way, and wiiere I knew I should be able to hear all the friendly remarks of the company as thev quitted Grumblethorpe Hall, I had not been long there before out came the whole groupe, and as good luck would have it, they came quite near enough to me to admit of my re- ceiving into my poor innocent ears, every soft and gentle expression that fell from their amiable tongues, 78 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF- " Thank my stars," says the worthy Mrs. Fidget, " that visit's over! we need not go there again for some time ; it is all so formal, and so prim, one's half afraid to open one's mouth :" " Poor little . Tommy, how do you like that old lady !" " Not at 1 all," says the pretty child ; rt nor I neither, my dear," says Mrs. Fidget ; "nor I neither," says Miss Fidget : " nor I," says Miss Matilda ; u nor I," says little Miss Nancy ; — " what a strange crea- ture," adds Mrs. Fidget, " is that hopeful son of her's ! he never speaks a word ; — I believe he's an idiot ! and yet to see the foolish fondness and cre- dulity of parents, I verily believe they fancy him wise enough to be Prime Minister ; — but he'll die, I think : — he's as thin as a threadpaper, and looks for all the world in that black jacket of his, like a half-starved chimney sweeper. — Did you see how he muttered something to himself as he went out of the room ? It will be a great mercy if he is taken out of the world, for it is a shame for such clodpoles to be born to such an inheritance : — here, Matilda, \ we must turn down here ; I may as well go and see old Mrs. Creepmouse now I am so near, and then we shall have killed tw r o birds with one stone." Thinks-I-to-myself, so you will, Mrs. Fidget, or perhaps three ; for she seemed to have taken pretty Til INKS- l-TO-MYS ELF. 79 good aim at myself as well as at my mother, and N old Mrs. Creepmouse, and I confess I felt so utterly astonished and confounded, that I did not quite know whether I stood on my head or my heels ; — however, the first thing that struck me was, that my dear parents, w r ere quite exonerated : v Thinks-I-to-myself, it all comes of their knowing 'the world! no, there's nothing in it beyond self- defence. Mrs. Fidget's singular favour and pro- digious friendship, is evidently no better than a de- liberate attempt to kill my poor mother with the same stone she kills Mrs. Creepmouse, and to re- joice all the way home at having done it effectually. I returned to the house, heartily glad to have made so successful an experiment, though instead of curing me of my malady, I plainly saw it woulcl in- crease it abominably. I went back to my mother, and as might naturally be expected, found her as much delighted to be left alone again, as the Fid- gets w x ere to get away. I was almost tempted to say, do you know that you and Mrs. Creepmouse have both been by this time killed by one stone ? but I must have, by doing so, betrayed my plan of listening, which I had great reason to think would have excited her displeasure ; for she had always discouraged it as a matter of great impertinence, 80 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. great disingenuousness, and great meanness, both in myself and my sister, adding the old proverb, that " listeners never hear any good of themselves/' which I had pretty well found to be true, in the compliment paid by the lovely Mrs. Fidget, to my poor thread-paper form, chimney-sweeping jacket, and clod-pole. It would be impossible to recount but the hun- dredth thousandth part of the strange scenes to w T hich I was witness, and the strange remarks they suggested, before I was grown up to be a man : — but most of them till then were of the nature I have alluded to. My enmity to Mrs. Fidget soon wore off as I made greater progress in the knowledge of the world. I soon found that Mrs. Creepmouse could just as willingly have killed Mrs. Fidget, as Mrs. Fidget could have killed Mrs. Creepmouse, and that in the true way of visiting, the more havoc and destruction one stone could make, the better to all parties. I soon found that people were trouble- some to each other by settled compact, treaty and agreement, not signed, sealed, and delivered indeed in any form, but concluded to be so, and therefore never to be violated. I soon found that none were duped, none really taken in, none really deceived : — that u I am extremely happy to see you/' meant rilINKS-I-TO-MYSF/LF. 81 no more in reality than, " that I am come because I could not help it," and that u pray stay longer," implied little else than u I wish you were gone," or some such elegant valediction :— still I could not break myself of my soliloquies ; they were for ever recurring ; — in the mean time, I tried to be as civil and decent as I could in my reflections ; — Thinks- L- to-myself, that's a lie ! — never once passed the very threshold of my thoughts ; — but when any thing very contrary to the truth seemed to strike me, es- pecially where ladies were concerned, the utmost asperity of thought indulged, was no greater than, Thinks- I-to-mgself\ that's a bounce; — or &jib; — or hum; — and so on. I have never yet told the reader, though Mrs. Fidget in the avenue had nearly let the cat out of the bag, that I w T as born to a considerable inherit- ance and a title ; my father, through his mother, who was the daughter of a Scotch Earl; being heir after the death of a distant female relation, to a Scotch Barony. You may be pretty sure that all this was not unknown to many of the visitors at Grumblethorpe Hall ; and that the poor Clodpole was an object of interest to others besides my wor- thy parents : — in the very next parish lived a gen- tleman and lady, who had inherited an over-grown G 82 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. fortune from a most distinguished ancestor, namely, John Twist, Esq. the great tobacconist : — seventy or eighty thousand pounds were nothing: — they were thought to have got from him in all as much as three or four hundred thousand, with w 7 hich they had purchased a magnificent seat in the neighbour- hood, and unluckily, for me, their lands joined my father's : — I wish every acre of it had been in Nova Zembla. These good folks happened, as is generally the case, I think, not to be over-burthened with children : — had they been day labourers they would v have had a hundred : — but all their progeny w r as one only daughter ; — heiress of course in the eye of the world, to all the leavings of the rich tobacco- nist. My father, God bless him, was not covetous, but he knew that a title brought with it large and un- governable expences ; — he had no more pride than he had covetousness, and I believe would as willing- ly have seen the expected Barony branch suddenly off from the main stem of his inheritance, into ever so distant a collateral ramification, as come down cither perpendicularly or zigzag exactly upon his head ; — but come it would ; — and who could help it ? while the lands originally attached to it, were expected, some of them to stick to the earldom, THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. 83 which went into another line, and some to an elder barony, and some to this, and that, and t'other, till nothing but an empty coronet seemed left to my poor father ; — his own estate was excellent for a private gentleman, but he did not like this poor Barony that was coming down to make him more conspicuous, (jVIiss Grizilda Twist was just three years younger than myself; — all the pains that were possible had been taken to make her extremely disagreeable ; — she had been indulged from infancy in every whim and caprice that could enter her w r eak mind, and / over-loaded with accomplishments that filled her head with conceit; — she was abominably proud, as might be expected, and by no means of an amiable tem- per : — I would describe her person, but it may seem invidious ; — for, perhaps, many more amiable per- sons may jointly or severally have similar features, and as I mean that every body in the world shall read this book, I wish to give no personal offence to any. I leave you all therefore, gentle readers, / to guess whether her hair was black, brown, or bright red; — whether her eyes were hazel, blue, or emerald green; — whether her nose w r as Roman, Grecian, Aquiline, or turned up in front ivith large open nostrils, — whether her teeth were ivory white g 2 84 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. and even, or black and jagged ; — I will fairly say, I did not myself admire her person, but nothing more; — ladies are ladies. 0>ne day, as my father and myself were walking round the grounds, he began about the peerage that was likely to come to us : says he, " Bob, you know you are to be a Lord ;" " I have heard so, Sir," says I : u so much the worse, my boy," says he ; u certainly, Sir," says I, (for I never contra- dicted him) — but, Thinks-I-to-myself, all the while, — Why so? — " You know r , I suppose," says he, " that no estate comes with it?" " Not till you told me, Sir," says I ; — " A title without an estate is a sad incumbiance," says he. — I assented, though I cared no more about it, than the man in the moon : — " This property is great enough in its way," ad- ded my father, " but not sufficient for a Peer ;" — I forget what reply I made to this, for just at that moment, he turned his right leg over the upper bar of the stile, and there he sat. Thinks- I-to-my self, jr*$- ( ' We'll ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross :" — What in the world makes him sit so ? Says my father, slapping his left thigh, " this leg, Bob, is in Grumblethorpe domains :" — Thinks-I-to-myself he is going mad ! then slapping his right thigh, — " in what domain is this leg, Bob?" Thinks-I-to myself, THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 85 he foams at the mouth ! — however he went on ; — " This stile, Bob, you must know, exactly divides our property from Mr. Twist's." I was delighted to hear him talk like a rational creature again : he looked at me, however, as if still waiting for a re- ply, though I had said, " does it, Sir," or " yes," or some such thing in answer already : he repeated the remark. Thinks-I-to-myself, — what can my father mean ? — " Many estates, Bob," continues he, " pass down straight forward through a long long line of lineal descendants ;— some go off at right angles one knows not where, for want of children to succeed ; — some gently and smoothly glide into other families as by adoption, sale or marriage ;" he again made a solemn pause. Thinks-I-to-myself, what next ! — " What a pity," says he, " Bob, that poor Mr. Twist should have no son !" — I said not a word : — " a daughter/ 9 continues he, " must carry it all into some other family ;" — I said no- thing : — " I suppose," says he, " there's many a young man looking out for Miss Twist :" — Thinks- I-to-myself, let 'em look ! — Just at this moment we were interrupted. My father was called home to some persons who wanted him upon business, so recommending it to me to continue my walk on the 86 THINKS-I-TO-MYSE-LIV Twist side of the stile, he quitted me and returned to the house. The Twist side of the stile was the way to the vicarage. There were none of the neighbours I liked better than the family there. Mr. and Mrs. Mandeville were most amiable and worthy people, and not being over rich, had a large family ; — some of the boys had been occasionally my play-mates, as the daughters had at times visited my sister. I found myself got very near to their gate before I was aware even of my own designs. It happened that in my ignorance of the world, as it is called, I was in some points as much unacquainted with / myself as with other people. I had long perceived that the vicarage was the only house I really liked to visit. I had also perceived, but I could not quite account for it, that when Emily Mandeville, which was the name of the eldest daughter, either went out of the room, or came into the room, spoke to me, or I spoke to her, I had the queerest sensa- tion about the region of my heart, that could be conceived. It seemed to beat and bump ten times quicker than common. Thinks- I-to-my self it's St. Vitus's dance. These symptoms I knew to be greatly and rapidly THINKS-I-TO-MYSKLI'. 87 increasing, so that I had a great mind to ask the apothecary about it : we had always been great and particular friends : — Whether her heart bumped as much as mine, I had never yet asked her, — but she always appeared happy in my company ; — her tem- per was the sweetest in the world, and as to her person I certainly need be under no such scruple as I was about Miss Twist's, if I could but describe it ; for, let all the females in the world read my book, none of them could wish to be more elegantly beau- tiful than Emily Mandeville ; — every one would of course desire to resemble her in " voice and feature, form and gait :" — let every one therefore only fancy her as beautiful and amiable and lovely as themselves, and I need say no more. — Thinks-I-to~my$elf, that's enough. I found Mrs. Mandeville and her daughters all busily engaged : — some working, some reading, and some drawing. Mr. Mandeville, though not rich, nor over-well endowed, had in his early days kept much good company, as had Mrs. Mandeville also, so that, in a simple and plain manner, every thing had an air of elegance ;— there was no vulgarity ; — every thing was equally distant from a vain display of finery and a shabby meanness. Mr. Mandeville had travelled, and was well acquainted both with 8S THINKS-I-TG-MYSELF. books and men. He had a fixed and rooted respect and reverence for every thing connected with reli- gion,, without the smallest tincture of enthusiasm or bigotry. He was, perhaps, altogether the most polished man in the neighbourhood, though many looked down upon him from above : while from be- low every body looked up to him ; that is, — the poor all loved and respected him, for they knew the man : — the rich knew in general only his office ; some were too great in their own conceits to asso- ciate with a country vicar, and some were of too mean capacity to be even capable of associating with him : — as for my father and mother, I must say they thoroughly understood his worth, and in their intercourse with him, I can venture to assert, thought of nothing else. My father found him much above the common run of his country associates, and my mother found in Mrs. Mandeville, a friend she could trust ; — for she was free from vanity, and disdained all parade of forms and pretensions. ; During my visit at the vicarage the morning I am speaking of^ something led us to advert to our great neighbours, the Twists. Mrs. Mandeville ob>- served, that Miss Twist w r as extremely accomplished ; — that she had had masters of all descriptions, ancl of course must have learnt a great deal: I confess THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 89 it surprised me always to hear any body speak well of the absent, and therefore, (though as for poor Miss Twist, I abominated her) yet I heartily joined in the encomiums. I agreed with Mrs. Mandeville in all she said, for how could I do otherwise ? Miss Twist had had many masters, and therefore might naturally be expected to know much; — far more than I thought it necessary for her to know : — she had learnt I know not what; — music, dancing, painting, these were common, vulgar accomplish- ments; — she had attended a world of fashionable lectures, and was therefore supposed to understand Chemistry, Geology, Philology, and a hundred other ologies, for what I know, enough, as I thought, to distract her brain : — however, I observed that when I agreed so much with Mrs- Mandeville, my dear friend Emily suddenly rose and quitted the room : — Thinks- I-to-my self, she's gone to fetch her thimble, or her scissars, or something or other, but I immediately felt that bumping at my heart, of which I have spoken come on so much, that I wished Miss / Twist and all her accomplishments at the bottom of the sea. — As it was growing late, I found it neces- sary to depart, and therefore getting up and shaking them all by the hand, I wished them good morning, adding, as I shook the last hand of the interesting 90 THJNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. groupe, pray tell Emily I wish her good bye, — which brought back all the bumping to so great a degree, that as I walked away I could scarce move or breathe. Thinks-I-to-myself, it's certainly an apothecary's concern, — I must ask Mr. Bolus about it, as sure as can be, in a day or two, When I got home, I found that among the visi- tors that had been at the Hall that morning, were Mr. Mrs. and Miss Twist, and her governess : I thought my father and mother seemed somewhat concerned that I had been out of the way, but re- proof I received none. — They appeared to be in no manner displeased that I had been at the vicarage ; — but the visit of the Twists, I found, had ended in an invitation, particularly extending to myself. We were in three days from that time, to go to dine at Nicotium Castle : On the morning of the day we were to dine there, I found my mother prone to dwell upon the beauties of Nicotium Castle : — what a delightful place it was, adding also, as Mrs. Mandeville had done, what an accomplished girl Miss Twist was ; how very learned, and how very clever ! It is amazing what a relief I felt to the bumping of my heart, whenever the conversa- tion took this turn ; — so that I began to take a pleasure in talking of Miss Twist. 1 was so easy THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 91 and comfortable the moment her name was men- tioned, that any body would have been encouraged to go on with it: — had Emily Mandeville been mentioned, my malady would have returned so im- mediately, that no doubt the conversation would have stopped at once : — but this never happened. Nobody thought of mentioning her to me, and I could have died upon the spot sooner than have mentioned her name to any body else. \ The day came for our visit to Nicotium Castle. Thinks- I-to-my self I'll ask if I mayn't dine at the vicarage : so at breakfast I humm'd and haw'd, and ventured to say, u I had rather be excused going to Nicotium Castle." My father looked black ; — my mother looked I know not how : — Thinks- I-to- my self it don't seem agreeable. — " You cannot with propriety stay at home," says my father, " because you were so particularly invited :" Thinks- I-to-my self what if I say I had the misfortune to be previously engaged! — so says I, as bold as brass, — " but I was previously engaged to dine at the Vicarage;" — " previously engaged !" says my dear mother, " that cannot be : — it would be a great act of rudeness to put off the Twist's with an excuse like that." Thinks-I~to-myself I don't know enough 92 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. of the world to understand the exact nature of these put off 's. My father said, " I must go ;" — I made therefore no further objections. The hour came, and away we went. — Every thing at the castle was most splendid. — There was every sort of rarity : — every thing that it was not easy to get : I would have given the world to have sat by my dear mother, but as accident would have it,- 1 got exactly between Miss Twist and her governess. Thinks- I-to-myself, I hope she won't ask me about any of the ologies : — as it happened she did not ; — but she talked to me very often \ — offered me abun- dance of nice things, and as for Mr. and Mrs. Twist, nothing could possibly exceed their attention. Thinks- I-to-myself) a fig for Mrs. Fidget : — Clod- pole is somebody of consequence at last ! In the evening, as more company came, w r e found that it was to end in a ball. I would have given ever so much to have danced with my father or mother : — not that I was so ignorant as not to know that this was impossible, but I felt so inexpressibly shy as to dancing with any body else. Thinks- I-to-myself, I'll go and sit with the fiddlers : — but unhappily just as I was going, Mr. Twist came behind me :— " Young Gentleman/' says he, " you must open the THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 93 Ball with ray daughter f Thinks-I-to-myself if I must, I must ;— so away I went, up to the top of about twenty couple. I had learnt plenty of Latin and Greek, of my tutor, but as for dancing, I knew but little of it: — Thinks- I-to-myself, I wish I were a cow r , or a sheep : for if ever they dance, they are not particular about steps ; whereas I scarce seemed to know whether I was to begin with my heels or my toes : however, away we went, and with a little pulling and hauling, and pushing and shoving, I got at last to the bottom of the room : Miss Twist twisted in and out so adroitly, that w T e happily arrived at our journey's end, without any lives lost or limbs broken, though I thought all seemed to be in danger : " Pray," / says Miss Twist, " don't engage yourself to any body else;" — Thinks-I-to-myself, I wish I could: — in the mean time, all the young men in the room I observed came to ask her to dance, but she was. engaged for the whole evening to Mr. Robert Der- mont: — Thinks- I-to-my self, I'll let you off! — but nothing would do ; — I was fixed for the evening ; and at supper, had to preside with the amiable heiress of the castle, at the second table. — Thinks- I-to-myself, I wish I was at home, and a bed, and 94 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. asleep ! — however,- at last, the entertainment hap- pily came to an end, and away we all went. As we were upon our return, my mother observed how much I had been honoured in having had Miss Twdst for a partner, — intimating that all the other young men that were there, envied me. Thinks- I-to-my self, well they might ! but another time, I had rather they than me ; — however, luckily I escaped all my bumping at the heart; Emily Mandeville was not of the party. Mr. and Mrs. Twist's invitation did not extend to the Vicarage; — but what was particularly provoking, when I got to bed at night, I felt a great bumping because she was not there. Thinks- I-to-my self, I must cer- tainly take some physic. The very day after the ball Mrs. and Miss Twist called upon my mother again. Much of the conversation, of course, turned upon the company that had met together the night before. Mrs. Twist expressed great satisfaction that her daugh- ter had so proper a partner : — " I don't like her to dance, ma'am/' says she, " but with people of family !" Thinks- I-to-my self, — " You know, Bob, you are to be a lord !" — and now it's out ! — I be- gan now to have some suspicion how the land lay, as THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELF. 95 they say : — I began now to discern that the Twists knew something about the stile as well as my fa- ther. Thinks- I-to-myself, — as sure as can be, they are inclined to replenish my empty coronet, and interweave a few leaves of tobacco w 7 ith the Baro- nial balls ; — however, nothing of all this was suf- fered to pass my lips. I looked upon it all as a good scheme, and admirably calculated to cure my bumping of heart ; — for, Thinks-I-to-myself, it is im- possible I could pass my life with Emily Mande- ville, since my heart bumps so dreadfully, even at a distance. It was amazing the number of civilities and in- vitations that passed now between Nicotiurn Cas- tle and Grumblethorpe Hall. They were continu- ally coming to us, or we going to them. Mrs, Twist was always talking of people of family ; — my father and mother always lamenting to me the expectation of the unendowed Barony. All this while, I continued in the habit of visiting at the Vicarage, though my heart bumped so excessively, whenever I was there, that I thought I must en- tirely give it up. One day, as I was walking in the garden with Mrs. Mandeville and the females of the family, it came into mv head that Emilv would like to have 96 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. a beautiful moss rose, that I had just gathered : Thinks-I-to-myself I'll go and stick it in her bosom : — at that very moment, I had such an extraordinary seizure of the bumping at my heart, that I was ready to drop; — but. what appeared to me more strange was, that I could not go to her, do what I would, — for the first time in my life, I felt a sort of dread of her : while Mrs. Mandeville had been questioning me about the ball at Nicotium Castle, a little before, I thought she looked displeased with me, and when I expected it of her as a friend that she would have liked to hear of the notice that had been taken of me, I observed she walked quite away : — I had never quarrelled with her in all my life, nor she with me : — I would have done any thing to have served her, or pleased her ; and now that I felt afraid of her, I still seemed to want to serve her, and please her more than ever : Thinks- I-to-myself certainly I am bewitched; — soon after she came up to us of her own accord : Thinks-I-to- myself, now I'll give the rose: — so I went to her with it, and was going to offer it, but my tongue suddenly got so perfectly dry in my mouth, that I'll be hanged if I could speak a word. Thinks-I- to-myself I am certainly going to die. I was so frightened, I got awav as soon after as I could ; — / THINK S-I-TO-MYS ELF. 97 but the bumping continued all the way home, worse I think than ever. I was afraid to tell my mother of it because I knew she would send for Mr. Bolus, and that always ended in such severe and long- continued discipline, generally beginning with an emetic, which tore me to pieces, that I always kept my maladies to myself as long as I could. As my sister was just come home, I asked her about it, but she only laughed at me, though I could not tell why : I got into my father's library one morning, in order to try if I could find my case in any of the physical books there, of which he had a store; — I looked into a good many, just running over the symptoms of each, which caught my eye, as being in capital letters, thus, — symptoms, — and it is past all conception, what a variety of diseases I seemed to have ; — for to look for bumping only, was nothing ; — the more I read, the more symptoms I detected ; — I was not aware of a hundredth part of what I suffered, till the book suggested them ; — I plainly saw my case to be (at least I thought so then) a complication of all the classes, orders, genera, and species of disease, that had ever afflicted the race of man. As I went along and questioned my- self as to the several symptoms of the different disor- ders as laid down in the book, I found I had not H 98 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. only bumpings, but dreadful pains in my head and loi?is, with a weariness of limbs, stretching, yawning, shivering, and shaking, which are pretty plain signs, as any body must allow, of an approaching fever : I had a rigor or chillness, pains in my back, difficulty of breathing ; I had a violent pricking pain in one of the sides, deep down among my ribs, which was manifestly a pleurisy or peripneumony ; — I could not exactly discern which : — I had violent flushings in the face, disturbed sleep, and a singing in my ears, which seemed to me to indicate a phrenitis : — I had a painful tension on the right side also, just opposite the pricking pain on my left, under the false ribs, which I knew at once to be a disordered liver ; — in short, I kept looking and looking, till I was evidently con- vinced, that I had not a sound part about me, and I should, I am persuaded, have taken to my bed and died, to the great joy of Mrs. Fidget, if it had not been that I rather wished to die. Ever since Emily Mandeville had looked grave at me, I had felt as bold as a lion about dying, and I will venture to say, could have resolutely walked into the very arms of old Dry-bones with his hour-glass, had I but met him any where in my walks. I did, however, take a little medicine, by advice of the books, picked up here and there. I managed THINKS-I-TO-MYSEJ.F. 99 to buy some ipecacuanha, asafatida, Glauber's salt, and compound tincture of senna, which mixing up with a small parcel of jalap, and some succotrine aloes, (not very regularly I confess, for I knew nothing of the proper proportions,) I took a tea- spoonful night and morning, for three days, which so effectually moved my stomach, as to give me, as I thought, the fairest chance of a perfect recovery : / — how r ever, not so : I could not reach the bumping after all, which occurred so instantaneously upon the smallest recollection of Emily Mandeville, that had she been old and ugly, or had she ever been seen in the air on a broom, must have convinced me that she was the exact person that had bewitched me. I continued in this state for some days after my sister's return home ; during which time, Miss Twist came often to see her in her carriage, and Emily Mandeville once on foot : I could plainly perceive, that though the latter did not at all mind coming on foot, the former was very proud indeed of coming in her carriage : but what was odd, even this difference between the two, as soon as I per- ceived it, brought on the bumping at my heart ; — Thinks- I-to~my self, Emily shall ride in her carriage too. h2 100 THINKS-i-TO-MYSELF. I know not how long I might have remained in this miserable uncertain state, had it not been for the most unlooked-for accident, that ever befel one in my sad condition. One day that Miss Twist had dined with us, she and my sister, in the even- ing, were playing and singing at the piano-forte. They both sung extremely well, only Miss Twist was so abominably effected, I could not bear to look at her, while she sung, but stood at a distance generally, listening to the words. Music I de- lighted in ; — especially I found since the first at- tack of my bumping — there were some tunes so ex- quisitely soothing and delightful, I could scarce bear them ; — and some of the words of the songs seemed to me to touch my complaint : Miss Twist, I perceived, had a particular knack in fixing upon such songs : — at last there came one that complete- ly opened my poor dull eyes : the two first verses were sufficient, I had not made complete experi- ment of all, — but my eyes were opened, as I say : Thinks-I-to-myself, " that' s enough :" as I whis- pered to my sister to beg her to repeat it, I could not help marking every word the second time, and accompanying them with my usual soliloquies. li When Delia on the plain appears." THINKS-I TO-MYSELF. 101 Sung Miss Twist :— Thinks- I-to-my self, when Emily Mandeville walks in the garden : — " Awed by a thousand lender fears, " I would approach, but dare not move." Thinks- I-to-my self, symptom !— the exact case to a hair ! — never was any thing more plain ! " Tell me, my heart, if this be Love t Yes, undoubtedly ! — Neither fever-, nor pleurisy, nor peripneumony , nor phrenitis, nor a diseased liver, but love ! downright love. — My eyes were opened, I say. As ill luck would have it, however, Miss Twist, I believe, thought her eyes were opened too. She had no questions to ask her heart about love, for I be- lieve she was perfectly incapable of that amiable passion, in any serious degree \. nothing, I am con- fident, would ever have made her heart bump as mine did ; but having been instructed and tutored at home, to lay siege to my expected Barony that was coming from the North, and having fully learnt to believe from Father, Mother, Governess, Nurse, &c. &c. &c. that there was nothing she could pur- chase with her riches half so valuable as a coronet 102 THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. and supporters for her carriage, having the Twist arms in the full middle of all, as an heiress, she was interested in all the love-symptoms that could by any means be discovered in the heir-apparent of all these valuables, and therefore she thought it worth her while to make that malady her study, and as she could not fairly ask to feel my pulse, she could only judge at a distance as it were : — so she had made already almost as much of this one verse as I had : " When Delia on the plain appears," was to her, when Miss Twist comes in her carriage ; — " Awed by a thousand tender fears, I would ap- proach," — she put, u He would approach ;" — that is, me, (me myself me) the clod-pole, "he would ap- proach, but dare not move." /~^~ I dont't wonder she was mistaken ; — for certainly I was " awed" though not by " tender fears :" — I was afraid of her ologies, and heap of vain accom- plishments : and though I certainly did not wish to approach her, yet as I certainly did not approach her so much as she wished and expected, it was a fair conjecture to think I would, but could not, and that I dared not move, and so take it altogether, no won- der her pride and prepossessions plainly told her, that this was love ; — love in me towards her own sweet person ; — she therefore made sure of her game : THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 103 the song being asked for again, convinced her that it was by way of enabling her to discover the pre- cious secret ; so that she felt quite assured of being her Ladyship already, and wondered what could make the old people in the North live so long : my father and mother also, I apprehend, she wished somewhat older, though perhaps she would have allowed the latter a little respite as a Dowager. / I thought, however, I had made two discoveries from this song : — the third stanza pleased me as much as any ; — for by applying it to Emily Mande- ville, I began to flatter myself I had discovered a reason for her turning away, when her mother and I were talking so much about the ball at Nicotium Castle, and the accomplishments of Miss Twist. " If she some other youth commend." Thinks-I-to-myself, why not — " If he some other maid commend V 9 " Though I was once his fondest friend ;" " Why not," says I, " her fondest friend V- — " His instant enemy I prove ;" — u Why not," says I, " her enemy ?" and so on : — surely, Thinks- I-to-myself, — symptoms again : — my heart bumped more than ever, but it was become quite a pleasant sensation ; — I had quite given up all thoughts of asking the apothecary about it ;— I meant hence- 104 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. forward to ask nobody about it, but Dr. Emily Man- deville. [I had not time yet to think the least in the world about Miss Twist's disappointment ; — yideed I could not care a halfpenny about it ; — for, Tkinks-I-to- myself, love won't kill her, and there are coronets enough to be had for money ; who knows but she may buy an Earl or a Duke; — but poor Emily Mandeville can't buy even a Baron; and thus I ran ©n whenever my thoughts took that turn : — how- ever, I could not help now beginning to make com- parisons between the heiress of Nicotium Castle, and the meek-eyed maiden of the Vicarage. — Thinks- I-to -myself, what's all her Chemistry and Geology, and French and Italian, to the plain sense and rational understanding of Emily Mandeville ? What are all the airs and graces, and conceit and affectation of the haughty Miss Twist, to the artless simplicity and unassuming innoeence of the Vicar's daughter? She may ride in her coach, and have necklaces and bracelets of the choicest jewellery, she may sing like a Catalani, or dance like a Doga- Icuri, but I want not to pass my life amidst diamonds and rubies ; I want something better to associate with than the puppets of an Opera House. But there was one circumstance with regard to TRINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 105 the Twists that had a great tendency to set me against them : — they seemed to me to have no sense of religion; — their pew at church was gene- • rally empty, or if they chanced to come there, they were too late, or there was such a talking in their pew, or they seemed none of them to have any books, or they knew nothing of the sermon after- wards, or something or other happened to convince me, that they had not any of them any proper sense of religion at all ; — Church was a bore to Miss Twist ; — Mr. Mandeville's sermons were shockingly long; — her papa always took a novel in his pocket, and Mrs. Twist w r ished she was close to the parson with a spur, to urge him on a little quicker : now I shall make no scruple to say, I had ever a propensity to hold such sort of people in absolute contempt and abhorrence ; — my father and mother had each of them a just sense of religion ; — they were Chris- tians, not in form only, but at heart ; — they never disputed about it, or made a parade of it,, but any thing that in the least offended against the sacred- ness of place, person, or thing, connected with reli- gion, excited their displeasure ; — so that I was bred up from a child to entertain a reverence for whatever belonged to it ; and it is no wonder that this should have led me to look more narrowly into these mat- 106 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. ters, and make it no subordinate object of my studies.— I was fond of books always. — I had been admirably instructed : — Mrs. Fidget thought me a clod-pole because I could not talk in the way she did, but while she talked without thinking, /thought with- out talking; — I would not be so uncivil to Mrs. Fid- get, as to insist upon it without farther argument, that I- had the advantage, but it appeared to me, I must confess, that I was no clod-pole for what I did. I never shall regret the want of language that may have excited Mrs. Fidget's spleen ; — want of thought would have given me more concern : — but to return to what I was discoursing upon. — Bred up as I had been, it may easily be sup- posed, Mr. Mandeville's house and manners, and way of going on, were more congenial to my feel- ings, than the empty glare and glitter of Nicotium Castle : — at Mr. Mandeville's every thing was re- gular, comfortable, and consistent ; one could have stepped at any time out of his house into the other world without confusion, but at Nicotium Castle, nothing was regular, nothing comfortable, nothing- natural ; — all artificial, and as for stepping out of that gawdy Castle into the other world, it was quite horrible and shocking to think of it. Thinks-I-to- mi/self,— (often,) What will the angels say to thee, THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 107 Mr. Twist, when thou appearest at the gate of heaven? Alas! Thinks- I-to -myself, surely I know: — " Thou in thy life-time reeeivedst thy good things, likewise Lazarus evil things:" — I had not so little charity as to be ever able to proceed ; for after all, the melancholy thing was, — Mr. Twist knew nothing about the other world ! — he knew much more of the Sporting Calendar than of the Bible. He thought, probably, (if he ever thought at all upon the subject) that there was a regular Nicotium Castle prepared for him among the many mansions we read of in the Book of God; — and that if there were anything that might not come to him in the way of inheri- tance, merit, or grace, money could purchase it. I am afraid I have fallen deep into a digression : well then, gentle reader, if you don't like this di- gression, burn all the rest of the book, but don't touch the digression itself :— give it me back again ; — I value it ; — I don't care what you like or dislike, — upon that particular topic, I will speak my mind: —If I am to be a Clod-pole, let me for God's sake, be at least a religious one. My worthy, good, and kind mother, thought the ball at Nicotium Castle was too pointed, not to ren- der it strictly incumbent on her, to give a ball at Grumblethorpe Hall; at which, good soul, I make 108 THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. no manner of doubt, she looked forward, with feel- ings something like those of Mrs. Twist, (only not so vulgar,) to the pleasure of seeing Miss Twist and me dance together. She spoke of it to my father, and as he thought it quite right, to be sure it must be done directly; — for the only thing in which I think my poor mother might be vulgar and unfashionable, was that of having a perfect defer- ence to the opinion of my father, — so much so, that I have often thought she really loved him : — but what made a great puzzle and combustion among us sometimes was, that my father had just as great a deference for my mother, so that if by any un- toward accident, any project, business, or engage- ment hung upon a balance between them, it was almost impossible that it should ever get settled ; — each insisting so strenuously not to have it their own icay, that I am confident, that had it been left to them to settle the planetary system, and the dis- pute had been about the right and left course of the orbits, that glorious luminary, the sun, might have stood still for ever, without a single body to revolve around him. Well, the ball was of course determined upon, and the day fixed : and in two days after the de- termination, a pack of printed cards having been THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 109 procured, numberless invitations were written, many of them by Clod-pole himself, but here a great difficulty arose ; — my sister wished all the Mande- villes to be invited, and to have beds at the hall ; my mother assured her they were not of the party at Nicotium Castle ; " not," says she, " that I think them unworthy of having been there, for on the contrary, I think it would have been better had Mrs. Twist invited them, but only now they will not expect to be invited ; — but I will see what your father says :" I said nothing, and I thought nothing! for I was, as it were, flabbergasted; — what that means, I don't know, but having heard it used upon occasion by very elegant people, I adopt it, as it seems to me, to mean something very applica- ble to my feelings. I shall cease to describe the bumpings I had at my heart, because I now understood them, and thought them quite natural. I confess, I felt anx- ious about my father's coming home, though nei- ther my mother, nor my sister, said a word about it : at last, however, he came ; — he had been out a riding with Mr. and Mrs. Twist, of all the people in the world, so that I augured rather unfavour- ably as to the issue of the business : — he was not long returned before he came into my mother's 110 THItfKS-I-TO MYSELF. room: Thinks- I-to-my self, I wish I was dead and buried. I expected them to begin upon it imme- diately; — but no such thing: — the deuce of a word was uttered either about the Twists or the Mande- villes, for a full quarter of an hour at least : — at last, my sister began; — says she, "Papa, don't you mean that the Mandevilles shall be invited to the Ball?" Just at this moment, the servant entered, and my father was called out of the room; — I could have freely knocked the fellow on the head ; — Thinks- 1- to-mysclf, he did it on purpose : — however, the business was not urgent, and my father came back again ; — says my sister, as before, " Papa, don't you mean to have the Mandevilles invited to the Ball? 1 ' "Who are invited?" says my father. " Every body," says my mother, H that was at Nico- tium Castle;" — u the Mandevilles were there," says my father hastily ! — " no, not one of them," says my mother: — " then," says my father, " it's a d n'd shame ! !" — My mother, and my sister, and myself, all slunk back ; — such an expression from such a mouth bespoke an earnestness we were unaccus- tomed to ! — says my father, ** Are you sure they were none of them there?" — "Indeed," says my mother, " they were none of them invited ;"— THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. Ill "then," says my father, send to them directly, an4 tell 'em, we have beds for them all, and tell 'em we'll send the carriage for them, and tell 'em to bring my favourite young Tom, and tell 'em they had better come to dinner that they may be in time ;" — so saying, he quitted the room, and banged the door after him, as much as to say, f< I'm almost in a passion :" — my mother said not a w r ord, but went and got some paper ; — says she, " don't send a car d> it's too formal; here write what your father said," holding out a sheet of pa- per ; — my sister gladly took the pen,, and scribbled away the full amount of my father's liberal invita- tion ; — I wished very much to be the messenger to \ carry the note to the Vicarage, but I could not muster up quite courage enough to propose it ; — so it was sent in a common way. ■ My mother was particularly anxious not to be at any extraordinary expence about the Ball, though my sister had heard a great deal about the splen- dor of that at Nicotium Castle, and wished of course, that our's should be as grand; lam not sure but she had some bumpings at the heart about it, she seemed so earnest; — but my mother took pains to convince her, that extravagance was no real mark of gentility-; — that it was better to ap- 112 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. pear to want some things that might have been procured, than to go much out of the way to pro- cure things that might reasonably be dispensed with; — says she, "my dear, the Twists sent for every thing from London ; — surely it is better to have it supposed that we need send for nothing f* } It may easily be imagined that 'till the day came, not much else was thought of; — it was amusement to my mother and sister, it had much in it to pro- duce my dumpings at heart, and as for my father, he waited patiently for it, I believe, without giving himself a moment's concern about the business. Though I had not ventured to ask to carry the note to the Vicarage, I could not help going there soon after, over Twist stile and all : — when I got there, I said, "I hoped we should see them;" — for they did not immediately answer the note, not knowing how to arrange about the dining and sleeping, 8cc. ; — says I, " I hope you will all come," and, Thinks- I-to-myself I hope my dear Emily will dance with me, but as for uttering it, I might as well have been born dumb : — it passed in my mind freely enough, to and fro, upwards and down- wards — but out of my mind, not a hair's breadth : — I looked and sighed, and like Alexander the Great, " sighed and looked again." — *' Pray," says Emily, THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 113 94 Do the Twists dine and sleep there ?" says I, " O no, God forbid !" — I was afraid I had spoken too hastily, but I took particular notice that she looked uncommonly happy : — I took my leave soon after, and returned home. At length the day of days came. The carpet was taken up in the drawing-room, and the floor all chalked in fine coloured figures and compartments. All the Mandevilles came to dinner, but it was ra- ther bustle and confusion, for the dining-room was to be the supper-room, and so, soon wanted: — how- ever, I was much pleased with some conversation that took place between my father and Mr. Man- deville after dinner. " I wish, Mr. Mandeville/' says my father, " every body would bring up their family, as you bring up your's." " I don't know, Sir/' says Mr. Mandeville, " I bring them up to learn all that I thijik really ne- cessary^ and all that is in my power to teach them/' " Thafs just what 1 like," says my father; « Why should our children be made so much wiser than ourselves ? — Why should it be thought neces- sary that because there happen now to be a profu- sion of teachers, in all branches of knowledge* i 1 14 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. every thing that is to be taught, must be learnt? — Why am I to be bound to give guinea after guinea to have my daughter taught every thing that other people choose to learn, and merely on that account, without the least regard to her na- tural genius, taste, or capacity ; and when I am perfectly assured that more than half of what she so learns can be of no benefit to her husband, or her children, or her children's children, and can only be acquired by a profligate waste and expence of that time, which not only might be bestowed on studies of real importance, but on such as must tend to the use, and benefit, and delight of all con- nected with her? — there's our neighbour Miss Twist, — to be sure she knows, in some way or other, abundance of things ; — she is, what the world calls, highly accomplished ; — nor am I disposed to blame her parents for any care or cost they have bestowed on her, — but the effect of it is, in many cases, absurd and preposterous, — if it tends to set off the daughter, it tends as much to degrade the parents; for it is self-evident, that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Twist have sufficient knowledge of half the things their daughter hath been taught, to be able to judge of her progress and acquirements; — it is fifty to one but that in merely talking of them, TH1NKS-I-TOMYSELF. 115 they continually expose themselves by their igno- rance and blunders, and what is worse than all, their daughter must know that they do so if she know any thing as she should do : — now your daughters, Mr. Mandeville, learn of you and Mrs. Mandeville, nothing but what is, and ever will be, essential, useful, proper, and becoming ; — and learn- ing it of you and you only, they never can come to look down upon you ; they must look up to you, as children should do, with respect and reverence, and esteem ; and the utmost of their aspiring must be, to be as wise and as good as yourselves ; — be- sides, Mr. Mandeville, as to the great and only knowledge, that is of real importance to us all, you must know better than me, that it is almost the only kind of learning they never take much pains to acquire : — I don't suppose any of your learned profession were ever called upon by father, mother, or guardian, to teach their son, or daughter, or ward, Divinity, — that is, I mean Christianity ; and yet a few guineas so bestowed, might, per- haps, go as far to help their appearance in the other world, as many guineas in this, — aye, and benefit some fellow-creature, possibly, of more worth, than fifty fiddlers or dancing-masters. f I wish, Mr. Mandeville, you could get the i 2 1 16 TH1NKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. Twists to attend church a little oftener : — I hate to see their pew empty almost every sabbath day ; it is quite a pity : — Twist is a good-natured rattle, and as for Mrs. Twist, I am confidei^t, that if any body could ever once convince her, that there were one or two accomplishments wanting to set her daughter off to advantage, (for that is the great -ob- ject of all mothers, now-a-days,) in another world besides this, which I fear has never once entered Mrs. Twist's head ; I am persuaded, I say, that she would not neglect to enquire after some teacher or other, who might render her not deficient, in the courts above." Mr. Mandeville was preparing to reply, when a solemn message w T as brought from the upper house, which was privately delivered to my father : — Thinks- I-to-myself, a motion to adjourn, — and so it turned out, — for the Speaker immediately quit- ted the chair, and after asking Mr. Mandeville if he would drink any more wine, he publicly an- nounced the summons he had had to the drawing- room, and we prepared to follow him. ^_ When we went up stairs, the room was almost full. My father, of course, went boldly into the middle of them all : Mr. Mandeville and myself remained near the door. I cast my eyes round THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 117 and round, and round again, before I could fairly discern what I most wished to see ;< — at length, I espied, on one side of the room, behind a number that were standing up, Mrs. and the three Miss Mandevilles sitting close together, like a hen and so many chickens : — I felt an irresistible desire to go to them, but though there was a near way of doing it, I found, upon attempting it, I could not stir; — I feltjustasifmy right leg wanted to go, but my left leg pulled it back; — Thinks-Lto-myself r " I would approach but dare not move;" "Tell me my heart," &c. At length a fresh party arrived, and we were fairly pushed further into the room : —I then did sedulously endeavour to keep in that direction, and as Mr. Mandeville seemed to have no other object as w r ell as myself, we gradually got nearer and nearer, though continually interrupted of course by the greetings and salutes of divers persons and parties whom we passed. Nothing ran in my head but the being in time to ask Emily to dance with me the two first dances, but as for hastening to her for this purpose, it was quite out of question; — my left leg still kept pulling me back, as I thought. Some preparations now bogan to be made for be- ginning the ball, and I felt suite sure that I should 118 THJNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. be too late to accomplish my end, when, as good luck would have it, Mr. Mandeville made a bold push to get at them, and I followed close in the rear : — the point now seemed to me to be accomplished : — I had got close to Emily, and was just in the act of stooping to ask her to be my partner, (for human threadpapers you know are generally pretty tall,) when I received such a horrible pinch just on the tender part above the elbow of my right arm, that I had liked to have screamed aloud : Thinks-I-to- myself, spring-guns and steel-traps, as sure as I am born ! ! — It was my father in fact, who leaning over two benches, said in great haste, " Bob, come here, I have engaged you to Miss Twist ;" — being too confused to think or say any thing to myself, as customary, I mechanically answered, " I'll come directly, Sir," possibly, with an appearance of joy rather than sorrow, for these contradictions were among the symptoms of my complaint : — I was just going to say to Emily, " pray dance w r ith me the two next dances," but alas ! at that instant, a tall / ^^ashing young man came up to her, and asked her to dance, and she assented, as I fancied, with peculiar satisfaction. I now had to find my father and Miss Twist, which I was not long 1 in doins>* ;— the music had TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 1 19 began to play, and all was in a complete bustle. I found Miss Twist, standing before Mrs. Twist, who seemed to be looping up her gown, and making other preparation for dancing : — I went to her, put- ting on my gloves. " Miss Twist/' says I, " I believe I am to have the honour of dancino* with you :" — she bobbed something at me, which I sup- pose she called a curtsey, and was soon ready to be led into the ranks ; — but here, fresh difficulties again ensued : — my mother had carefully invited all that she had met at Nicotktm Castle, but being much better known in the neighbourhood, and willing that none should be excluded, her invitations had extended upwards and downwards to many more : — at the lower extremity, besides the Mandevilles, there was another Clergyman's family, three young ladies who lived with an old aunt, just by, that never tvent out, and poor Miss Creepmouse, w T ho also sel- dom got such a holiday : — there were some young men, whose parents were worthy, but not over gen- teel, and a few officers from the barracks, particu- larly and respectably recommended to their notice ; — (Mrs. Twist had invited them all indiscriminate- ly) ; — at the upper extremity there were the addi- tions of Lord and Lady Charleville, the two Miss Charlevilles, a niece of Lord Charleville's, and his 120 THINKS-I-TO-MYSEfcF. eldest son, a Lieutenant in the Guards; — there were Sir Henry and Lady Lydiard, their three daughters, and two sons; — there were besides, a Mr. Wentworth, and Lady Maria Wentworth, the sister of a Scotch Marquis, and their daughter, Miss Wentworth. Lord Charleville had thought it proper to engage my sister, and led her to the top of the room. Poor Miss Twist having begun her own ball, very much wished, I believe, to begin our's too ; — she sidled up close to my sister, and seemed evidently to wish to stand at least next to her ; — the order of precedency, I believe, had never yet been duly studied at Nicotium Castle : — I began to be frigh- tened, because at one time the Miss Charleville's, who were not what I call high-bred, but thorough- bred, seemed disposed to overlook her attempt to get above them, and to give way to her, which would have made her so conspicuously wrong, that I should have been quite distressed ; my sister managed to prevent it by gently retaining the Miss Charlevilles next to her, we were obliged to cast down two couple ;: — that brought us to the Miss Lydiards : — they were by no means so well inclined to part with their places; — they well knew that they must come next to the Honourables : — as they THINKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. 121 hung together, we were here obliged to east down three couple more ; — and then came another hitch, for there stood Miss Wentworth, but the youngest Miss Lydiard, grasped so fast hold of her hand, just at the moment Miss Twist made iter last effort to insert herself among the grandees, that we were compelled to cast off one more couple, and did not therefore fairly get a place till we were the eighth couple from the top. /As I had nothing to do but to keep pace with her on the gentlemen's side of the party, I at length got my proper station opposite to her : — Tkinks-I- to-myself, — mortified! — as it manifestly proceeded from ignorance, I felt sorry for her, though it was well for her to gain such experience any how : Mrs. Twist feeling if possible more for her than she felt for herself, came up to her, and I overheard her whisper, — " they are the Honourable Miss Charle- ville's, and Sir Henry's daughters,, you know," and so on, — which I apprehend, gave her some comfort and consolation ; how much I cannot pretend to say. I The ball had now actually begun. I ventured to cast my eyes frequently down towards where the Miss Mandevilles stood, and every time it struck me, that Emily seemed particularly happy with her / partner ;— how much I wished her to be walking in 122 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. the garden at the Vicarage ! Thinks-1-to-myself, Fll never go there again :— as we drew near to the top, it struck me that whenever w r e set off, we should make a rattling like that of a team of horses with their loose harness returning from plough ; for Miss Twist had on her neck such a profusion of pen- dent ornaments, that it looked as if in dressing she had taken no other care but to avoid leaving one trin- ket behind ;— she had on first, an exceeding handsome pearl necklace ; then, suspended to one gold chain, a locket richly set in diamonds, in which appeared to be twisted and entwined, the respective ringlets of her honoured parents ; then suspended to another gold chain, an agate essence bottle set in gold, filled w r ith otto of roses ; — and besides that, though she was about as near-sighted as a lynx, suspended on a third gold chain, an eye-glass, surrounded with large pearls ; — how all these things were to be safely conveyed to the end of thirty or forty couple, ap- peared to me to be a mystery, and as it happened I was right, for we had scarcely got down three couple, before the gold mounted essence bottle fell foul of the pearl eye-glass, and broke it all to pieces ; — the glass itself was of course no loss, and as it drew the attention of all the company to the splen- dour of the setting, it had a most desirable effect : THINKS-l-TO-MYS£Ll\ 123 Thinks-I-to-myself, that will be mended before the next ball, and perhaps the essence bottle will be left to dangle just as near to it as ever. As soon as this little interruption was settled, which brought up Mrs. Twist, and seemed to inte- rest her exceedingly, we w r ent on, turning and twist- ing generally so separated from each other, that I had little occasion to talk to her (and I was heartily glad of it) : — when we got to Miss Mandeville and her dashing partner, I had to set corners with her, and turn her : I had determined to give her a little gentle rebuke for her indifference, but when I touched her hand, my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and I could not utter a word : — I had the resolution, however, to swing her off with a re- markable air of unconcern, and I flattered myself that she seemed hurt ; Thbiks-I-to-myself, — affront- ed! when we had really got to the bottom, Miss Twist fanned herself, and breathed hard : I said, * tf it is very hot, but it was a pretty dance ;" — " too crow T ded ;"■ — and a number of other common-place ball remarks, which did very well, and were quite enough, I have a notion, to satisfy her that I was in love with her : — we danced down the second dance together, and then she bobbed a curtsey, and I 124 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. bobbed a bow, like Mother Hubbard and he? Dog, and it was all very well settled. As I went tip to my sister directly afterwards, 1 was amused with the different manner in which I found all the party came to ask her the same ques- tion : — of course, as in all other balls, there was a certain sprinkling of fine ladies, and quizzy gentle- men, as well as of quizzy ladies and fine gentlemen, so that the several partnerships were, as it might be, ill or well arranged ; — those that happened to be well mated, and to have found partners to their sa- tisfaction, came slow r ly up to my sister, and rather plaintively, and timidly addressed her, " Do we change partners, Miss Dermont ?" — but those who were ill-matched, and wanted to shake off a quizzy partner, came boldly up, " We change partners, don't we, Miss Dermont?" — I made many observa- tions of this nature, though nobody guessed what I was about : — I saw abundance of untoward circum- stances, though well-disguised, that convinced me, it might be very neighbourly, but was in reality the cruellest thing in the world, to make such a party.. During the two first dances, I was sorry to see poor Mrs. Fidget, who had two daughters in the room, quite unable to get a partner for either \ — XHINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 125 they were, in truth, very cross-looking girls, and by no means popular in the neighbourhood : she came repeatedly behind me, during the dance, with Miss Matilda hanging upon her arm., complimented me about my dancing, and my good looks; — as I never had any malice in my disposition, I really should have been glad to have asked her daughter to dance, but while I had resolved in my own mind to die, rather than ask Emily Mandeville, yet I could not help wishing to keep myself disengaged, for fear I should die if I by any means put it out of my power to dance with her. All the Mandevilles were so pretty that they never wanted partners ; — beauty brings down pride as well as money, or any thing : — had there been fifty lords in the room, FU be bound Emily Mande- ville might have danced with them all : — I studiously avoided taking any notice of her, (though it occa- sioned horrible bumpings) and for the two second dances I engaged myself (by my mother's desire) to Miss Charleville. I w r as surprised to see with how much greater ease and civility she conducted herself all down the dance than had be£ii the case with Miss Twist ; — and having no dangling ornaments at all, we got safely and without interruption to the bottom:— 126 THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. Thinks- I-to-my self, either Emily Mandeville or Miss Charleville, and I gave myself great credit for having the resolution to compare any-body with the former. It would be absurd to go more than necessary into the detail of the Ball, but before it was over, one or two things occurred which I cannot leave unnoticed : — when Miss Twist had regularly sur- mounted all the seven couple that originally stood above her, and seen them safely removed to the bottom of the set, and had herself fairly attained the summit, so that according to the etiquette of things, it was her turn to call the two next dances ; — lo ! and behold she had no partner ; I had been w T andering about the room, watching Emily and her partner, and had not attempted to engage myself, when my mother came up to me, and desired that I would by all means, if not engaged, go and ask Miss Twist ; — at the moment, I am confident, she had no thoughts of any thing but that of shewing a civility to her company : — had any other been in that situation, she would have done the same, but now the business was out ; — I had occasion to know afterwards, that divers shrewd persons among the kindest of her neighbours, had noticed the close siege she seemed to be laying to the Twist domains ; —-Mr. Robert Bermont, it seems, had danced twice THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 127 with Miss Twist, but not once with either of the Miss Fidgets !— twice with Miss Twist, but not once with any of the four Miss Gogmagogs , — they might have added, twice with Miss Twist, and not once with either of the three Miss Mandevilles ; but had I danced but once with any of the latter, a dif- ferent sort of wonderment would no doubt have been excited, and perhaps still more degrading in- sinuations thrown out ; as it was, my mother's art- ful designs upon Nieotium Castle, were judged to be as evident and as capable of demonstration, as if the settlements had been signed and sealed : all this I found out afterwards :— what added consider- ably to these foul appearances was, that as ill luck would have it, the two dances called by Miss Twist were the two last before supper, so that I was doomed to have the additional felicity of handing ( her to the supper-room, and sitting next to her at that awful solemnity ; — when every thing that is done, said, or seen, is sure to be taken strict ac- count of, and made the subject of conversation for the next half year. When supper was over, we returned to the Ball- room, where we continued dancing " till Phoebus 'gan to rise :" — I still sedulously avoided all the Mandevilles : — I felt sure that Emily w r ould dream 128 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. of nothing but her smart partners, and that she did not deserve another bump of my poor heart ; — be- fore it was all finished, however, she appeared to be indisposed, and therefore quite retired from the set ; — I had many doubts and misgivings whether I should condescend to go and ask her how she did : — Thinks- I-to-myself, she has been smitten at first sight by some of her dashing partners, and why should I not leave her to suffer ? While I was thinking all this, Mr. Mandeville came and shook me hastily by the hand, " Good night," says he, u Emily is not very well, and Lady Charleville has been so obliging as to insist upon her carriage taking us home :" — had I beeii shot through the heart I could not have felt more ! — the Ball was nearly over, and all my happiness had been frustrated : I went with him to the party, where I found them all cloaking up, being in haste not to keep Lady Charleville's ^carriage waiting. I offered Emily my arm, which she accepted. " I am sorry," says I, u you are not well ; I was in hopes it had been particularly pleasant to you, you had such a heap of smart partners ;" — " They were all strangers to me" she said in some haste : (( why you did not like them the worse for that, surely !" said I ; " Indeed,' 1 says she, " I should have liked THINKS-I-TO-MYSKLF. 129 old friends and acquaintances better, and you don't know me, if you think otherwise:" — she had no sooner said it, than I fell into one of the most dreadful fits of bumping I ever felt : — I had only time to press her hand, and help her into the carriage, and when I returned into the ball-room, every thing looked stranger than I can describe ; I felt that all J cared for, was on the way to the Vicarage, and that I had fairly been making a fool of myself during the whole evening : — to mend matters, Mrs. Twist came up to me, and asked me how the Mandevilles were to get home, plainly insinuating that they had no carriage, but never offering her own i — " Ma'am," says I, " my father's carriage brought them here,, and would have conveyed them home, had not Lord and Lady Charleville been so good as to insist upon their taking their coach :"• — then Mrs. Twist, for the first time, began to say, they should have been welcome to her's ; but I knew better, The Bail at length ended ; every body went home to bed, and to sleep, except probably myself, who had the heart-bumping all night, besides pulses in my ears, and a hundred other love-sick affections. It was some time afterwards that it came into my head to take some account of this Ball, which my good father and mother had given solely with f 130 THINKS-I-'ro-"MYSELI\ the view of contributing what they thought incum- bent on them to the amusement and happiness of their neighbours, but which, in fact, or at least, in all probability, turned out quite otherwise : — in the first place, by endeavouring to extend their invita- tions as far as they could, for the sake of pleasing as many as possible, they invited some to whom they were scarcely known ; this of course affronted many who were entirely strangers, but who con- ceived that they might as well have been asked as the others : — by endeavouring to mortify no persons who had any pretensions to be invited, though not in a rank of life to associate generally with the neigh- bourhood, they let loose upon them abundance of persons still lower, who judged themselves to be not only equal, but superior to those who w r ere in- vited. I cannot describe to you how low we might have gone, had we endeavoured to satisfy all these pre- judices and pretensions; — I am confident that in the course of things, the blacksmith's wife would have felt insulted to have been left out ; then as to the real pleasure and happiness afforded to those who came : — above half undoubtedly went away dis- satisfied ; some envying us things that they could not command at home ; some attributing all that THINKS-I-TO-MVSELi K 131 they saw to the mere love of show and parade ;— there were some sorry their daughters had not found partners for every dance ; — some sorry they had \ been introduced to such low partners, quite beneath them ; — while, probably, those very partners thought they had condescended greatly to dance with them at all ; — Mrs. Twist was evidently j ealous of my mother's being able to get certain grand and titled visitors that were not to be seen at Nicotium Castle, while those titled visitors had a hard matter to assume even their proper places without offence ; some thought themselves neglected, some caught cold, some sat too low at the supper-table, some could have sung after supper if they had been asked, some were af- fronted because they were asked, in short, take it altogether, though nobody would have been absent, none were entirely satisfied with being present, and my poor father and mother were answerable for every thing. — Thinks-I-to-myself, — mighty sociable ! — delightful neighbourhood! — amiable people! ( The next morning when I was in my mother's dressing-room with my father and herself, my fa- ther said, " Have you sent to enquire after Miss Mandeville?"— Says- I-to-my self, " I'll go;"— so I turned round abruptly to my mother, and as much f / as could be, thought I was going to offer to go, but K 2 132 THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. a sudden overwhelming confusion came across me; and the words that really came out of my mouth were, " Shall I go and send Thomas ?" Not one of the three last words having been in my mind before ; I had merely intended to intimate that I would go and enquire after her myself: — Thinks- I-to-my self, such blunders as these can't be love ; — this must be peripneumony or phrenitis, and I had better take some more physic for it. Thomas was sent, and Thomas returned : — many thanks ; — Miss Mandeville was something; better : — something better, Thinks-I-to-myself, — Why can- not I go and nurse her, and sit up with her night and day ! — My father proposed a ride, and when we had mounted our horses, he further proposed riding directly to Nicotium Castle, to know how they were after their fatigue ; — I made no objection : — as we rode through the woods in our approach to the castle, my father threw out a thousand hints that I very well undersood, but beyond mere hints he did not venture to advance : — " It is the beauty of our constitution/' says he, " Bob, that though there may be said to be in it, a distinct aristocracy and democracy, yet means are provided for the con- tinual union and junction of these two branches ; — they are distinct in themselves, but yet, by a thou- THIN K3-1-TOMYS ELF. 133 sand circumstances, they get mingled and blended together, to the evident advantage of both ; — as a commercial country, every branch of trade is so favoured, that the lowest person among us may by industry become as rich as the highest, and, by so doing, can raise his family to such a pitch of splen- dour and elegance, that they gradually and natu- rally slide into the stream of nobility ; while the nobility, w T ho have no such rapid means of repair- ing the wear and tear of their estates, and who are never excused from keeping up a certain degree of state and parade, are willing enough to assist in the elevation of their rich inferiors ; and thus, as I said before, provision seems to be made, by the very cir- cumstances of our excellent constitution, for the occasional amelioration of both branches, and the junction of the two extremes." After this curious diatribe on our admirable con- stitution, we rode for some time without exchanging a word ; — I knew what my father meant : — Thinks- I-to-myself " War begets poverty, poverty peace : peace makes riches flow, fate ne'er does cease, war begets poverty, poverty peace :" — tobacco is a bewitching drug : the trade in tobacco there- fore brings great riches^ riches naturally lead to great pretensions : therefore a tobacconist's grand- daughter is fit for a Peeress, — or, a Peer may HI* ■ 134 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, be poor; poverty may disable him from sup- porting his proper state and splendour; — without state and splendour, he is no better than a tobacco- nist ; — let the poor Peer then but marry the proud tobacconist, and all is properly settled. — " War be- gets poverty, poverty peace." As we approached the Castle, many remarks were made on the beauty of the situation, &c. &c, and some projects hinted as to the improvements that might be made, if both 4 ' estates were ever to come by any accident into the hands of one and the same individual! When we were shown up into the drawing-room, we found that none of the ball party had yet made their appearance ; — there was nobody to receive us but Miss Watson, the Governess ; — she was a very sensible worthy woman, the daughter of a deceased Clergyman ; we sat with her some time, before Mrs. and Miss Twist came to us ; upon their entrance, Miss Watson arose, and Mrs. Twist took her chair, Miss Twist at the same time seating herself without farther ceremony ; my father got up to set another chair for Miss Watson, but Mrs. Twist verv con- siderately interfered, and by a certain look and mo- tion with her head, directed the poor humble Gover- ness to retire. We did not stay long, as they had their break- THINKS-I-TO-MYSELr. 135 fast to take : Mrs. Twist said she meant to drive to the Hall to enquire after my mother, which we did not prevent : but after having received a thousand compliments about the extreme delight they had received at the ball, both from mother and daughter, took our leave. As we rode away from the Castle, my father said all of a sudden, " Poor Miss Watson !" Thinks-I- to-myself " Why poor Miss Watson ?" we rode on ; — not a word till we got near a quarter of a mile further : when my father could contain no longer. — " Did you see, Bob," says he, " how Mrs. Twist sent Miss Watson out of the room ? — Surely it is wrong to degrade a Governess in that manner, in the eyes of her pupil ! the tutor of any young man of fortune ox family may become Archbishop of Canterbury, and, why are the teachers of the other sex to be kept down below par, as they generally are ? What can be meant by it ? Is not the mere having a Governess for their daughters, a tacit con- fession, that the mothers themselves are not able to teach them ; and if so, is it not an even chance at least, that the Governess is far the most wise and deserving of the party ? as for the want of time, which is the excuse too generally made, time itself was intended only for such ends, and therefore so 136 THINKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. far from this being a fair excuse, it is the very ex- cuse a mother ought not to dare to make." f 1 But/' continues he, " if hirelings of that de- scription must be employed, it should at least not be forgotten, what sort of hirelings they are ; — they are, in fact, hired Mothers; — Mothers 9 substitutes, deputies, representatives, and I fear too often better mothers than the principals ; I don't like such an appendage to a family in general, for where they are bad, they are the very worst of evils; but if we ?nust have them, let us do them every justice they may deserve. Such are the changes and chances and revolutions of life, that it is often probable that a Governess may become dependent on a person naturally and originally far below her in the order of society, not to mention again the probability of far greater mental and intellectual endowments; how grating must it be to such a person to be not only treated as dependent by such mothers, but as inferior to them : — I confess, I wish the worthy among these substitutes had but their fair chance of becoming Archbishops, and then they might have their revenge." My poor father, when any thing touched his feelings, spoke out freely — he forgot all his former hints and inuendoes upon such occasions; I saw TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 137 plainly that in his heart he could not bear the Tickts, in regard to some traits of their character. When we got home, we found that many persons had been there to enquire after my mother ; — every one, without exception, telling her, it was the plea" sunt est evening they ever spent. I am now coming to a remarkable period in my life, though I shall skip over most of the particulars. My father had long thought of sending me ta a Scotch University : — he much approved of Edin- burgh particularly, and he thought as I was one day or other to be a Scotch Peer, it might be con- ducive to my interest to send me thither : — of course, this greatly interrupted all the proceedings at Nico- tium Castle and the Vicarage, and a long suspence ensued both of my hatred and my love. 1 The day being fixed, I took leave of several of my neighbours, as I thought it became me, the Vicarage being the first and the last place I w r ent to for this purpose ; for indeed I could not help twice taking leave of that amiable and worthy family, and I saw so much reason to be satisfied that my approaching absence was really a matter of regret to them all, that I can scarcely say, when I quitted them, whether my heart was most heavy, or most light, it seemed weighed down with grief 138 TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELF. because I was going from them, yet elevated to a pitch of extreme joy by the manner in which my departure seemed to be felt : Thiiiks-I-io- myself, as I quitted the door for the last time, — 14 The benediction of these cov'ring heav'ns Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy To in-lay Heaven with Stars !" i" Every thing having been duly prepared for my journey, the day at last came for my leaving Grum- blethorpe for a longer period than had ever been the case before. My mother and my sister were very much depressed upon the occasion, though they did all they could to conceal it, and as every thing that they felt, my father felt also, it was a dismal morning altogether. There was much real and genuine grief indeed felt by us all, so that there was no room for the affectation of it. At Stamford, I was to be joined by my old tutor, who had been absent from Grumblethorpe for above a year and a half: — he was to accompany me into Scotland : — a trusty servant attended upon me, who was to wait upon us both during our sojournment at Edinburgh : — I need not describe the last par- ting; those who have any feeling will know the precise circumstances of it ; those that have none would not believe me if I described it ever so THlNKS-1-TG-MYSKLf . 139 faithfully. — The carriage at last drove from the £ate, and I bestowed a secret valediction and bless- ing, as I passed, on every tree and every path, and every gate and paling ; the sheep, and the geese, and the turkeys ; and, for the moment, could fairly have envied them all their dull privilege of staying where they were. I need not carry the reader along with me from stage to stage, during my long journey ; suffice it to say, that at Stamford I met my worthy tutor Mr. Hargrave, and whom it was a great satisfaction to me to join: — he proposed going westward into Scotland, and taking the Lakes in our way, which would also give me an opportunity of seeing Glas- gow, and other parts of Scotland, with ease, before I took up my abode at Edinburgh i — from Stam- ford, therefore, we proceeded through Nottingham- shire and Derbyshire, entering Yorkshire at Shef- field ; Mr. Hargrave was extremely careful to carry me to all the manufactories that we passed upon* our road, and I confess I was highly amused : — he took care that I should not observe these things in a careless cursory manner ; he explained to me, be- fore I saw any of them, the immense advantages ta be gained by the division of labour, which made me take the greater interest in examining the gra- 140 TH1NK3-I-TO-MYSELF. dual progress of the several productions of art which came in our way, from the first rude mate- rial to the utmost state of perfection in which it was sent out of the hands of the manufacturer; he made me acquainted with the natural properties and qualities of the rude materials themselves, whether mineral or vegetable ; he made me notice what manufactures were entirely dependent on the products of our own country, and what required the further aid and assistance of foreign and im- ported commodities : — by these means, I insensibly gained a knowledge of more than can easily be supposed, by any person who has not had the ad- vantage of such a companion in their travels ; — I became interested, before I was aware of the ends he had in view, in the study of Mineralogy, Che- mistry, Botany ; — in things relating to the Trade, Manufactures, and Commerce of the state ; — nay, of the whole world. Mr. Hargrave had a happy talent of placing every object that drew my attention, in various and distinct points of view, so that I might learn from it all that could possibly be said upon the subject. The china at Derby, and the cutlery goods at Shef- field, led him equally to expatiate upon all the several branches of knowledge I have enumerated ; THXNKS-1-TO-MYSELF. HI — he would not only explain what different species of earths had been used in the several manufactures of china ware, but he would give me a general idea of the classification of minerals ; — shew me what rank the earths held among them, how many different sorts had been discovered ; — what were their distinct natural properties ; — what the general effects of their mixture and combination; — he would not only make me observe how they coloured the pieces, but he would explain how those colours [ were prepared ; — what were derived from the mine- ral, and what from the vegetable kingdom; — what were prepared at home, what foreign materials entered into their composition. Not content with this, he would often give me the exact natural historv of distinct minerals : ex- plain to me from what countries they came, how they w T ere procured, what connections we had with those countries, how the trade between us was con- ducted and carried on ; — he would sometimes enter into the particulars of the geographical and politi- cal circumstances of these countries; — how situa- ted ;— under what climate ; — how governed ; — and from hence perhaps take occasion to converse upon the different forms of governments that were known to subsist;— he would tell me, what other manu- 142 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. factures of the same kind existed in other parts, foreign and domestic;— the comparative estimation in which they were severally held ; — which were still in repute ; — which had fallen into decay ;— he would remark upon the prices of labour, as re- gulated by the price of provisions, scarcity or abundance of hands; — capital necessary for carry- ing on such works; — wholesomeness or unwhole- someness of different manufactures; — nature of the complaints produced by them : — in short, it was perfectly incredible to what an extent he would cany his observations in order constantly to keep my mind awake to that marvellous concatenation of circumstances by which all the several branches of knowledge might be said to bear upon one point ; — a Derby tea-cup was at any time sufficient to lead us far into Mineralogy, Botany, Chemistry, Natural History, History, Trade, Commerce, Eco- nomics, Politics, Geography, Navigation, and I know not what besides; — and though this may appear to some rather a desultry mode of instruc- tion, I am confident it had the effect of more tho- roughly expanding my mind, and enabling it to comprehend at one view, a multiplicity of objects, not confusedly, but by a regular concatention of particulars, and general association of ideas. TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 143 From Sheffield, we proceded by Barnsley, Wakefield, Leeds, Ripon, into Westmoreland. In most of these towns the clothing business excited our attention, and engaged us in very different studies from those suggested to us by the China and Hardware manufactories, but still with equal advantage : — all nature animate and inanimate seemed to be brought before me ; — I could not put my foot to the ground any longer with the indiffer- ence I used to do : — every clod of earth, and every \ weed I trod upon, appeared to have some history belonging to it ; it seemed scarcely credible that I could heretofore have passed so carelessly over objects so replete w T ith wonder, so curious, so useful, and of such infinite and inexhaustible varieties. ; Prom Ripon, we visited Studley, Hackfall, and Fountain's Abbey. These were objects of a totally different nature, and yet Mr. Hargrave found means to expatiate upon them as largely as he had treated of the manufactories. From our visit to Fountain's Abbey, I imbibed a taste for the study of Antiquities ; — he made me acquainted with the different styles of Architecture that had severally prevailed in various parts of the world ;— described to me particularly, the different proper- ties and supposed beauties of the Gothic, and 144 THINKS-I-TQ-MYSELF. gave me a circumstantial account of it's history ; — he entered deeply also into the particulars of the Monastic institutions, to which we owe so many of our finest ruins, and from thence would take occa- sion to compare the manners of former times with our own, observing as he went along, upon the superior advantages we enjoyed from the vast ac- quisition of knowledge since the reformation of Religion, the discovery of the art of Printing, the encouragement given to learning, and the great accumulation of valuable discoveries by means of experimental philosophy. Thus did we pass our time^till we arrived at the Lakes, where my mind at first seemed to be fully absorbed in the beauties of the scenery. Nothing could exceed my delight and surprise upon my first arrival at that most interesting part of the kingdom. Not content with skirting the different lakes, or visiting select points, I ascended all the mountains, visited every precipice, viewed every cataract from above and below, explored every valley, landed upon every island; — I saw every lake under every circumstance that was possible, by day and by night, at sun-set and at sun-rise, at dawn and at twilight, in the serenity of calms, and the turbulence of storms;— I was so struck THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 145 and fascinated with the delicious scenery, so differ- ent from the southern parts of England, that I could scarcely be brought to sleep a whole night in my bed ; — often would I get up by moon-light, and repair to the edge of the lake, to observe the peculiar tints occasioned by the radiance of that luminary, or if the wind blew strong, or the thun- der roared aloud, nothing could keep me in my , bed ; for, notwithstanding the insinuations of Mrs. Fidget, I am apt to hope, that poor Clodpole " was no vulgar boy." His picture, I think, is well enough drawn in the following lines : — il In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene ; In darkness, and in storing he found delight, Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene The southern sun diffused his dazzling shene, E'en sad vicissitudes amused his sou!} And if a sigh would sometimes intervene, And down his cheek a tear of pity roll, A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wish' d not to control." For it must not be supposed that I thought of nobody but myself in these romantic indulgences : — continually did my thoughts hurry me back to the happy mansion of my beloved father : — often did I wish my poor mother and sister could know L 146 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. how much amusement I had found on my journey ; — often did a tender recollection of Emily Mande- ville steal across me, and give a check to the trans- ports of my soul; — often have I thought as I gazed upon the moon, that she must be, probably shining in like manner, on those so dear to me at a distance, and that perhaps even the eyes of some of them might be fixed on her at that very moment. As often as these ideas came across me, my old complaint returned ; — my heart beat quicker, my breast heaved, till a sigh or a tear, or a successioa of both, eame to my relief- Mr. Hargrave seeing the delight I took in the peculiar nature of the scenery of these parts, indulged me with a longer stay there than he had at first intended : — he was himself, indeed, little less interested than I was, and would frequently visit the lake at untimely hours. In one of our night excursions, we passed many hours in a boat near one of the islands (I think they call it the Hermit's island) in Keswick Lake ; — the night was calm and serene ; — the moon shone beautifully, — reflected from the surface o( the lake in a long glittering stream of light, — gently agitated through its entire length by the undulations of a most re- freshing and delightful breeze : — the fall of Lowdore THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. 147 was to be heard at a distance, dashing down its rugged channel* At the extremity of the boat we had placed a small cannon, which in the very depth of night we ordered to be discharged, that we might enjoy in full perfection, the reverberation of the sound from the surrounding rocks and mountains. The effect was exceedingly striking and grand, varied probably by the different features of the several objects, from which the sound w r as returned upon our ears ; — first, perhaps, in an abrupt and sudden crash : — then in a long and distant mur- mur : — then in a loud roar, as it were nearer to us ; —as it was successively re-echoed from the dif- ferent mountains, we could regularly count seven distinct thunder-strokes, as produced by each dis- charge: — the deep shadow cast by Skiddaw over a part of the scenery to the north-east, added much to the beauty of the landscape. The time at length came, however, for our quit- ting this delicious spot, much to my regret and concern. The reader will easily guess how 7 much mental soliloquy, I had occasion to indulge, as I passed over these charming scenes. How often I must have Thought-to-mi/.seff, that in this island, or this valley, or on the side, or at the foot of this or that mountain, or at the point of this or that l2 148 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. promontory, hid for ever from the world by the deep shade of plantains, or of sycamores, I could delight to pass the rest of my life, with the inno- cent unassuming Emily: — the reader will easily guess how many romantic spots I fixed upon for this purpose; — how frequently I exulted in the thought of boldly preferring such a retirement, (if any obstacles to our union should occur), to all the glare and glitter and false pride of Nicotium Castle ; — but it was time for us to go. 1 believe Mr. Hargrave himself began to suspect that if I staid much longer, I should inevitably become either a fool or a poet : — so at last he rather hurried me away. We took our leave of the lakes at Ullswater, proceeding by Penrith to Carlisle, and from thence by the celebrated Gretna Green, to Glasgow : — we stopped of course to visit the falls of the Clyde in our way, and were highly delighted with them ; — many people, we are told, were curious to see the officiating minister of the Gretna Chapel, but we passed on without this gratification. — I questioned Mr. Hargrave about him, but he cut me short, by saying, " We are all upon a par, in regard to that ceremony : — probably in the course of the year, he does just as much good as harm, and just as much TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 149 harm as good ; which, for what I know, is the case with us all ; — licit or illicit, equal or unequal, public or private, given or stolen, find me the minister that can make all couples happy, and I will go far out of my way to see him ." Thinks-I-to-myself, — my tutor is probably right. In our way through Moffat, we were much enter- tained by the arrival of a large drove of cattle, late in the evening, attended by many drovers with their bag-pipes. This unexpected influx of national mu- sic, seemed to raise the spirits of the inhabitants: — many parties assembled to dance to the sound of these strange but favourite instruments, and more than half of the night was expended before the sound of them ceased to disturb our rest : — though dis- turbed however, the novelty and nationality of it, inclined us freely to forgive them. In consequence of letters Mr. Hargrave received at Moffat, and owing to our long stay at the Lakes, w r e were obliged to hurry through Glasgow, and make the best of our way to Edinburgh, where we arrived safely after rather a long but pleasant journey. It is particularly my design to pass over almost every thing that occurred during our residence here, as not necessary to the history I have under- taken. We received great civilities from many 150 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. eminent persons and distinguished families, in and out of Edinburgh, my letters of introduction being many, and my connections well known. We tra- velled further into Scotland as opportunity occur- red, and the vacations admitted. We visited Aberdeen, and some of the northern lakes : — the Highlands also, some of the Western Isles, and par- ticularly Staffa, with which I was delighted, as so extraordinary and grand a specimen of that singu- lar natural production, the Basaltic pillar. — None of these things do I attempt to describe here; — it is necessary just to touch upon them, because, Thinks-I-to-myself, how shall I otherwise get the reader to consent to skip over two years of my life?— In the correspondence that passed between my family and myself, during my residence at Edin- burgh ; — I heard not much of the neighbourhood of Grumble thorpe. The first letter I had from my sister, announced the death of Mrs. Creepmouse, with all the particulars of her last paralytic seizure, where she was to be buried, &c. Thinks-I-to- myself, — vastly interesting indeed ! I looked in vain for any thing about the Mandevilles, except as far as they were included in the following com- prehensive clause, — " All the neighbours are very THl^KS-l-TO-MYS£LF. 151 anxious in their enquiries after you." — I was wick- ed enough to fancy an erratum ought to have been added, namely, for " are" read " appear ;" for that Mrs. Fidget for instance, or the Miss Fidgets had really made any very anxious enquiries after me, (the idiot, the Clod-pole, the half-starved chim- ney-sweeper,) was, I confess, a matter of much doubt. — Thinks-I-to myself, my dear sister knows little of the world, or she would have written appear at once. I learnt that Miss Twist frequently called there in her rides, and had paid tw r o long visits, since I came away. "I believe," says my sister, in her letter, " You are rather a favourite, for she is continually singing, ' When Delia on the plain appears,' since I told her it was an air of which you were particularly fond." The second letter I had, did, however, mention the Mandevilles: — " You will be sorry to hear," says my mother, " that your old acquaintance, Emily Mandeville, has been long ill ; — her complaint is thought to be nervous; poor Mrs. Mandeville is in much care about her :— the rest are all pretty well." Now in what manner I shall be expected by the reader to have borne this shock, I am not able to say ; for I shall (no doubt) have a vast number of different sorts of readers : — some very sensible souls 9 152 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. perhaps, will think I swooned away immediately ; — some, that I fell hack lifeless, with my eyes fixed, and my mouth wide open ; — some, that I fell a sighing; and some, that I fell a crying ;— some, that I turned sick ; — some, that I opened the win- dow, and was going to precipitate myself from it immediately, but was prevented ; — [N. B. One of the hack windows in the old town of Edinburgh, fifteen stories high,] — some, perhaps, will fancy I ordered a chaise directly, or a horse, or took a place in the mail coach ; they would be all mistaken ; for I only know that I put the letter in my pocket, and, as breakfast was waiting for me, I went directly to Mr. Hargrave ; — he said, u You have a letter from Grumblethorpe, how do they all do ?" — '• Quite well," says I, " and desire to be remembered to you." — As Mr. H. had the newspaper to read, I had no occasion to talk, but I saw him every now and then look very hard at me, and I concluded I had, in a fit of absence, done something strange ; I determined therefore to be more attentive, but no attention would do, for all of a sudden, poor Mr. Hargrave jumped up, two yards I believe from the ground. — " Zounds ! M says he, " Mr. Dermont, what is all this ?" Poor man, he had great reason to complain, for in filling the tea-pot I had totally TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 153 forgotten to turn back the cock of the urn, and there being an unfortunate breach on the side of the parapet of the tea-board, the over-flowings of the hot water found vent there, descending regular- ly, but very rapidly, in a grand parabola, directly upon his breeches below ; luckily the scalding qua- lity of the water was somewhat abated, as the breakfast was nearly over, but it was quite hot enough fully to justify the extraordinary altitude of the jump he took from his seat, as well as the hor- rible word that issued from his reverend mouth : had it been a little hotter, or had it happened a little sooner, it would have killed him. — As it was, the sop he was in, and * he fright he had suffered, justly deserved to be classed among the miseries of the tea-table. I Now if any body should be at all disposed to fancy that this accident was connected with the passage with my mother's letter, they are welcome to think so : — I found afterwards from Mr. Har- grave, that he had judged me to be going mad be- fore, for that I had twice, as near as could be, when my cup was empty, made his cup my slop-bason, and successively bit one great mouthful out of six pieces of toast, without once eating the remainder, which, of course, lay littered about the table. 154 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. Before I had quite recollected myself, I retired again to my chamber, telling Mr. Hargrave, I must answer my letter by return of the Post ; — he said if that was the case, he shdild walk to Leith, so that I got all the morning to myself : — I took my pen and immediately began, — " My dear Mother ;" after looking at these three parts of speech, for a quarter of an hour, I took another sheet and be- gan, — " My dear Sister" and then I looked at these three words as I had done at the other, for a second quarter of an hour : — at last I took a third sheet, and began, — " My dear Father:" — Thinks- I-to-myself if I tell him all about it, perhaps I shall get leave to write to Emily herself: — but I kept looking at these three words longer than ever, with- out being able to stir a step further : — then I thought what if I boldly write to the dear girl herself at once, in verse ! tender verse ? — Who knows but it may recover her, if she pines for my absence, which I could not help fancying, or forbear hoping, was the exact cause of her malady : — I took therefore a longer sheet of paper, what they c&llfoolswjyj^ Thinks-I-to-myself, afterwards, a mighty proper name!— I had always a knack at writing verses from a child, but now my Muse seemed to be most desperately unkind ; — I walked up and down the THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 155 room, I verily think, for two hours together, at the very least, and as the reader perhaps might wish to see a specimen of the fruits of my prolific brain at the end of these two hours, he or she shall have a correct copy of the whole. — ^^/^^ \ This is a faithful draft of the fond effusion of my overflowing heart, in which my readers may (if they study it close) discern, that in the whole two hours, I had not accomplished any thing like a beginnings I had invented by much straining, about ten dif- ferent apostrophes to stand at the head of my epistle, 156 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. but not one would do ; — the blots at the bottom, — drawn out into some resemblance of a spider and an old man's head, shew the workings of my fan- cy, while my muse was in labour. Luckily for me, before I had quite and entirely lost my w 7 its, Mr. H., driven back by bad w T eather, returned to the lodgings, and coming up to my room, begged of me if I had not sealed my letter, to tell my mother that he had procured for my sis- ter the music she wished to have, and w r ould send it by the first opportunity : — this gave my mind relief directly, I sat down, began another letter, as before, — " My dear mother/' and scribbled on without once stopping till I got to the end of the paper : — all the obstacles were overcome the mo- ment Mr. H. gave me something for a beginnings and I very fairly inserted in my letter the following clause, in plain, sensible, unsophisticated language : — " I am extremely sorry to hear Miss Mandeville is so unwell; pray, when you write next mention how she is." — I was quite astonished to see with what ease I wrote it, and how much the best way it appeared, of expressing my anxiety. — It seemed quite to revive my heart, and I joined Mr. Har- grave, after finishing my letter, with my spirits quite exhilarated. I kept the daubed sheet of THIN'KS-I-TO-MYSELF. 15? foolscap, thinking if ever I saw poor Emily again, I would certainly give it her, as a proof of the folly and madness of my passion for her. It was nearly three weeks from this time before I heard again from Grumblethorpe. — At length came a long letter from my mother, which I opened wide, and turned and twisted about, but without seeing the name I wanted. — I read it: — it con- tained thanks to Mr. H. ;- — a long account of a con- cert at the Twists, at which my company was much desired ; — many directions to take care of myself, and to remember that the North was bleaker than the South, My hopes seemed to be at an end ; — I felt like a person listening to the reading of a will, by which he had expected to have inherited a large fortune, but without hearing so much as his name mentioned : — at length just as I was going to put it in my pocket, I spied something written on each side of the vacancy that had been left for the seal. — It was just as though my fortune was at last made, by the discovery and operation of a twentieth codicil ; — for lo ! and behold, there it was, written in small characters indeed, but de- lightfully legible : — " I had almost forgotten to tell you, that your old play-fellow, Emily Mandeville, is thought to be better. — I read to her the part of 158 THINKS-I-TO-MYJSELF. youj* letter in which you enquired after her, and she desired me to say you were very good to think of her at so great a distance." Thinks- I-to-my self t distance indeed ! I kissed the letter over and over again ; — put it in my pocket and took it out again ; — opened it, read it, put it up again ; — opened it again and read it ; — opened my waistcoat, and laid it upon my heart while it was bumping, — and at night, I slept with it under my pillow. Now every thing had become easy to me. I had only to pray that she might not get well :— as long as she con- tinued ill, I found I could ask after her, express my concern for her, get my letters read to her, and even receive messages from her in return. I was now as happy as a lark, and had I had wings, could have soared as high in the sun-shine, whistling and singing all the way up to Heaven, my thoughts were so full of my old play-fellow, (as my mother called her,) that it was a great mercy I did not do Mr. Hargrave some serious mischief; — either by scalding him to death at breakfast, cutting off his head with the carving-knife at dinner, or burn- ing him in his bed at night, by sitting up to read my mother's postscript over and over again. Luckily he did all he could to cool my passion ; — for though it w T as in the depth of winter, he THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 159 chose the very next day to set off upon an excur- sion to Aberdeen ; — on one day of our journey we were overtaken by a dismal fall of snow : — as Mr. H. was not very well, he stopped at a house we came to just as it began, while I went forward to the Inn ; he told me he would follow me when it ceased, but that if it continued, he would join me the next day. I rode on, and at length was compelled to stop at a most dreary inn, (if inn it could be called,) just on the skirts of a wide heath, which I did not dare to pass, as the road was totally obliterated. I therefore dismounted, and being blessed with mo- ney enough to command all the accommodations the house could supply, I got a roaring fire, and plenty of eggs and bacon, &c. for my early dinner ; —but I confess, when I saw the snow continue to fall, and reflected that I was separated from my companion, and had nothing to amuse me and en- gage my attention, but the dismal expanse of heath before my window, my spirits began to flao-; — I begged a book to read, but what was rather surprising in Scotland, they had but one in the house, and that had been left there by a traveller ; —I greedily caught at it when it arrived, but alas ! it w T as but a small comfort :— I wonder what the 160 TftlNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. reader would guess it to be : — perhaps a volume of Shakspeare, or Ossian; perhaps Chevy Chace, or the Battle of Flodden Field, or Marmion! No, none of these, I can assure him: — perhaps the Spectator or Guardian, or the History of Mary, Queen of Scots ; — no, none of these, but a plain and unadorned edition of the London Directory J J in which the exits and entrances of all the coaches and waggons, out of and into the metropolis, in the course and compass of every week, with every inn they put up at and depart from, were most charmingly registered, and all the information com- municated that could be given upon topics so highly interesting ! My despair was now complete. — Thinks-I-to- myself, I shall certainly die of the vapours. I sat at the window till my heart quite ached. I had not long before been reading Bunt's Winter Night, nor was it possible to forget Thomson's beautiful but dismal description of the poor lost cottager. ThinlxS-I-to-myself, as I cast my eyes over the heath, just ivhat follows, which you may call a poem if you please. If it had fourteen lines it might perhaps pass for a Sonnet \ — how it came into any shape but that of a soliloquy, I should be puzzled to tell you. THJNKS-I-TO-MYSEJ.F. Ifil THE SNOW STORM. Stay thy forebodings, busy busy Mind ! Why need^st thou feel the bitter blasts that blow ? Why need'st thou shudder at the Winter's wind. The petrifying frost and driving snow? Do not for thee reviving embers glow? Is not for thee the ready table spread? Does not for thee the horn cf plenty flow 1 ? Thuii art no beggar of thy daily bread ! II. Yet thou sitt'st trembling o'er thy brooding- thought, As if thou wert unsh-jlter'd and forlorn ; Shudd'ring at scenes of woe, all fancy -wrought ; Some shiv'ring soul to luckless fortune bom, From weeping wife, and famished children torn, 'Wildered and lost in trackless depths of snow! At such self-painted prospects must thou mourn? Must the sigh heave, and tear of sorrow flow? 1IL. It is perhaps full human so to do, For, what were life, if pity took her flight? It is full well to feel for other's woe, Yet let -thy /«*'//« persuade thee " all is right!" M 162 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. The wretch that sinks may rise from his dark night, To brighter scenes of bliss that shall not cease ; Meet his fond friends in realms of endless light, Perpetual sunshine, and perpetual peace ! I think they are tolerably pretty and pathetic for a Clod-pole ; — but of this you may be well as- sured, gentle reader, that you will not find one fault in them, of which I am not myself aware, only I leave them to your civility and feeling, ra- ther than stop to amend them, as they were writ- ten so long ago. The next day Mr. Hargrave joined me; — if I were to tell you what happened to him at the place he put up at, it would make both your ears to tin- gle, and you would certainly split your sides with laughing ; — but you see I have got to go to Aber- deen to night, if possible, and so cannot stop to tell it you ; none of you can expect that I should, who know how precious a thing time is : — we made the best of our way to Aberdeen, after we had got together again, though at no small risk of being lost from the drifting of the snow. Mr. Hargrave was well known to one of the pro- fessors at Aberdeen, who received us most civilly. We staid there but a very short time. While we were there, Mr. H. intimated, that the journey was TH1NTCS-I-TO-MYSKI/F. 163 undertaken solely on my father's account and mine, though he would not explain himself farther, I learnt the whole history of it afterwards : — nothing very particular occurred at Aberdeen, (the account of the place itself may be found elsewhere,) nor upon our return to Edinburgh, When I got back to the latter place, I found another letter from Grumblethorpe, written very soon after the former: —all it said of Miss Mandeville, was, c * they are aH well at the Vicarage; — Emily gets better daily." I know not whether the reader will have taken any pains to calculate, how long I have been at Edinburgh. I have looked a little over the fore- going pages to see if I could make out, but I must confess, it seems to me to be rather a mystery : — I wish it to be so, and that's the truth ; because, as I know r I shall be made responsible for. all these things, if my book falls into the hands of any of those catchpoles the Reviewers, I wish to do things decently at least, and not fall into any violent anachronism or breach of consistency. I want to have been at Edinburgh two years, and to be supposed to have studied hard, and to have become a proficient in Mathematics, Jurisprudence^ Chemistry, Anatomy, Nosology, Botain/, &e< and I m 2 164 THINK S-I-TO-MYSELF. am not sure that I have taken quite time enough for all this : — it seems somewhat strange to me, but it looks, I must confess, as if I had not received above three or four letters from home, during the whole two years, which would be preposterous; — however, upon examining the bundle I have got, I find that this is a mere deception. In fact, I received many from my sister and father that I have not men- tioned. I have merely noticed those that had any thing in them concerning my dear, dear, dear, dear dea, de, d r r r r r r Emily ! ! ! ! The time came in short, (for time will come, whether we will or no,) for our return into the south of Britain. Mr. Hargrave began to call in his accounts, and I saw 7 plainly that we were be- ginning to depart : — w r e had large packages to send away of fossils and other natural curiosities, for the whole of Scotland abounds in such things, and w 7 e had meddled with them pretty much. — They w r ere not mere baubles, or cabinet specimens, that we sent home ; — we had collected abundance of things illustrative of different theories of the earth. We were neither of us disposed to become Huttonians, and that is all I wish to say upon that subject at present. On the eighteenth of March, one thousand seven hundred and blank, (for I don't w r ish to let vou too TI1INKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 1G5 deeply into the secret,) we took our leave of Edin- burgh, journeying home eastward, as we had en- tered it westerly : — we stopped at Dunbar to see the Basaltic columns there, which are certainly ex- tremely curious. We passed one day at " our town of Berwick on Tweed," as the Briefs say. We visited the Holy Island also, (but heard no tolling of the midnight bell,) and proceeded on to New- castle, after visiting Alnwick Castle, the seat of his Grace of Northumberland : — the figures upon the top of the Castle, in the act, as it were, of sustain- ing a siege, amused me much ; — perhaps they are all removed or decayed before this. At Newcastle we visited the collieries, and de- scended in their mine-buckets, (or baskets rather.) We stopped a whole day at Durham : — I believed Mr. Hargrave wished to examine into the circum- stances of that great prize in the Ecclesiastical Lottery ; — not with any expectation of it, for though no man could be more worthy of it, yet undoubtedly no man could be less covetous or ambitious, but by way of seeing w T hat he might have attained to in his profession, had he been less worthy or more covetous, or more ambitious : — Nota bene, however, that just as I am writing this, that See happens to be in the hands of a most munificent Prelate, and I 166 THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELL wish it may never be in worse hands , — for, Thinks- 1'to-myself, ft He that does good with his money and pelf, Is a help to his neighbour as well as himself." From Durham, we went regularly on upon the great London road. Mr. Hargrave had promised to see me safe home, otherwise we should have parted in Lincolnshire, where we first met. As I got nearer and nearer to Grumblethorpe, I will leave any one to guess how my heart felt. It did not bump for Emily Mandeville only, it bumped for my excellent father, my dear and invaluable mo- ther, and my sister, whom I loved like myself. Mr. Hargrave himself felt delighted at the thoughts of seeing Grumblethorpe again, for nothing I believe could possibly exceed his regard, respect, and vene- ration for my father and mother. The driver, whom we took from the last stage, had never been at Grumblethorpe Hall before, so that instead of going straight as he should have done, to the end of the avenue,, he managed to make for an entrance of the park, which inevitably carried us past the Vicarage, by a road seldom travelled. The novelty of a carriage coming that way, naturally drew all the family to the window, and I had the TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 167 pleasure of beholding the whole groupe, as I sup- posed, for I could not quite distinguish them : — I would have given the world to have got out, but I felt it to be little less than sacrilege to deprive my good father and mother and sister of the first greet- ings : — I therefore contented myself with only kiss- ing my hand over and over again to them, and passed on. — We at length drove up to the very steps of the Hall ; — immediately the doors flew open, and there stood my father, mother, sister, and many old servants ready to receive us. I ran into their arms, and was for some time quite overcome with the affectionate and sincere caresses I received. Mr. Hargrave demanded much of their attention, and helped of course to disembarrass matters ; — in short, we were at last safely landed at the Hall again ; — the trees I had wished good-bye to, stood where they did ; — the posts and the palings also ; — but probably all the geese and turkies that I had envied so much, as I parted from them two years before, had been killed and eaten, so that upon the whole, I was by far the best off after all : — all envy probably is of the same nature, and equally ill-founded. We had, of course* a long list of enquiries to an- swer, nor had I few to make. I found that the 168 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. neighbourhood in general remained as it was, only that Mrs. Creepmouse was dead, as I have men- tioned, and Miss Fidget had gone off with the foot- man ;— the lovely, fine, puny, sickly, troublesome boy was gone to school, and Miss Charleville, with whom I partly fell in love, as I have described, was married to the Earl of Fitz- Arlington. The next morning, many messages of enquiry were sent, to know how Mr. Robert Dcrmont did, &c. and the next morning to that, I had the honour of receiving many visits ; for now I was no longer regarded as a boy. I was the heir-apparent to the Hall, come to years of tolerable discretion : — perhaps the reader will wonder whether I have been to the Vicarage yet ; — actually not ! I was close to it, and I felt that to be almost enough ; — sooner than precipitate matters, I chose to stay away. I even visited Nicotium Castle first; — if any body takes this for indifference, they are fools. — I say it without scruple. — They know nothing of the strange inconsistencies and mysteries of love. They were all extremely glad to see me at Nicotium Castle, but to say they were highly delighted might exceed the truth : — Miss Twist bestowed upon me nothing warmer than a few bob curtsies, and Mrs. Twist was more formal than familiar : — nevertheless THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELF. 169 I saw plainly, with only half an eye, as the saying is, that Nicotium Castle was mine if I chose to ask for it. After visiting Nicotium Castle, my father him- self proposed going to the Vicarage: — he little thought what was the state of my poor heart. — We rode there, therefore, and found them all at home, except Mr. Mandeville : — Emily, I thought looked shockingly, but she seemed heartily glad to see me, only ashamed to shew it; — w r e behaved to each other as shyly as possible : — we just shook hands, and that was all. — I said I was glad to see her bet- ter; Mrs. Mandeville observed, that she had been very ill indeed, and had I spoken my mind honestly, I ought to have said that I was very glad of it, for so I really was on many accounts;— had she con- tinued in rude health and high spirits all the while I had been absent, my love probably might have abated, but as it was, I felt more than ever attached to her, because she had been ill, and because she looked ill. — What a monstrous strange complaint love is ! Miss Twist had been as well as possible all the while ; I don't think she had even a cold or a cough, nor had her spirits once changed ; she had talked about me, I believe, and sung Delia, and 170 THINKS-I-TO MYSELF. thought often probably about my Coronet, but had any news arrived of the Coronet's having flown away, I very much question whether Delia would ever have been sung again : — however, I must not be too severe, for I verily believe, had Nicotium Castle flown away, or Miss Grizilda been disin- herited, my good father would have thought nothing about her; — she was certainly not altogether a favourite. Mr. Hargrave surprised me very much one morn- ing, by letting me into a secret of which I had be- fore no suspicion at all, namely, that in my absence, my sister Caroline had had an offer from Captain Charleville, and that it was likely to become a match. I was heartily rejoiced at this news, be- cause the family was truly amiable, and I was very certain that my sister was not likely to have fallen in love merely with his Peerage and Coronet, which I too justly suspected to be the case with Mis& Twist. My father and Mr. Hargrave, of course, passed much of their time together, and I suppose my fu- ture fortunes and destinies occupied much, if not most, of their attention. I managed as I could to visit the Vicarage, which was seldom : nor (had I had ever so good an opportunity) did I feel suffi- THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 171 ciently at liberty to avow my attachment openly. 1 certainly often looked and sighed and sighed and looked, in a way that must have excited great sus- picions, and I am doubtful whether I was always sufficiently careful to avoid pressing her hand, and saying what some people call w soft things'' to her. In the mean time, the communications with Ni- cotium Castle were frequent ; — they were continu- ally coming to us, and we going to them ; — in all our evening amusements, Miss Twist and myself seemed by some fatal circumstance or other to be brought together ; — if we played at cards, we were always placed next to each other ; — if we danced, she w r as to be my partner ; — if there was music, she sung Delia, and He that " would approach but dare not ?nove" was sure to be me ; — if we played at forfeits, we were doomed to go behind the curtain together, — and if we played at consequences, we were sure to meet in a wood, and the end was kissing. — All these things produced remarks, and insinuations, and suspicions, and reports, and. expectations, so that I doubt not many thought the ring w r as bought, and a special licence sent for, and Nicotium Castle thoroughly- settled upon me and my heirs, whereas never had my consent been in any manner whatsoever thought of — they were all reckoning without their host. 172 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. But one day, contrary to all my expectations, I was put into a considerable fright ; for who should attack me, but my dear friend, Mr. Hargrave. As we were walking together one day, towards the memorable Twist stile, he began upon the subject : ■ — says he, " How happy am I to think that your sister is likely to marry so well : — what a comfort will it be to your worthy father and mother to see her not only so well settled, but united to so near and so respectable a neighbour : — the marriage of a daughter is a matter of extreme anxiety, what then must be the marriage and settlement of an only son, heir to the whole paternal inheritance ? Upon your choice, in this particular, my dear young friend, must depend far more than your own happiness, — the honour and happiness of those now alive, and by reflection, the honour at least of that long list of progenitors, from whom you are likely to inherit title and dignity : — in your choice, one thing seems chiefly to be considered : — to degrade yourself by a connection every way beneath you, would be base indeed ; — to be particular about family, seems un- necessary; — your own being already sufficiently conspicuous, fortune then is the thing that seems the most to be attended to ;. riches tend to break down many distinctions, and why should the great THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 173 be backward to assist in ennobling those who may- be willing to enrich them ?" — I surely thought the whole business was coming out, and at this moment I dare say the reader expects the same, — but no such thing ; — he soon after ended his discourse, by saying, " Therefore, my good friend, w r hen you be- gin to look out for a wife, think of these things/' " My dear Sir," says I, taking up the conversa- tion, " suffer me to make one remark : — if every man was to be supposed to be equally at liberty, de- liberately to look out, as you call it, for that accom- modation called a icife, I might promise to obey your injunctions, but I have heard that some peo- ple come pop upon a wife before they are aware of it, without any " looking out" at all : — that some people have been known to marry for neither honour nor riches, and to be unable to do otherwise, spite of their teeth : — you seem to me, my dear Sir, to have proposed but tico cases to my consideration ; — first, to look out for a wife when necessary, and next, to make such a choice as may help to enrich myself, while I ennoble my elect : — now what am I to do, if I find a wife without looking out for one, and she should happen to be poor, — is it quite forbidden me to take a wife that I find by accident, be she never so good, or if I feel disposed to it, to ennoble 174 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. the unendowed? — I am not talking of persons in every way below me, which to many, as you say, would be base indeed, — but what am I to do, if while I am ( looking out/ with all my eyes for a rich heiress of low degree to raise and ennoble, the twentieth child of some poor gentleman should come in my way, endowed with every virtue under the sun?" — Mr. Hargrave had no idea that I meant any thing serious, I believe, so that he only laughed at my method of parrying his attack, — We soon after returned to the Hall, where the Twists were engaged to dine with us, in a snug sort of way. They came a little before five.— -I had as usual to sit next to Miss Twist, and to bear as well as I could, many jokes, hints, insinuations, &c. as well as many plain advances on the part of the young lady, not at all in the way of love and regard, but of affectation and vanity, as though presuming upon the irresistibility of her three hundred thousand charms. Unfortunately, (that is, I mean, for three such terrible noodles as my father, Mr. Hargrave, and myself, who were no amateurs in the art of boxing,) just as the ladies had retired, my father happened to ask Mr. Twist, what had carried him to London in such extreme haste five days ago? for as we THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 175 were going to church on the preceding Sunday, he had passed us in his chaise and four, as if he had been on an errand of life and death: — <{ O," says he, " I went to be present at the famous match between Bob Gubbins and Big Beelzebub, — I had a bet with Lord , of seven to four upon Bob. — It was a tight battle, I assure you: — Bob had the best of it for seventeen rounds at the least, and would certainly have bet, only Big Beelzebub hap- pened to put in such a confounded hit under his left jaw, just as he was returning to the eighteenth rally, that knocked him over and over, and I verily thought that all the sport would be at an end, and that he must have died on the spot : — it was noble sparring till then ; — I never saw Bob fight better : — Big Beelzebub, at one time, bled at every chan- nel, — nose, mouth, eyes, ears, neck, shoulder, back, breast ; — it would have done your heart good to have seen it." Tfwiks-I-to-myself, my Father's heart, indeed ! " The first round," continued Mr. Twist, u both sparred with great caution ; Bob began with a neat right handed hit, which being smartly returned, they fell to :— Bob seemed to give way at first, but in a short time, rallied and threw such a devil of a parcel of straight blows into Beelzebub's throat 176 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, and breast, that his mouth burst out with blood, and down he fell ; — so that to my great joy, the first blood and first fall were both completely in Bob's favour :— Big Beelzebub rose weak and sick- ish ; — Bob threw several blows away by round hit- ting, but at length overset Big Beelzebub again by one of the sharpest right-hand facers I ever saw : —Big Beelzebub rallied, and put in a tight blow T on Bob's mouth, which broke two of his grinders, but he kept his ground, and again threw his opponent, after boring him all round the ring. — I am con- fident Bob would have got the best of it, but for his last unlucky fall : — but I'll tell you what ;-*- you may depend upon it, if he don't die (which it is ten chances to one but he does) and Big Beelze- bub ever recovers his sight, (which is at present thought impossible,) I will make another match between them as soon as I can, and shall have no scruple to take the same bets on Bob ; for I never saw a fellow throw in his blows better in my life, than my friend Bob did, or do more to cripple his man : — I'll be bound he'll completely do him next time." Unluckily, the effect this delicate and delicious display of Mr. Twist's eloquence had upon my father, Mr. Hargrave, and myself, was to make us completely silent, not only during the whole of its THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 17/ continuance, but when he had got fairly to an end, so that before we could recover from the state of disgust (and sickness almost) into which he had thrown us, he abruptly turned aside to a fresh topic little less interesting " But, only think," says he, <( Mr. Dermont, of poor Tom DashT — "What of him?" says my father; " Shot himself !" says Mr. Twist :— " I had not heard a word of it," says my father ; — " It must be him" says Mr. Twist ; and pulling a news- paper from his pocket, — " Here," says he, " is the only public account Lhave seen of it ;" — " It is with extreme concern" " Aye, well they may say so, indeed ; poor Tom ! a better whip did not exist ; such a stud of horses !!" — •* It is with extreme con- cern we hear, thai a Gentleman very celebrated in the sporting world, (aye, celebrated he was indeed, the finest and boldest rider you ever saw, and such a shot!) put an end to his existence yesterday at an inn not very distant from the metropolis : — aye, at Salt-hill ; he was a member of the Whip Club ; four beautiful roans he used to drive, so steady in harness, he was one of the best whips among them ; — " but," says my father, 4i how do you know it was him, his name is not mentioned ?" — O, but I have it here in a private letter from a friend" says N 178 THI^KS-1-TOMYSEi.F. Mr. Twist, pulling one from his pocket, of such a shape and colour as I scarcely ever saw before ; — it is from Sir Harry Hark-away's huntsman, with whom I occasionally correspond ; — here, at the bot- tom of his letter, he says, — "■ I suppose your Hon- ner will have heered of pure Muster Dash!! (Mus- ter Dash, he writes, for he can't spell very well, and indeed I can scarce read his writing;) — I sup- pope you will have heered of pure Muster Dash! what a Moll and Colly event has be, be, be, be," — the Devil, the fellow writes such a hand, I can't really read it, " he-ivappered him/' I think it is ; " perhaps/' says my father, " he-fallen him?" — " O, aye, be-fallen him/' says Mr. Twist, u so it is :— What a Moll and Colly event has befallen him at Salt Hill ! — Aye, that's the place you see exactly , — an inn not very distant from the Metropo- lis— there he shot himself, certainly :" — " But why shot himself?" says my father ; " I don't see that you have learnt that yet ;" — " What do you think he'd hang himself," says Mr. Twist, hastily, " like a scoundrel, or go through the tedious ceremony of poisoning himself? If his existence is terminated, as I too much fear, depend upon it, it was by a bullet, and from his own hand ;• — Tom was not a bungler — I wonder, what will become of his stud; — I THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 179 should like to have his roans myself; — when I was a member of the Leicester hunt, he used to ride a famous colt of Eclypse's, so like, that O'Kelly him- self offered 400 guineas for it, merely on account of its likeness ; — not a hair different : — if you had but seen that horse take a leap ; — it was quite a grand sight ; so cool, so steady ; a child might have rode him !— he used to rise and look round, as it were, to see if there were any stakes or bad ground on the other side, and whatever there might be, he w 7 as sure to clear it. — I never shall forget a run we had one thirteenth of November ; — bitter cold morn- ing ; long time before w r e found : — we were sitting on our horses together, under a wood, and I pulled out a hunting flask I had full of brandy, that I would not have lost for the w r orld ;— just as poor Tom had got it to his mouth to drink, they un- kennelled the fox ;— instead of returning my poor bottle into my possession, he threw it from him into the thickest part of the wood behind him, and off he went ; — I never got near him again the w 7 hole day : — the horse was fitter for a race-horse, but he would not run him, except for the hunter's plate once at Ascot, where he won hollow : — poor Tom ! well, it's w r ell he came to no worse end ! he was as near hanged once as could be ;" — " How so?" n 2 180 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. says Mr. Hargrave. — " Why the case you see," says Mr. Twist, " was exactly this : — I had it from one that was there : — At a Tavern dinner at Liver pool one day, Tom being in the chair, proposed a profane toast;— the man that sat next to him re- fused to drink it ; — Tom insisted ;— the man would not 5 he declared he would not only not drink it, but if he knew the inventor of it, he should be dis- posed to chastise him : — i( Not if it were me, my- self, Sir," says Tom, " I suppose ?" (for in fact it was his own invention) ; — " Yes, Sir," says the other, " if it were you yourself, you,- — upon which,, Tom, who had plenty of pepper in his blood, threw a glass of wine plump in his face ; — you may be pretty sure it was not easy to hush such a matter up ; — pistols were procured by the friends of each party, and they went out immediately; — at the very first fire, Tom's ball passed through his heart, and he dropped just as dead as a pancake. — Tom made off, as you may suppose, and it was well he did, for the fellow he killed was much beloved, and \vas well connected, and had a wife and nine chil- dren, so that you may easily think it made a pretty dust : — Tom got abroad some how or other, and there he staid till all the proceedings against him were supposed to be at an end, but as he certainly TH1MKS-I-TO-MYSKLF. 181 gave great provocation, had he been caught and tried, before some illiberal old woman of a Judge, he would certainly have been hanged." Thinks-I- to-myself hanging would have been a thousand times too good for him. " But, pray," says my father, " how can you call it a better end than he is come to now, if it should be true that he has shot himself V — " He could not possibly, my dear Sir," says Mr. Twist, " have done a better deed ; — he was completely dished i — he could never have appeared again ;— the rest of his days must, probably, have been passed in the King's Bench :" — " I don't quite know, Twist," says my father, " what you mean by dished, but I should just wish to ask, where you think the rest of his days will be passed now ?" — " O," says Mr. Twist, *' faith, I never thought of that; my neighbour here, Mr. Hargrave, perhaps, would an- swer that better than me, but poor Tom, I must confess, I believe, did not much think of passing his time any where but here, and when he was tired of it, he made his bow, and away he went ;" — " and left," says my father, " all his brother whips to fol- low, I suppose ;" — " follow where!" says Mr. Twist. — " I don't know," says my father, " but not I think where they used to follow him, which was 182 THINKS-1-TQ-MYSELF. generally, I apprehend, to the stable ;" — " aye, often, indeed," says Mr. Twist, " they did ; it would have done your heart good to have seen the style in which he kept his horses :" — " Well," says my father, " I am glad of that for the sake of the poor horses, for, for what I know, they might be very sensible and worthy horses, and deserve to be pam- pered and high fed;" — " they did, indeed/' says Mr, Twist, not at all seeing the drift of the insinua- tion., " Well," says my father, " but what do you really think Tom Dash will ever do in a world without horses, or stables, or tvhips, or hounds, or birds, or guns ?" — " I don't think he'll go there," says Mr. Twist : — " hold," says my father, " re- member Twist, he must go, if he's called, and he can't shoot himself out of the other world as he has shot himself out of this ;■" — " that I can't tell," says Mr. Twist : — " but surely," says my father, u you can't think he will have that power;" — ** I tell you," says Mr. Twist, " I don't know, but of this I am very cer- tain, that he had power to go out of this world when he chose, and he made use of it." — " It seems to be just as you say," says my father, " and yet I much ques- tion the truth of it."— " How so," says Mr. Twist, " what didn't he shoot himself?" " Oh ! 1 don't THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 183 deny that/' — says my father, " but I much doubt whether he can be fairly said to have had poiver to doit:— you, yourself, could certainly shoot me at this moment if you chose it, but do you think the Law has given you power to do it ? Do you think you could safely do it, without any chance of an after-reckoning?" " O, O," says Mr. Twist* " I smoke you now ; — you think suicide not lawful /" — i " I do/' says my father ; " can you think other- wise ?»_« To be sure/' says Mr. Twist, " and it is but fair, that as we came into this w r orld with- out our own consent, we should not be compelled to stay in it if we don't like it ;"— <( that's very good indeed/' says my father, " so I suppose you think when a culprit is put upon his trial, because he is brought to the bar against his own consent* he may quit the court at his own discretion, and not wait for the sentence of removal." " I'll tell you what," says Mr. Twist, " I am no Parliament man, (I was going to say no Parson, but I would not for the world be rude to Mr. Har- grave here,) but I say I am no Parliament man, or Speechifier, and therefore I cannot undertake to argue the point with you, but I have at home, a Poem, written I do suppose by one of the cleverest 184 THIN1CS-I-TO-MYSELF. chaps in Christendom, where the business is proved to a nicety : it begins, " Averse from Life, nor well resolved to die" — " [ wish I could repeat it, but Fll give it to my friend Bob here, to-morrow, and he shall read it to you ;«— if you can answer that, then I will be ready to confess that poor Tom Dash had better have staid where he was ;" — " you had bet- ter," says my father, " give it to Bob, for if you give it to me, fifty to one but I put it in the fire j M — H I w 7 ould not part with it for the world," says Mr. Twist, " so don't play tricks with it, I only say, answer it." My father begged he would send it ;• — t( it will surely be pleasant," says he, " to any of us, nay, an extreme happiness, to learn that we may shoot ourselves whenever we please ; only 'till I see the Poem, be assured, Twist, that I won't believe we possess any such power or privilege ; — no,, not if ten thousand Tom Dashes were to shoot themselves before my face." — Just at this moment a summons to tea arrived, and we arose to go to the drawing- room. My father, I really believe, felt glad to have inveigled Mr. Twist, as it were, into an argument of this sort, hoping in time to be able to open his TlilNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 185 eyes a little to the extreme folly, worthlessness, and absurdity of the life led by himself, and too many of his acquaintance. After tea, we had Delia, which made, I sup- pose, its usual impressions upon us both ; — that is, it made Miss Twist think of me, and me of Emily Mandeville ; I confess I could not help thinking more than ever of the latter. Thinks-I-to-myself, surely, nothing can render it very decorous in me to ennoble the daughter of a stable-keeper, a groom, a huntsman, the friend of murderers and suicides; The next day the Poem came, directed to the reader's most humble servant, that is, to me, the elod-pole, and fitly enough ; for, Thinks-I-to-my- self, Mr. Twist surely fancies I shall never consent to marry his daughter unless I have free leave from God and man, to quit the world at any time afterwards that I please ! Upon running my eye over the poem, I began to think it might be quite safe in Mr. Twist's hands, for it seemed to me much above both the extent of his comprehension, and the measure of his taste ; — the lines were nervous, strong, and ap- parently from the hand of a master : — I carried them to my father, he read them very attentively : — " Have you read them ?" says he. — " I have, Sir," s&ys I :—" Do you like them ?" says my 186 TH1NKS-I-T0-MYSELF. father. — " I think the lines are certainly strong, and the poetry good ;" — '* but the argument" says my father, — " I should wish, Sir, to consider it more," says I ; — " do, my boy," says my father, " and mind put down upon any scrap of paper, your objections as you go along, if any occur." I took the poem from him, and, as was gene- rally the case, when I wanted to consider things with particular attention, I walked into the park with the poem in my pocket ; — when there, I pe- rused it again carefully ; noted my objections with a pencil, as my father had desired, and was going to return, when, Thinks-I-to-myself 9 why not an- swer it in verse ? — I retired into a more secluded part of the park, and taking stanza by stanza, went through the whole, 'till I had written a regu- lar reply. I carried it in haste to my father, and he ran with it eagerly to Mr. Hargrave ; as they both ap- proved of it, I wrote it out fair, and as they seemed to think it a proper reply to a mischievous poem, which, for what I know, may still be travelling about the world alone, as was the case when it came into my hands, I shall here present the reader with the companion I ventured to provide for \t x sincerely hoping that no Tom Dash will hencefor- TlUNKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 187 ward shoot himself, 'till he has carefully read both : — as for the poetry of the latter, I care not a fig about it ; I can only assert, which I do most posi- tively, that the argument it contains will for ever prevent my Tom Dashing my own brains out, yea, though I should happen to be wedded to such another as Miss Twist. 188 TH1NKS-1-TO-MYSELF. THE SUICIDE. Averse from Life, nor well resolv'd to die, Us'd but to murmur I retain my breath ; Yet pant, enlarg'd from this dull world to try The hospitable though cold arms of death. What future joys should bid me wish to live? What flatt'ring dreams of better days remain? What prospect can obscure existence give, A recompense for penury and pain ? Is there an hope that o'er thisunton'd frame, Awakened Health her wonted glow shall spread ? Is there a path to pleasure, wealth or fame, Which sickness, languor, and remorse can tread ? Why therefore should I doubt, what should I fear? Why for a moment longer bear my grief ? Behold ! — my great Deliverer is near, — Immediate as I wish his prompt relief. Oh ! Instance strange of free but blinded will, Discuss'd so much, so little understood ; To bear the certainty of present ill, Before the certain chance of ill or good ; But what that chance !— Why be it what it may, Still 'tis a chance,— and here my woes are sure ? — " Yet think these woes are sorrows of a day, While those to all eternity endure!" THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 189 Think of the horrors of eternal pain ; " Imagination startles at the name ; Nor can impress upon the labouring brain, Duration endless still, and still the same." — Well hast thou said ; — nor can it be impress'd — Has blind credulity, that abject slave, Who thinks his nothingness, for ever bless'd. Shall hold eternal triumph o'er the grave? When oceans cease to roll, recks melt away, Atlas and iEtna sink into the plain ; The glorious Sun, the elements decay, Shall Man, Creation's flimsiest work remain ? What shall remain of Man? His outward frame ? Soon shall that moulder to its native dust ! Or haply that unbodied subtle flame, Which occupies and animates the bust? Let but a finger ache, the kindred Soul, Its intimate alliance shall perceive ; Let ultimate destruction grasp the whole, The Soul immortal and unchang'd shall live? Stop but one conduit, and the tone is lost, Bat, burst each pipe, and tear up every key; Then shall the decompounded Organ's ghost, Swell the loud peal of endless harmony? So shall that quality whose pow'rs arise From various parts by nicest art arrang'd ; With every shock the} r suffer, sympathize, Yet after their destruction live unchang'd. 190 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. So much for argument, the Legends vain Of Priestly craft, reach not th' ingenuous mind ; Let knaves invent and folly will maintain, The wildest system that deludes mankind. Did there exist the very Hell they paint, Were there the very Heav'n they desire j 'Twere hard to choose, a Devil or a Saint, Eternal Sing-Song, or Eternal Fire. Ye idle Hopes of future joys, farewell ! Farewell ye groundless fears of future woe 1 . Lo ! the sole argument on which to dwell, Shall I, or shall I not, this life forego? I know the storm that waits my destin'd head, The trifling joys I yet may hope to reap ; The momentary pang I have to dread, The state of undisturbed undreaming sleep ! Then all is known, — and all is known too well, Or to distract, or to delay my choice ; — No hopes solicit, and no fears rebel, Against mine ultimate determin'd voice. Had I suspicions that a future state Might yet exist, as haply I have none ; Twere worth the cost to venture on my fate, Impell'd by curiosity alone. — Sated with life, and amply gratified In every varied pleasure life can give, One sole enjoyment yet remains untried, One only novelty, — to cease to live, THI^KS-l-TO-MYSELF. 191 Not yet reduc'd a scornful alms to crave, Not yet of those with whom I live, the sport; No great man's pander, parasite or slave, O death ! I seek thy hospitable port ! Thou like a Virgin in her bridal sheet, Seeraest prepar'd consenting kind to lie; The happy bridegroom, I, with hasty feet, Fly to thy arms in rapfrous extacy ! 192 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. ANSWER. Never more modulate with your sweet aid, Ye gentle Muses ! such unhallow'd strains ! " Resolv'd to die ;" shall this by Man be said? Thankless for pleasure, shall he bear n« pains? To Him who from the cold tomb hopes to rise, Death's icy arms full " hospitable" are ; But who, averse from this world, murm'ring flies, Thy sting, O Grave! mistakingly may dare! Why dost thou ask, if flattVing hopes remain? If to thy " unton'd frame" health may return? Sure to new scenes of pleasure or of pain, Some hand may burst the cerements of thy urn. The varying seasons, expectation give : Go to the clos'd-up buds in winter's gloom, Ask by what recreating power they live, In gay spring-tide who renovates their bloom ! This is experience : — but the grave's unknown ? From pain, from sickness, and from penury ; From earthly tribulations, when thou'rt flown, How dost thou know Death will deliver thee? It is no instance of a blinded will To shun a chance so little understood; Better to bear the weight of present ill, Than risk (he certain loss of future good. THTN=KS-1-TQ-MYSELF. 191 What is thy chance then? — Here thy lot is sure ; 11 The days of Man are three score years and ten^ y And seldom more ; — how long they may endure, The wisest knows not, if we live again. Why does Eternity so startle you? Say, is it easier to comprehend, W r hat pow'rsthis mighty system can undo. And ever} r -thing annihilate and end? Exert thy reason, surely that's no slave ; Why sbeuld'st thou trust, to what thou can st not knomJ Thy thoughts destroy us, reason strives to save, And unpresumifig, says, it may be so. Should i( Oceans cease to roll, Rocks melt away, " Atlas and iEtna sink into a plain, 41 The glorious Sun, the elements decay," Man, the Creator's image, may remain ! All may remain of Man ! His outward frame May for the present moulder and decay ; But yet not lost, if God remain the same ; He hath -called uiifonnd beings into day ! Let but a finger ache, the kindred soul Its intimate alliance may perceive ; Yet cut off limbs, the mind continues whole, Uninjtir'd, unimpar'd, it yet, may live* Stop but one conduit, and the tone is lost ; And, burst each pipe, and tear up every key ; Still for some iiew-formM frame, the " Organ's Ghost," May yet exist; unaHei'd Harmony? O 194 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. So may " that quality," whose pow'rs arise Not from man's feeble and decaying frame, With every shock it suffers sympathize, Yet after its destruction, live the same. May this he argument; — th> ingenuous mind Builds not on Priestly craft, or legends vain ; Sure the sad system that destroys mankind, Knaves have invented, folly does maintain! Is there the Hell that Holy Writ declares, The Heav'n we hope for, is it really such, The wretch that shrinks from this world and its cares In such a choice, would hesitate not much. « Shall I, or shall I not, this life forego ?»— This is the argument on which you'd dwell ; Yet sure 'tis weak, unknowing where you go, To bid the chances of this world farewell. The will of HeaVn's conceal'd from human eye ; How dare you say, you " know the storm to come?" The parting pang may he but momentary, But may there be no dreaming in the tomb ? All is not known ; — yet sure enough is seen Much to delay and counteract thy choice : Hopes should solicit, fears should intervene Against thy rash and ill-determin'd voice. Thy curiosity will soon be o'er ; Why should'st thou go in danger all alone ? Can'St thou not tarry one short moment more? The term of this Life's limited and known. THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 196 Sated with Life, and all its varying joys, Try 110 new scene, you cannot judge of well, God in his own good time will raise his voice, If you believe not Heavn yet risk not Hell ! " No great man's pander, parasite, or slave, " Nor yet of those with whom you live, the sporty " Nor yet reduc'd a scornful alms to crave,*' Why like a fugitive to death resort? Death's arms are hospitable but to those Who have fulfil I'd on Earth Heav'n's high decrees; The Good in the cold grave may find repose, And wake at last to Heavenly extacies. My father would have the answer sent to Nico- tium Castle, and he got Mr. Hargrave to carry it ; — what Mr. Twist said to it, Mr. Hargrave would never exactly tell us, but he assured us, that before he left him, Mr. Tw T ist expressed a wish that poor Tom Dash had read it ; — he afterwards acknow- ledged to my father, that he would look sharp him- self before he ever took such a leap ; so that alto- gether I believe it did good ; — but as for arguing the matter much, he was certainly not very capable of it, either in prose or verse. 196 THJNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. Not long after the before mentioned visit and the writing of the poem, I strolled down to the Vicarage, thinking in my own mind that I would soon muster up courage to disclose to Emily the situation of my heart. While I was there, my mother and sister called, and, quite unexpectedly to me, proposed taking Emily home in the carriage to pass three or four days at the Hail; — bump, bump, bump, bump, went my poor heart directly : — the invitation was accepted, and she actually returned with them. — I went to Mrs. Fidget's with a message from my mother, rejoicing all the way of course at the thoughts of finding Emily at the Hall on my return. Now I suppose, that any body who never had my complaint, would naturally conclude that all the time Emily staid at Grumblethorpe, I was par- ticularly lively and gay : exerted all my talents to amuse her and engage her attention ; — nothing of the kind ! — I was ten times more shy of her than of Miss Twist : — If I spoke to her upon the most common occasion, it was always under some em- barrassment, and if I attempted at any time to be witty and facetious, nothing could possibly exceed the nonsense that came out of my mouth, so that at last I Legman seriously to think of laying aside tjiat THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 197 organ of speech, and of talking to her merely with my eyes : — with the latter, I felt far more capable of discoursing with her, and had no reason to think such ocular language was very unintelligible to her : — had she had but confidence and assurance enough to answer me, (which however, I liked her only the better for not having) I make no doubt but that the exact state of both our hearts might have been made known to each other without the utter- ance of letter, syllable, word, or sentence. One evening, during her stay, the Twdsts came. — I believe they wondered to see the companion my sister had chosen. — Nothing could exceed the assurance with which Miss Twist appeared to make me her ow T n : — had she had a spark of real love for me, she would have been more diffident, as I knew by my own feelings. While we were amusing our- selves all together with charades, riddles, thread- paper verses, and other such wonderful efforts of genius, she slipped a paper into my hands, which she said was a conundrum; when I opened h% I found it to be, — " If you love me, as I love you, " Need this twain be longer two?" which I apprehend she had learnt of her house- maid ; I pretended to laugh at it, but am ashamed v 198 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. to say, was at the same time inwardly provoked to think to myself the following short reply, — " If you love me, as I love you, " I know the reason why we're two" But indeed I verily believe that the twain were upon pretty equal terms, and that she did really love me much about as well as I loved her ; how many twain under such circumstances become one in the course of every year, I pretend not even to guess, but perhaps, now and then, riches and coro- nets do meet together under no better circum- stances ; perhaps some times under worse ; I know nothing about it. I began, however, to be very confident that some ecclaircissement must take place very soon, but as I studiously avoided giving her any encourage- ment, I was in hopes some of the elders of the party would think fit to begin the enquiry I wished to be made into the state of my sentiments. Emily staid with us four days; — during which time, though I had not suffered a vow or a promise, or even an enquiry to pass my lips, I yet felt satisfied that I had made many communications of this nature with my eyes ; — I w r as still, however, under considerable alarm about the state of her heart ; — she had a cousin who often visited at the Vicarage, THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. ] 99 just about her own age ; — whose eyes I could have poked out at any time, and given them to the birds, I felt so afraid of them, for he looked at her as well as me, and while she was with us, she was work- ing him a purse. The first time I discovered who this purse was for, I passed the whole night without once closing my eyes, in such an agony of distress, and despair, and torment, that it is a great wonder I was not quite a corpse before the morning. I have often heard this, and that, and t'other pain mentioned, as the icorst that mortals can en- dure; — such as the tooth-ache, ear-ache, head-ache, cramp in the calf of the leg, a boil, or a blister ; — now I protest, though I have tried all these, no- thing seems to me at all to come up to a pretty sharp fit of jealousy, — Give me the man that will lay quite quiet all night in his bed, and sleep com- posedly, after he has had reason to suspect, that some other man is of far more account item, than himself in the eyes of his mistress ! for my own part the torture of such a state of mind always ap- pears to me so transcendantly terrible, that even now I had rather have the tooth-ache, ear-ache, and cramp all at once, with a blister on my back, into the bargain, than undergo what I felt, the night 200 THINKS-IVFQ-MYSEJLF. of which I speak ; I mean, when I found that the purse Emily was netting, (and which I had been every evening admiring,) was promised to her cou- sin : — I have heard since that he is really a very good sort of a young man, and yet that night I could not get out of my head that he was a devil! — a downright devil! — & fiend! I suppose this was all very natural, but it serves to shew, what blun- ders nature may make when she goes to work with- out reason. — Thinks~I-to-myself, most cerlainly, " la raison n'est pas ce qui regie l' amour " What will the reader think was the state of my mind, when a little while afterwards, my sister having called at the Vicarage, brought me back a purse exactly of the same pattern % — " There," says she, " Robert, you are in luck ; — you admired the purse so much that Miss Mandeville was net- ting while she was with us, that she has been at the trouble of working another for you exactly like it, of which she begs your acceptance ; — it is not quite the same, I see," says she, " for I ob- serve she has honoured you with gold tassels instead of silk ones." I leave you to guess, gentle sentimental reader, whether the purse would have at all risen in value, had it been filled brim full with all Miss Twist's hundreds of thousands, of pounds-.. TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 201 Two or three mornings after this dear and preci- ous present was made to me : — (I cannot help stop- ping now to think how often I kissed it,) while we were at breakfast, the post came in, and my father opened one of the letters, — " the deuce take it," says he, " its come at last !" Thinks- I-to-my- self, what's come ? — but my mother said it out aloud; — " What's come at last, Mr. Dermont?" — u Aye," says my father, " poor Mr. Dermont ! you must take leave of him, I am afraid for ever !" — " Good God," says my mother " what do you mean?" and was near fainting : — my father, God help him > had not the smallest intention of excit- ing such alarm : — when he saw my mother turn so pale, he was frightened out of his wits ; — " Lord," says he, " how could I be such an idiot ; it's no- thing but that nasty Scotch Barony that is come ; for old Lady Tay -arid-Tumble is dead, and I am Lord Kilgamock !" Never did a peerage, I believe, Scotch, English, or Irish, meet with a more unwelcome reception ; for we were all too much occupied with the reco- very of my mother to take any further notice of it, so that by the time Mr. Hargrave joined the break- fast party, the Baroness Kilgamock seemed to have quite forgotten it, for as soon as he entered,— 202 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. u Do," says she, " Mr. Dermont, make Mr. Mar- grave understand that we are not all crazy, for I am sure he must think so :" — as mv mother o-ot better, we of course returned to our seats, and then Mr. Hargrave was duly made acquainted with all that had passed. It was settled, however, that not a word at pre- sent should be said about it: — " for God's sake," says my father, " let me take breath a little before it is made known, for I fear I shall soon be sur- feited with ' my Lord/ and ' your Lordship' " — It could not, however, be kept secret long, for in two hours after, an express arrived, requiring my fa- ther's presence in Scotland, if possible, or if not pos- sible at least in London, to sign some papers of con- sequence. — The news therefore transpired, and Mr. Dermont became my Lord, — and for my own part, let the title come as it would, I, of all people in the world, had reason to be glad ; for nothing could be more puzzling than my own appellation before my father became a lord, for being not far advanced beyond my boyhood, some of the ser- vants would still continue to call me Master Bobby ; some advancing a little further, would call me Mr. Bobby; some Mr. Robert, and some, Mr. Robert Dermont ; — but now the point was happily THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 203 settled :— the Honourable Bob or Bobby would never do, the Honourable Robert was quite right in matters of form, but for colloquial purposes and cases of personal address, Mr. Dermont became my exclusive property. It was curious to see how many notes we re- ceived in the compass of a few days, directed to the Right Honourable Lady Kilgamock. — Poor Miss Twist made a blunder that was very natural, but almost laughable from its coming so soon ; for on the very evening of the day the news came, my sister received a note from her, directed to the honourable Miss Kilgamock ; — she fancied, poor thing, that we were Kilgarnocked from one end of the family to the other, and that Dermont was become quite a plebeian name, — a mere cast away. The first person I saw after the said arrival of. the title, was Mr. Mandeville. If the reader thinks he made a lower bow to the Honourable Mr. Bob than usual, he will be much mistaken, for he came on the contrary, expressly to chide and rebuke me, almost to insult me : — Emily having made me a present of a purse, I naturally, but perhaps still without reason, (who ought always to be at hand to check her wayward sister) had wished to make 204 THINKS-X-TO-MYSELF. her some present in return, and because I was far from London and every other place where a sump- tuous present might be purchased, I had begged my sister to let me have back a locket I had given her with my hair in it, very prettily ornamented with pearls.— This present, Mr. Mandeville in much form brought back to me ; — my heart bumped as much as ever, though I had become the Honoura- ble ; — he gave it back in my hand, and begged I would on no account give her such a present : — " If you have some paltry thing," says he, e ' about the worth of her purse to send back, I'll freely take it, as a present from one play-fellow to another, but as for your lockets and hair, I must not admit such things."— " My dear Mr. Mandeville," says I, " you shall have what you please, only let me beg, that if I give it to you, you will not vainly fancy that you have the worth of the purse ; — how much I value it, I neither dare tell you, or any body else ;" — he shook me by the hand, and wished me good bye, taking with him a mere fancy seal that I had brought from Scotland. Any body will suppose that we were now sel- dom without company, but the title, I plainly saw, had redoubled all the attacks of the Twist family, so that at last, I fairly felt it necessary to speak THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 205 to Mr. Hargrave about it. — u As we were riding together one day, — " I see/' says I, " my dear Sir, some things daily happen, that I am afraid will one time or other occasion misunderstandings, if not disappointments: — I see that both at home and at Nicotium Castle, expectations are enter- tained that I shall one time or other marry Miss Twist; — my good father, I think, has partly set his heart upon it, but the Twists, I am sure, make certain of it : — it is fit, therefore, I think, that I should, openly and explicitly, explain to somebody, that that match never can take place ! Nothing, I think, can ever possibly persuade me to marry a woman so erroneously and so foolishly educated : — of her person I say nothing. — If I could love her, 1 should not care about the frame her soul hap- pened to be set in, — but I cannot. — Her father is to me little less than an object of sovereign con- tempt, except that I pity him, and therefore, would go far to do him any good. — Her mother is a weak, vain, fantastical woman, and after this, what can we expect the daughter to be, except indeed, I must observe, that it might be otherwise if Miss Watson had full sway : — then she might be something ; but with a father and mother so deplorably ignorant, an angel of a governess could 206 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. do nothing. I leave it to you, my dear Sir, to make this known to my father, and that I may be as ingenuous as possible, — I wish to add at once, that my heart is otherwise engaged, and I think indelibly so." Here I stopped; — and Mr. Hargrave stopped also, — his horse I mean, for as yet he had said nothing; — however, after a little recollection, he rode on :— " I have listened," says he, " attentively to all you have said. — Young men and old men see things so differently, that I cannot pretend even to guess what your father will say to this : — I know that he has, as you observe, partly set his mind on your marrying Miss Twist, and every body else, I can safely say, expects it. — You think otherwise, but it is foolish to fancy, that though you are heir to a title, three hundred thousand pounds are ignominiously to be rejected. — I know perfectly w r ell that they are at your command. — One word from yourself might for ever unite these two noble and contiguous estates. — I am afraid you are weak, though I confess you appear strong. — Your mouth speaks wisely, but I fear your heart judges foolishly." — " My dear Sir," says I, M say not this, till you know more :" — " I wish to know more," says lie, " I wish to know all — I should wish to THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 207 know, (but there I am sure I shall be disappointed) I should wish to know how and where your heart is engaged :" — " Sir," says I, u you shall not be disappointed ; — I will tell you fairly and openly: — Miss Mandeville is the person I wish to make my wife, if she will have me f — " if she will have you" says Mr. Hargrave ! " I suppose you pretty well know whether she will have you or not !" — " Sir," say I, " I do not :— I know no more of Miss Man- deville's private sentiments than yourself, but I will marry her if / can ;" — " You speak boldly, young Gentleman," said Mr. Hargrave, and, I must confess, he appeared angry, which I was sorry for. From this time we said little ;— he seemed to be absorbed in thought ; — for my own part, I felt re- lieved. We returned to the Hall ; and every thing seemed, for several days, to proceed as usual.— My father had been obliged to go to London, and, of course, nothing could be done till his return. — I kept a good deal to myself. — Mr. Hargrave often came to me, but always seemed to behave with much reserve ; — he even ventured, one day, to speak slightingly of the Mandevilles, so as almost to excite my indignation. At length my father returned from London, and 208 THINKS-r«TO-MYSELF. I knew that in a few days every thing would be dis- closed:— one, two, three, and four days passed, before I observed the smallest alteration :— on the fifth day, I must confess, I perceived a difference : —my father, at dinner, instead of saying, — v What do you eat, my dear Bob V— said, « Robert, what do you eat?"— and sometimes, (though I think he was absent,) called me Sir.— On the sixth day, however, the dreadful business came out : — Mr. and Mrs. Twist called at the Hall ; my father sent for me, and I excused myself : — as soon as they were gone, he came up to my room : I saw plainly he was agitated: — "I suppose, Sir" says he, " you think it a trifling thing to make fools of your parents ;" — " by no means, Sir/' says I, * so far from it, that I can solemnly declare, nothing would go nearer to break my heart, than to be compelled to do any thing that would really distress either my father or my mother." My father looked rather surprised and overcome, and I really pitied him. — " You know," says he, " Robert, how much we have been led to think, and to hope, and expect, that an union would, one time, or other, take place between the Twist family and our's ; — our estates are conti- guous : — the joint property would be enormous, and no exphtce has been spared upon Miss Twist's edu- THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 209 cation ;" — " Sir," says I, " I grant it all ;— but I do not like Miss Twist, and my heart is otherwise en- gaged :" — " otherwise engaged T says my father, " that is the worst of it : — I might reasonably have indulged you in a choice about Miss Twist, but to have gone and engaged yourself without consulting me, to a person quite beneath you, is such an act of disrespect and disregard that I cannot overlook it ¥' — " Sir," says I, "somebody must surely have told you that I have engaged myself to somebody quite beneath me, ^lse you would not have said it :" — ■ ** somebody has told me so, undoubtedly," says my father, " and I do not scruple to say who, because he did not enjoin me any secrecy : — Mr. Hargrave it was that told me that you not only rejected Miss Twist, but that you had engaged your heart at least, if not your hand, to a person quite beneath your — " Sir," says I, " I wonder Mr. Hargrave should say so, but it is difficult to know friends from foes ;" — " Mr. Hargrave," says my father, into nothing, and at this moment the Tivist stile ' no longer separates the two domains ; — the Nico- tium property came to the hammer several years ago, and Clodpole, after all, is in possession of the whole ! My being in Parliament laid us under a necessity of being more in London, than was quite agreeable either to Emily or myself. The fair face of nature had charms for us, which we looked for in vain in tire dark and dirty metropolis. — As far as we our- selves were personally concerned, we found no com- pensation in the noise and bustle of that enormous city, for the quiet retirement, and calmer pleasures of a rural residence. I fear I should be accounted dull and stupid to the greatest degree, nay, judged to be altogether of a mean and base spirit, were I explicitly to declare how much I do really prefer the one to the other. — I will even acknowledge that sometimes I have been almost ashamed to confess it to myself, fear- ing it could only result from a disposition to prefer nature in general to human nature; that is, inani- mate and irrational objects to my fellow-creatures ; THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 265 for, while the country abounds with the former, it has ever appeared to me, that human nature may be said to have London to itself : — whoever, therefore, has but one spark of real philanthropy ; that is, whoever can bring himself to love man, merely as man, in preference to all other beings and earthly existences whatsoever, (which is, it must be con- fessed, the height of Christianity,) to whomsoever, I say, this can happen, London must needs be the very place in which he ought most to delight ; in- asmuch as, in all probability, that renowned city, take it all together, contains within it more of human nature, than any other corner of the globe ; — I mean, of genuine human nature, such as man really is, not by education, but spite of education, and every other restraint whatsoever, human or divine : — man, to be beloved as man, ought certainly to be seen and known in London, because there he may be seen in almost every possible situation, and under every variety of character, and therefore, if he does really deserve to be loved as he ought to be, or in other words, as our holy religion enjoins, where can we expect to be better satisfied and convinced of his matchless and extraordinary perfections, than in that general receptacle and resort of the species at large;— therefore, it is, that I grieve to say, that 266 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. after numberless efforts to the contrary, I still seem to prefer nature at large : — Thinks-I-to-myself, there's rather more appearance of order, of harmony, of beauty, of utility, of virtue, of innocence, in the view of almost any country district, than of the most thronged, crowded, populous, busy part of London ! This, I conceive, to be a genuine Thinks-I-to-my- self: — I don't suppose any body ever thought the like : — I scarcely, indeed, dare avow so singular a prejudice : — I am, in fact, ashamed of it altogether, and would give the world to get rid of it, because, at all events, London is a very useful. place, and the difference between town and country is, it must be confessed, so palpably in favour of the former. fOften am I tempted to say, as I traverse the streets of London, on a fine spring morning, why cannot I be contented, as so many thousands are, to enjoy the bright beams of the sun, as they are dimly reflected from the surface of, that long range of buildings of dingy brick work, the habitations of man ; spending all their vivifying force on the su- perficies of this delightful stone pavement, on which so many lords of the creation are delighted to tread, instead of wishing rather to behold that wonderful luminary, enlightening, unrestrained, (that is, in a careless, loose, and rude manner,) a mere vulgar ex- THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 267 pause of rural scenery, mountain and valley, hill and dale, wood and wilderness, dispersing its rays abroad, to cheer and revive seldom any thing better than mere birds and beasts, herbs and trees, to ripen the fruits of the earth, or adorn the flowers of the field? Surely, Thinks-I-to-myself, it ought to be far more gratifying, if I had but a just notion of the pre-eminence and dignity of man, to see it insinuat- ing itself with such modesty and humility, and such deference to the multifarious restrictions im- posed on it, into the cracks and comers, and narrow passes of the crowded metropolis ; making its way with such eager anxiety, as it generally seems to do, though continually turned out of its direct course, into its numerous streets and squares, lanes" and alleys, courts and passages, shops and shambles ! ! The dignity and proud pre-eminence of as human creatures cannot, I think, be placed in a higher point of view, than by the marked subservience of this glorious luminary in this particular region of the globe : — though there is no place on the face of the whole earth in which it is more scurvily treated by man, woman, and child, it yet never wantonly turns away its beams ; — it rises many many hours before there is any-body awake or in -• 268 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. motion to be enlightened by its rays, and submits to be put out of countenance by the preference al- most universally given to wax and tallow candles ; — it submits to shine only by reflection and refraction, seldom in full lustre into any one street of the me- tropolis ; and if it ever does appear in person to the astonished eye, it is most commonly not in its ut- most glory, but more like a dark red ball shorn of its beams, not near so bright as one of those enor- mous show bottles in a Chemist's shop, that so often dazzle and confound your eyes^ as you traverse the streets at night. I know not where the sun receives more mark- ed insults than in London, either in the way of neglect, or interruption, or open contempt of its use and importance in the system of things : the moon, poor thing ! is not worthy of a thought ; — though Queen of the Night, which latter has more votaries in London than any-where else, all the honours are transferred to the one without the smallest care or concern being expressed for the other. — Thinks-I-to-myself there are other queens of the night at London ! It is a pity but the sun and moon could be per- suaded to leave London to itself, and bestow such portions of their light as are thus uselessly spent # THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 269 upon the metropolitans, to the greater accommoda- tion of the country folks : — the latter alone, in fact, seem to be duly sensible of the great and particular benefits to be derived from these two great lights of Heaven ; made originally, (as I have read,) the Sun to rule the day, and the Moon to rule the night ; an ordinance which Londoners have thought pro- per to reverse, so that generally and for the most part, the night of a Londoner falls under the do- minion of the sun, and the day of a Londoner under the dominion of the moon : — Is it not so, Sir ? — Is it not so Madam ? — Is it not so, Miss ? — Speak out honestly. Not that all London, perhaps, is ever asleep at the same moment ; — as there are plenty of disturb- ers, so there are probably plenty of disturb-^, at all hours ; — sweep ! and dust ! — hare sheens! and rob- bit -sheens ! — and ould clouthes! no doubt often, at the daw r n of day, interrupt the very commencement of many a belle's repose, just returned from the ball, or assembly, or masquerade! but let these reflect in their turn : how many honest, industrious, hard- working citizens, the rattling of their carriages may have robbed of the end of their repose, at hours still more unreasonable, more precious, and more allow- edly dedicated to Morpheus. 270 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF And now I have alluded to these things, I can- not help mentioning another strange and unaccount- able prejudice which I could never shake off, though so necessary to my comfort, during my attendance in Parliament : — instead of being cheered and ex- hilarated, as others generally are, by the sweet sounds that are continually saluting you in London, such as the rattling of coaches just mentioned, the rambling of carts, the cry of sprats and mackrit, muffins and crumpets, dust O, sweep O, milk-below maids, and other such melodious strains, I could at any time have found greater delight in the dull warbling of larks or linnets, black-birds or night- ingales, and other rural noises, such as — " The wild brook babbling down the mountain side, The lowing herd, the sheep -fold's simple bell ; The pipe of early Shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide; The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove." There must naturally be something so much more noble and important in the " busy hum of men," than in the u busy hum of bees," or any other in- THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 271 ferior animal, that I am almost ashamed to acknow- ledge such base prepossessions. It is often said, and oftener perhaps thought of London, as of Paris in old time, that the very air of the metropolis, is necessary to the improvement and perfection of any talent we may happen to pos- sess : — that those who have not visited the capital, cannot be expected ever to excel in any art or any science, — upon which I can only say, what has been already said also in the case of Paris alluded to, namely, that this is indeed very likely to be true, since, undoubtedly, the air of London must needs be a very particular air ; — not any of your mere simple, uncompounded, insipid fluids like the air of the country, but evidently and palpably con- sisting of an immense variety of substances most curiously blended and mingled together ; — London, as well as Paris, may reasonably be considered as one vast crucible in which divers meats and fruits, oils, wines, pepper, cinnamon, sugar, coffee, (this for Paris, you may add for London,) coal-dust, and coal- smoke, brick- dust, mud, the steam of a thousand breweries, the fumes and vapours of ten thousand gin-shops, &c. &c. Sec. &c. are daily collected, the stomachs and lungs of the inhabitants being the 272 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. furnace by which these various ingredients are again decomposed. (It must be evident to all capable of considering the subject but for one moment, that the more sub- tile and volatile parts of everything, in the while town, capable of decomposition, must be every mo- ment flying off and incorporating themselves with the air we breathe ! what smoke ! what flames ! what a torrent of vapours and exhalations ! I need not pursue this matter further : — the hint is sufficient to enable any person in full possession of almost any one of the Jive senses, taste, touch, smell, sight, or hearing, to swell the catalogue, as well as to enlarge his own ideas of the very extraor- dinary nature and component parts of a London atmosphere. How can we be surprised if it work effects not to be looked for elsewhere : — who can wonder that the genius should be brighter, the brain clearer, the senses more acute ; the faculties (not to mention the virtues) of the soul improved, in an atmosphere subject to such curious compositions and aecomposi- tions, sublimations, fermentations, elective attractions, precipitations, &c. &c. &c? There is nothing on which it appears to have a THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 271 more powerful and wonderful effect, than on the human voice, — The energies and operations of which have here a value which would exceed all belief, if it were not capable of being verified by an appeal to facts notorious to the whole world : — I do not mean to speak of the little trumpery profits of those who hawk and cry their commodities about the public streets, {though to my soft ear, so wonder- fully sonorous are the voices of the very gentlest of those gentle orators, that they seem, most of them, to possess the ffty-f old faculties of a Stentor ;) nor do I mean to speak of the popular preachers in the several chapels in London, regular or irregular, (though, for what I know, many of them may be admired, and paid more for the sound than for the sense they utter ;) — nor do I mean to speak of the profits of the gentry of the long robe, (though I have heard it rumoured that some are frequently reward- ed more for what they say, than what they think ;) — nor do I mean to speak of my brethren in Parlia- ment, (though I know it is thought that many of them make some profit of their voices ;) — nor do I indeed mean to speak at all of the effects the Lon- don air has on the lungs of Englishmen or English- women, to w r hom it may be considered as at all events natural and congenial ; — but I mean most 272 THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. particularly, to allude to the very surprising advan- tages it gives to the voices of those who happen to have been bom in the fair climes of Italy : — the more surprising because a Northern atmosphere might be naturally expected to be rather disadvan- tageous to such Southern rarities. I might adduce a thousand instances in proof of the astonishing value of an Italian voice, when exposed to the influences of a London atmosphere ; I might amuse the reader, if I chose, with a curi- ous calculation of the probable amount of the enor- mous sums paid for every word of every air that pro- ceeds from the mouths of certain eminent perform- ers, but an article I read this very day in the newspa- pers is so much in point, that I shall merely tran- scribe it ; — " Madame Catalani had diamonds on her head to the amount of £15,000 — her voice, however, is her richest jewel" A Lady's virtue is generally supposed to be her " richest jewel ;" but you see the voice of an Italian lady in London outweighs even that ; — at least, so the paragraph just cited implies : — most certainly, however in a pecuniary point of view, it does always outweigh the brightest and purest virtues of many of our worthy countrymen, and most amiable countrywomen. THINKS-I-TOMYSELF. 273 There are several things for which I wish to give London unbounded credit ; particularly with regard to all matters of social intercourse : — these are far better managed in London than in the country. — Mrs. Fidget, for instance, and her troublesome dogs, and child, (see pages 52, 53, &c.) would never have been admitted in London, while my mother was writing a letter to my sister, unless she had herself, bonajide, as they say in Latin, that is, from the bottom of her heart, chosen it : — she might have looked out of window herself, and said, " Not at home/ 9 so little are these things thought of in that great and polite city. I know there must ever appear to be something very like a deliberate falsehood, not to s&y- down- right lie, in such sort of denials, and therefore, I think it w r ould be better for people actually to say it themselves at once, out of the window, as I have hinted above, instead of making their ser- vants their substitutes upon such occasions, that is, their deputy, pro, or r/ce-liars : — London servants, besides, are in general, and when left to themselves, so remarkably pure, so perfectly innocent, and al- together immaculate, that it is a shame to lay such stumbling-blocks in their w r ay ;— surely it would, t 2 274 THlNKS-I-TO-MYSEtF. at least, be worth while to invent some harmless equivoque for this sort of questions and answers. And now I am upon the subject of being at home, I must observe, that to " be at home," msans, in London, I scarce know what: — it certainly does not mean that you are in your own house, private and disengaged, so as to sit quietly, snug, and rationally, at full liberty, and with complete command of your time, in the enjoy- ment of the company of your husband or wife, and the olive branches it may have pleased Heaven to. raise up around your family table; but it is rather, I think, as far as I am able to com- prehend the matter, the exact contrary of all this : — " to be at home," in London, is any -thing rather than to sit snug and quiet, in full enjoyment of one's liberty : — it is to open one's doors to eveiy body we happen to know, and to give them permission, by every freedom in the world, to make it their home for the time being ; so far from sitting snug and quiet you are, of all the people in such an assem- bly, the very person most peremptorily forbidden ever to sit snug or quiet : — your servants even must be more at the command of the company than of yourselves ; nay, perhaps, by a certain deposit of money under the candlesticks, they must consent TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 275 to be paid their wages by the visitors, for fear you should not be found fit to be trusted. The misery is, that when they are all gone, you are really left at home ; that is, you have your house so completely on your own hands, that, probably, not one of all the company just departed, care a bit more about you or your house *, though you are compelled to care about them, in the mere anxiety you feel, lest every thing should not have been conducted, as the French say, " comme il faut" which admirably expresses a necessity of a most imperious nature, in regard to which, any failure, ovfaux-pas, I fully apprehend, would be more disquieting to the consciences of half the ladies in London, than ever so many failings or omissions of any other description. From all the observations I have been able to make, it certainly appears to me, that to be at home, in London, does by no means imply any * The following lines of the immortal Cowper I cite, merely to shew how little he knew of the world: — " She that asks Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, And hates their coming; they, what can they less? Make just reprisals, and with cringe and shrug, And bow obsequious, hide their hate of her." 276 THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. private comfort or domestic liberty, but rather public inconvenience, and public distress. — One more observation I must make, before I dismiss this topic. There is a method of being at home, lately in- vented, which, if strictly interpreted according to the very letter of the terms, is the farthest possible from being really at home in your own house ; — it is, in fact, freely and deliberately to give up your home: — I speak of the custom of lending certain great houses, (so great that I dare not mention them,) to musical or theatrical performers, who have leave to sell tickets of admission, leaving only to the real possessor of the house, a power and privi- lege of adding a very small proportion of the company. I have such a high respect fox fiddlers, and danc- ing-masters, and opera singers, and foreigners in general, that I cannot, and would not, indeed, for the world, suppose it possible that they could in- troduce any improper company, but money is mo- ney, — and I believe that a Bank-note does not at all lose its value by coming out of the pocket of any vagabond on the face of the earth, any more than it increases in value by coming out of the purse of a Duchess, Marchioness, Countess, Vifecounless, THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELF. 277 Baroness, &c. &c. &c. so that, Thinks- I-to-my self, there's a hazard : the lady of the house may be good, super-excellent ; but the company may be naught ! — what a contrast ! — what an inconsisten- cy? — she may " be at home," certainly, as far as she is entitled to go to bed there when all the rest of the company are gone, but she may depend upon it they will all think themselves as much at home as herself, so long as they may choose to keep her out of her bed, and are, after all, about as much obliged to her for any entertainment they may have received, as to the proprietor of any inn or hotel, for the accommodation of their rooms, so long as they may choose to give a pecuniary equi- valent for the bows and curtsies, and eatables and drinkables wherewith they have been furnished for their money : — Hotel in French, the very word for a nobleman's mansion, (grande maison d y une per- sonne de qualite,) what then if we w T ere to exchange the term House for Hotel, and say, D Hotel, E Hotel, F Hotel, &c. Sec. &c. that is, in plain English genteel, (nay, even noble) accom- modations for those who can afford it. Neighbourhood, which is a word of great import- ance in the country, is of no account at all in Lon- don. — Every day, in the country, you may hear 278 THINKS- l-TO-MYS-ELF. such complaints as these:- — " I wish such and such persons lived a little nearer" or, '* I wish such and such people were further ;" that is, further off, out of sight and out of reach ; but no such murmur- ings or wishes -are to be heard in London : — the people we hate most in the world, are welcome to live next door to us, and there is nobody too far off, if any pleasure or profit, amusement or delight, but above all, any credit or eclat are to be derived from visiting them. In London, wherever you arcrcof, nobody, pro- bably, of all the company, knows where you are, so that you may, with much more facility, and far less violence to truth, than in the country, decline any troublesome or unpleasant invitation ; nor are pleasant or unpleasant invitations so likely to clash and interfere in town as in the country, for houses enough are open generally every night to enable you in the way of visiting, to kill twenty or thirty head of game (as Mrs. Fidget would say) in one evening; whereas, either on foot, or horseback, or in carriages, it must cost you a journey of many miles in the country, and all to be transacted by vulgar day-light, and all in regular turns, without one omission, or any notorious preference : where- THIN KS-I-TO-MYS ELF. 279 as in London, preferences at least are possible, as not being very easy to detect. It is a great comfort also, that in London, when- ever they please, " birds of a feather" may get together ; whereas all society in the country is, for the most part, so heterogeneous and unharmonious, that you will generally see peacocks and sparrows, and eagles and tomtits, canary-birds and crows, gold- finches and Didappers, all jumbled together; and if one peacock would wish to find another peacock, or one eagle another eagle, perhaps they may look the whole country through before they find one ; — in London there is always plenty of all kinds, both of birds and beasts, clean and unclean, from the highest to the lowest, so that every one may find his fellow — geese, owls, rooks, swallows, cormorants, lions, tygers, wolves, bears, foxes, and asses ! to a certainty every beast of prey and every bird of passage. The only equalising plan to be adopted in the country, is as soon as possible, to set the whole party down to cards. Tw t o whist, cassino, or qua- drille tables will dispose of four couple at least of the elderly birds, and a good bouncing round game will take all the rest off your hands ; — by supply- 280 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. ing the want of conversation in those who c&nnot talk, and effectually stopping the mouths of all that can, the different measures of talents and in- formation, which the several individuals of the com- pany may chance to possess, are so happily brought to a par at a card-table, and the wise be no longer distinguished from the tveak, nor the witty from the dull, nor the lively from the stupid, nor the sage from the savage, nor the saint from the sinner ; or, in other words, the peacock from the spar- row, the eagle from the torn-tit 9 &c. 8cc. &c. — Though no two of the whole covey may chance to be of '* one feather," they are sure enough to be, (at a card-table one), all of one note. " Tioo by honours and three by cards;' 9 " Great cass, little cass, and the spades, Ma'am :" or, " You go rip, Miss, and 1 draw ;" become of necessity as much the song of the nightingale as of the magpie, of the goldfinch as of the gull, of the turtle-dove as of the gos-hawk, though their plumage be as different as it is possi- ble to conceive. — Do but turn gentle Reader, to folio 12 of that learned work, which has lately made so much bustle in the world, and which of course I conclude to be in every library in the king- dom, (except, perhaps, the Bodleian and a few others,) I mean the PEACOCK AT HOME, and THIN KS-I-TO-MY SELF. 28.1 sec, what little difference the plumage makes, and how much upon a par the Dowager lady Toucan, and Dame Owlet, Doctor Buzzard, and Admiral Penguin appear to be, and how perfectly it seems to have been forgotten, by the party themselves perhaps, but at all events by the lady of the house, (or rather my Lord Peacock) that they would not be accounted " birds of a feather" upon any other occasion. I wonder, for my own part, that I am not more fond of cards than I happen to be, for the very essence of the amusement seems to me to consist in thinking-to-one' s-self— cither in the forced sup- pression of the bright ideas and useful information with which the witty and the wise might be enter- taining the company, were but the common chan- nel of converse and communication left open to them; or in secret ponder ations, hopes, schemes, wishes, fears, and designs of every professed and anxious player : or in the restraint put upon the passions in orderly company, during an occupation in which irritation, vexation, perhaps even envy, ha- tred, malice, jealousy and revenge must, in the na- ture of things, be as nearly as possible inevitable, at least in some breasts, from the beginning of al- most every game to the very end of it. Do but 282 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. look again at the picture, and see, for instance, if the Dowager Lady Toucan don't seem, (while she dare not utter her feelings,) to be thinking to herself, that she could willing clam Admiral Penguin's eyes out, for not being able to save her from being beasted; while Dame Owlet is more pleasantly, (but not, perhaps, less spitefully,) thinking-to-RKK- self how fortunate she is to have snug in her own hand, the happy card that is to do the business. The noble Admiral, forgetful of his element and profession, evidently appears to be thinking, not of the fishes in the sea as usual, but of the fishes in the pool; while Dr. Buzzard alone, seems to turn away, as though not very fond of quadrille, and (possibly) may be thinking-to-himself, how much rather he would be at home, or visiting his patients, writing prescriptions, and fingering of fees ; hear- tily wishin G-to-himself, besides, perhaps, that the pool was out, or his partner Dame Owlet at the bottom of the sea, for playing so slow, and looking all the while so stupidly tranquil, patient, and composed. O Cards !— Cards !— Cards !— Noble, admirable, valuable invention ! so infalli- bly conducive to the moral improvement of the young, and to the peace and satisfaction of the old TH1NKS-I-T0-MYSELF. 283 — [Wherever, that is, they are taken up, and noio and then only, for mere amusement, once a month or so, but made a part of every evening's entertainment, and every days occupation — ] The young cannot fail to learn from it, how to look sharp in time af- ter the main chance ; to have a lively regard for their neighbour's property, to be circumspect in all their dealings, to win their way, if not by tricks and stratagems, yet by art and management, and if not to go straight forward, yet at least to shuffle successfully through life. I The old it must naturally preserve (during all the hours daily and nightly devoted thereto,) as well from any painful reflections on the past, as from any over-anxious preparations for futurity ; helping all the while to quicken their hopes of eternity, by enabling them to kill Time, at the very moment that Time is doing all he can to kill them. — But to return — I In the country you must always visit in propria persona; that is, you must actually go yourselves to people's houses ; — but, in London, if your ser- vant goes for you, it is often just as well ; or, if instead of making your appearance in person, you honour your acquaintance with your name on a card of certain dimensions, it is no affront, and, Thinks-I- 284 THINKS-I-TO-MYSE'LF. to-myself, perhaps, quite as agreeable to all parties. This is a noble convenience, and cuts off a world of disquietude and trouble. It is no uncommon case in London for a servant to know better than a lady's own self whom she is acquainted with ; and many instances occur, I be- lieve, in which the whole business of visiting pass- es no further than between the footmen of differ- ent families, who having committed to them the entire management of the transfer and exchange of cards, conduct the matter with an ease and adroit- ness that does them infinite credit, and no doubt their mistresses too. (As servants of the present day are not unseldom the subject of conversation among friends and ac- quaintance, and as I have more than once had oc- casion to allude to their merits, and am always anxious to bestow praise where it is strictly due, as besides there are few of my fellow-creatures in regard to whose conduct and demeanour J think more to myself, as I am in the habit of observing them in their different departments, I cannot help offering a few remarks on that most amiable class of persons. — There is nothing, perhaps, of which this age may more justly boast than of the very improved THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 285 state of these domestic conveniences. — No longer distinguished, except in certain cases, by any arti- cles of dress from their masters and mistresses, they nobly lift up their heads on high, like the other lords and ladies of the creation, and assume, with- out exception, all the airs, and graces, and man- ners of their employers, which makes a gay world of it from top to bottom. Instead of giving any body the trouble of hiring them, in the old-fashioned way, their only mode of coming into service now is, to hire themselves : — they wait not to be asked, what they can do, but in- genuously tell you at once what they wont do ; and, if upon trial, they should happen to suit their em- ployers ever so well, yet if their employers do not exactly suit them, they avoid all disagreement by withdrawing at once. Formerly, if a servant came into sendee in his teens, he would do his best to continue in the same service till his dotage. — There was no getting rid of him : — he clung to his master or mistress like ivy to an oak tree ; but now they are for ever going and coming, which has introduced such an agree- able variety into this department of life, that theYe is no saying how many new faces one master or one mistress may see in the course of a year.— All 286 THINKS-I-XO-MYSELF. the dulness and monotony of a joint interest and mutual attachment are quite at an end ; no master need ever be encumbered long with the same ser- vant, because no servant will long consent now-a- days to live with the same master :— let them be employed by whom they will, let them be indulged, coaxed, pampered, and caressed ever so, yet such is the aspiring nature of their noble minds, that they must soon be gone again to " better themselves," and who could have the heart to stop them? — There is one circumstance rather unpleasant at- tending the perpetual change of servants. It is irksome, (to shy people at least like myself,) to sit and be looked at during the hour of dinner by a parcel of strangers around one's table ; but this is easily to be avoided in small parties by the use of the dumb-waiter— & sort of snuggery, which I con- fess, for my own part, I take great delight in, whenever practicable ; for a dumb waiter can plainly tell no secrets, which a speaking one may : besides, the dumb waiter I mean, is generally both deaf and blind into the bargain, which, Thinks- I-to-my self, multiplies one's comfort greatly. Sensible of the heavy charge they must be, in these most expensive times, to those with whom they live, modern servants are careful to guard THJNKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 289 against waste, by letting you know, as distinctly as they can, what will best suit their appetites, and what not ; and as they all eat pretty hearty as long as they have just ivhat they choose to eat, the quan- tity of broken victuals is not likely to be so great, as if they were to leave you in the dark as to their particular likings and dislikings : — this then is a modern accommodation of great importance : — if you or your housekeeper make any mistake in pro- viding for the tables below stairs, immediate mur- muring and complaint soon sets all to rights again, by letting you into the secret of the necessity of better management. Their exemption from taxes and houshold cares, renders them most happily careless and indifferent to all public and private distresses and calamities, so that they fortunately enjoy, in general, an equal state of spirits, and should any great national mis- fortune, or family loss, bring sorrow and heaviness into the drawing-room, it must be a great blessing and delight to know, that you have nothing to do but open the door, and you will be sure at all times to hear the voice of joy and gladness in the servants' hall and kitchen. | Formerly there used to be great danger of con- fusion in most housholds from the perfect indiflfe- 290 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. rence with which every servant would perform, when required, every sort of service : — if the master gave but the word of command, or expressed any sort of want, none stopped to enquire whose place it was to obey, but the first that happened to be within hearing would be eager to discharge the duty demanded ; and if more than one heard his voice, you might have seen the jo Vy footman tumbling in his eagerness over the great fat housekeeper, or the housekeeper over the cook, or the cook over the old gouty butler, all anxious to obey the impressive call ; — but now every servant makes it his business to know his own place so exactly, that it is a matter of impossibility that one should any longer invade the department of another ; — let the call be ever so loud, or the emergency ever so pressing, no entrea- ty or chiding, no coaxing or commanding, could induce a butler to consent to do the work of&foot- man, or a footman the work of a groom, or a house- maid the work of a cook, or a cook the work of a housemaid, but every one will be found to have such an invincible disposition to preserve the order and etiquette of things, that the smallest irregu- larity in this respect, on the part of any master or any mistress, is sure to be checked or corrected by the timely advice and memento, that, "It is not THINKS-I-TO-MYSELFi 291 my place to do so and so." This also is an inven- tion of very modern date. There is one office, duty, or service, of some im- portance to the comfort and welfare of the commu nity, which is now entirely relinquished and aban- doned by the whole race and order of domestics ; namely, that of informing the master or mistress of any disorderly proceedings on the part of the household in general. — "Ma'am/' says Mrs, House- keeper, " I did certainly know long ago that Dolly the housemaid did intrigue with Charles thefootman, but I thought it was not my business to interfere :" — and " Sir,"' says Mr. Butler, " I certainly thought that some silver spoons were missing, and that Molly the dairy-maid dressed too fine ; but I did not like to get anger among my fellow-servants, by making any piece of work about it." It used formerly to be a matter of convenience for any master or mistress to communicate an order or direction through a third person : — to tell the butler, for instance, to tell the coachman to wait at table, or the footman to ask the groom to carry a letter to the post : — but this round-about mode of communi- cation is now properly put an end to :— Mr. Butler no longer dare presume to tell Mr. Coachman to wait at table ; or Mr. Charles thefootman Mr. Bob u2 292 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF, the groom to carry a letter to the post ; Mrs. House- keeper to tell Miss House-maid to help her prepare the sweet-meats ; nor the nurse to ask the laundry- maid to bring up little Miss's dinner. But if these things are to be done for the special accommo- dation of the master and mistress, it is settled and agreed, that in point of etiquette they are bound to deliver the commands themselves — which is but paying a proper compliment to their supremacy ; — and though resistance may be often made even to the commands of masters and mistresses themselves in such cases, yet one step at least in the disturb- ance and discomfiture of families is by this means avoided, while the honour, dignity, pride, and im- portance of all the wider-servants remains inviolate — a point most particularly to be attended to in the present day, by all who wish to live (with the con- sent and permission of their dependents) in peace and quietness. In old time, every male servant wore a livery, the best possible badge of his calling and profession, though rather a degrading one, and therefore of course, better laid aside ; and thus we see, that now, none will wear a livery that can possibly avoid it ; and where livery servants must be kept for show and parade, they are so chosen and selected as TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 293 amply to compensate the casual degradation of their harlequin jackets ; — none being admitted into the chosen band, but such as are distinguished above their fellows, by extraordinary altitude or beauty of person, or elegance of figure, or gentility of address ; the exterior is all that is attended to, and they are generally hired by measure. / T cannot pretend to say whether the above im- provements are owing most to the masters and mistresses of the present day, or to the servants themselves: — perhaps they deserve to share the praise between them ; — perhaps, both have contri- buted all they could to that happy change of man- ners and circumstances, upon which I have judged fit to congratulate the public at large. At times when the servants of other countries were judged to be notoriously bad, the wisest heads seem to have been puzzled to know where exactly to fix the blame ; — some thought the masters were in fault, and others the servants : — no wonder, therefore, if I am now equally puzzled to know how to portion out aright the commendations that may be due to each.— -About thirty years ago, a cele- brated French writer thus speaks of the bad condi- tion of servants at Paris, attributing their faults, in a great degree, to the conduct of their masters ;— 294 TH1NKS-I-TO-MYSELF. " Servants in former days" says he, (for the title of the chapter is Nos Grand Meres, out Grand- mothers,) " made part of the family : — they were treated with less civility, but more affection; of which they being duly sensible, were in proportion grateful and attentive ; — masters were better served, and could depend upon them for a degree of fidelity very rare in these days ; — care was taken to pre- serve them alike from vice and from want ; and, in return for their services and obedience, they plenti- fully enjoyed all the fruits of kindness and protec- tion ; — but, now, servants pass from house to house, and from place to place, perfectly indifferent what master it is they serve, and will come into the pre- sence of the one they have just quitted, without the smallest emotion ; — they never get together but to reveal the secrets they have been in the way to dis- cover : and are, in fact, no better than spies ; and, as they are well paid, and well fed, but despised, they perceive it to be so, and therefore are become our greatest enemies : — formerly, they led a frugal, laborious, hard life, but they were held in some esteem and regard, and, therefore, the faithful ser- vant commonly died of old age by the side of his master." This author does not seem to be quite aware of THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 295 some of the comforts flowing from the changes he describes ; — certainly, his old masters were shock- ingly unfashionable, though his new ones might be somewhat to blame. The other account I have to give throws the blame upon the servants : — the original is in Latin ; don't be frightened, ladies, it is Clodpole trans- lates, and it was one of your greatest favourites who wrote it, — even the famous Petrarch,- — the son- netteer, — the lover of Laura, — a great poet, a great lover, and a great philosopher, and what is more than all, a great man, for he kept great company, and, probably, had in his time a great many great servants :— it is worth reading at all events, because it is nearly five hundred years old, and so good as servants are now, you would scarce believe it pos- sible (Thinks-I-to-myself,) that they could ever have been so bad. f Seneca," says he, " has said a great deal in ex- cuse of servants, throwing the whole blame on their masters, and he commends his friend, Lucilins, for living familiarly with his domestics : — What can I say? — I do not like to dispute the opinion of so great a man, and yet, I must confess, things appear to me quite otherwise : — possibly, they had the ad- vantage, either of greater skill and prudence to 296 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. make their servants good, or better luck in meeting with such as happened to be good: — to myself neither of these things ever occurred, though I have been particularly solicitous about both :■ — let others, therefore, see to their own concerns ; as to myself I cannot praise what I have never known :— -to me, the race of servants is above all things abominable, and I regard nothing as more true than the old proverb with which Seneca finds fault, namely, that ' as many servants as you have, so many enemies you have.' " I do not pretend to dispute what he says in particular, or to deny his authorities ; — but whether it be owing to the change of times, or mere chance, or my own impatience, I do declare that I never yet saw a good servant, though I am continually upon the look-out for them ; and if I were by acci- dent ever to meet with one, I should be as much amazed, as if I had met a man with two heads. i* And lest any should be disposed from what I say, to attribute this either to my particular care- lessness or severity, I must protest that I have tried every expedient ; — Lucilius could not live with his servants more familiarly than I have done with mine ; I have advised with them, I have conversed THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 297 with them, Ihave even admitted them to my table*; I have confided to them my person and my property, and trusted them on purpose to make them faith- ful ; — but this my confidence in them has never answered : every artifice, on the contrary, has been practised against me : not one of my servants but has become more insolent in consequence of my familiarity, and more unmanageable in consequence of my indulgence ; and as familiarity has bred con- tempt, so has my confidence in them only made them thieves : — let Seneca then say what he pleases of his servants, I must speak what I think of my own and others ; for I know not how it is, but if I speak the truth I think all are alike : — I confess, for my own part, I find nothing in life so vexatious as the obstinacy and perverseness of servants.— Other wars and contentions have their intervals of peace and repose, but with these domestic foes, we must fight without intermission. — I am not, how- ever, unmindful" (Thinks-I-to-myself, it is as well to add to this, though it does at present in no man- ner apply to any of us, — )" that we ought to learn to bear with patience what we know to have be- fallen the greatest and the best of men: — even * Remember this was written 500 years ago. 298 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. Ulysses, in that celebrated sera which is termed heretical, among the other hard toils and labours he sustained, is said to have been sorely afflicted at the insolence of his servants and hand-maidens ; and, in more modern days, as report goes, the Em- peror Frederick never ceased, (living and dying,) to complain of the injuries he had sustained from servants." How happy, (Thinks- I-to-my self,) how superla- tively happy we ought to be, that neither of the above accounts do at all apply to the masters, or mistresses, or servants of the times and country in which we live : — No : — now, among ourselves, every thing is correct and comfortable ; masters love their servants, and servants their masters ; — mis- tresses their maids, and maids their mistresses ;— how much, I do not even attempt to describe; as nothing can exceed the quiet, submissive, and civil obedience of the present race of servants, their fru- gality and diligence, their patient compliance and contentedness with every thing enjoined them, and every thing provided for them, so nothing, surely, can ever exceed the care which modern masters have of their servants' interests, both temporal and spiri- tual: — in the words of an old author, — THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 299 14 They care not what wages they give, They care not what life 'tis they live." See the Epistles of the very learned Grumble- dumpsius; but N. B. look sharp, ox perhaps, you will not find it. When Emily and myself first went to London, we took with us some old fashioned servants from Grumblethorpe, being willing rather to put up with their odd and uncouth ways, than take a new set merely to please ourselves ; — as they have been in the family ever since they w r ere children, they will probably all soon drop off by degrees, and then w r e shall have a general reform of our whole household : I confess it will be a happy moment for myself, be- cause then I may feel at liberty ; — at present, their continual concern and anxiety about my health and my happiness, and the health and happiness of my wife and children, and the order and regularity of my house, and the morals and behaviour of the under-servants, perfectly prevent our doing many things, that are quite common in other families > though somewhat contrary to the laws both of God and man : — it is very trying to live under such restraints ! The provoking thing is, that notwithstanding all their old-fashioned habits, and troublesome anxiety 300 thiNks-i-to-myself. about one's happiness, long acquaintance naturally produces even a strong degree of love and esteem for them, so that few, I should think, could find in their hearts to turn them adrift, if they happen not to wish to depart of themselves : — the very nurse that nursed me, that took me first from my mother's lap, is still an inmate of my house ; — though so af- flicted with the rheumatism and a defect of sight, and worn down with age, as to be perfectly and entirely useless, I have been weak enough to pro- mise that she shall have her run for life among us, and that I will deposit her remains when she dies, somewhere near her old master and mistress, in the church-yard at Grumblethorpe. Luckily for her, Emily and my children find amusement in her old stories, and 1 believe, often encourage her to talk of past times, which is her greatest delight : — they have learnt from her, I find, the exact pattern of the cap and frock the Clodpole had on at his christening ; who made the cockade to denote my boyhood ; how many yards of lace there were in it, and what sort of lace it was ; she remembers the colour of my first pair of breeches, and the very pattern of my buttons, which, by all accounts, appear to have been of the sugar-loaf shape ; — often do the tears trickle down THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 301 her cheeks when she relates what shocking chil- blains poor little master Bobby had in the hard weather, and how she used to bathe them, and anoint them, and chafe them with her hands, and wrap them up in her apron as I sat, crying and sobbing upon her lap, before the nursery fire ; — she knows exactly how T many nights she sat up with me when I had the measles, and the small pox, and when I cut my eye-teeth ; she can recount, and I believe often does, all the pranks of my childhood, and boyhood, and youth. But she is in all her glory when she describes the splendid and costly dresses which she remem- bers my grandfather and grandmother to have worn ; such gold and silver lace, as broad as one's hands ! rich silks that w T ould have stood an end of them- selves! — " Aye," (she will say sometimes,) " things were very different then ; — then a Duchess might be distinguished from a Milk-maid, and a Duke from a Valley-de-sham :— then the wages and hire of servants and apprentices were not all spent in dress as it is now a days, but w T as sent home to the relief of their aged parents, to prevent their becoming dependent on, or a burthen to their parishes, or laid up for times of sickness or want ; — but w r ho can wonder that things are as thev are, w T hen a shoe- 302 THINKS-I-TO MYSELF. maker's apprentice can have the assurance to dress like a lord, or a washer-woman's daughter like a lady, and not be ashamed of it, and their parents or their employers be such fools as to encourage it ?" — So will she continually run on, shaking her head, and lifting up her hands at the sad times and sad changes she has lived to witness ; — for as such she regards them. I had great apprehensions at first that she would have been the occasion of the death of my wife, or some of my children, not only from her over-fond attachment to them, but to certain ancient nursery prejudices.— >When my eldest child was born, though it was in the very middle of the month of July, she would have an enormous fire lighted in the room, and a warming pan held within the curtains of the bed, whenever there was any necessity to undraw them, so much as the space of two inches, for the purpose of introducing any supply of food, or drink, or medicine : so that had not the apothecary inter- posed pretty peremptorily, I verily think both Emily and her offspring would have been entirely suffo- cated: — then, the pap she made for the infant, thick enough for the spoon to stand upright in, was to be forced by boat fulls into the tiny stomach of the new born, to prevent the wind getting in ; and THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 303 when it had been introduced in such unmerciful quantities, as necessarily to occasion a degree of distension, so uneasy as to throw the poor child al- most into convulsions, more fuel was to be added to the flame, because it was a case proved in her own mind, that wind had got in nevertheless, and that a child could cry for nothing but wind, and wind could come from nothing but emptiness ; — so that the more she kept stuffing, the more the child cried, — and the more the child cried, the more she kept stuffing it. When, at last, by dint of stuffing and cramming, she had brought it to such a state of continual suf- fering and continual crying, that nothing seemed likely to appease it, she revealed to us this great nursery mystery, videlicet, that Providence had provided for such sort of infantine cryings, but one only cure in the w^hole compass of the universe ; and that this one and only cure and remedy was, a BIT OF A YOUNG ROASTED SUCKING PIG ! ! for which she w r ould have had of course a special mes- senger sent out, upon the fleetest horse in the stables, to rummage and explore all the pig-sties in the country round. [ It was m vain that I tried to laugh or to argue her out of any of these prepossessions : — I even took 304 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. the pains to describe to her, as well as I could, the narrow dimensions of an infant's stomach, and the minute vessels on which all its nourishment de- pended:— in a joking way, though most seriously convinced of its truth, I used often to tell her, that in all likelihood, old nurses and gossips had sent more human creatures out of life than either guns or swords, plague, pestilence, or famine, and that but for the blunders and mismanagement of such sort of good folks, half, if not two-thirds of the in- fants that have perished, w r ould, probably, have lived and done well ; — -but I might as well have talked to the wind : — it generally all ended in a, — * Don't tell me, my dear young gentleman, of your halves and your thirds, and your narrow stomachs, and small vessels, how should you men know any- thing about it? — Didn't /bring up you, and your sister, and Master Tommy, and Miss Jenny, ('till they were near six months old,) and should have brought up all the whole eleven, your mama had, had they not turned out so sickly and fit ty that there was no rearing them any-how?" She spoke truly enough, for, by all accounts, w r e were all sickly and fitty, and, I verily believe, no- thing but a very accidental strength of stomach in the case of my sister and myself, prevented our THINKS-1-TO-MYSELF. 305 going the way of the other nine, that is being killed with kindness; — stuffed and crammed and coddled out of this wicked world almost as soon as we were born into it. Much as I love and esteem the good old lady herself, and many of her contemporaries, I cannot but feel satisfied, that it will be a great blessing to posterity and future generations to be born, when, in the course of nature, and revolution of things, the whole race of staffers, and trammers, and cod- dlers *, are defunct and done away from the face of the earth : — I cannot call my nine brothers and sisters back again, but I will take all the care I can to prevent any of their nephews and nieces follow- ing them in the same premature manner, by seeing that they are reared in a way more evidently con- sonant to the plain dictates of nature ; and I w T ould advise every body else w r ho happens to feel any de- l * I include Coddlers, not that I would have infants starved either by cold or hunger, but that I conceive hot, and soft, and crowded beds, and heaps of flannel folded over their mouths, and ears, and noses, cannot be over favourable to the due admission of that aerial fluid on which most of the functions of life have hitherto been thonght to depend : — possibly, also, the stomach, and mouth, and throat, which often suffer the direst evils from being over-heated, might stand some chance of being a little cooler and more comfortable in the absence of such over- whelming incumbrances. X 306 THINKS-I-TO-MYSEM\ sire to have their children to live and do well, and to groiv up healthy and strong, to do the same ; that is, to keep an eye upon these particulars, and to be careful that every infant either has its own natural food, not prepared by old nurses, but by young nurses, that is, by Providence ; or, if they be by any invincible necessity deprived of that blessing, (nothing less than invincible necessity should deprive them of it,) that then the substitutes for that natural food be as like it as possible ; thin, light, never given too hastily, never in too large quantities at one time ; how like to all this, boats full of pap as thick as mud and perhaps as hot as fire, and as sweet as syrup, poured down a child's throat while lying flat upon its back, spirituous liquors, spices, beer, wine, inces- sant doses of Godfrey s Cordial, Dalby's Carmin- ative, &c. &c. &c. are, I leave every body possessed of common sense, and hitherto unprejudiced, to judge and determine. I have inserted all this, merely, that nobody may grudge the money they shall have paid for my book, because, though I believe almost every phy- sician in the kingdom would now give the same advice, yet not without a guinea fee, at least half as much again as my book is to cost; and besides, if any infants in consequence of this hint, should THINKS-l-TO-MYSELF. 30? be saved from the thrush, or from jits, or from humours, or from painful dentition, so much crying, and roaring, by day and by night, will infallibly be prevented ; so much more peace and quiet, of course, will take place in every family ; good mo- thers will be made more happy, and bad mothers will be less teazed ; good nurses will get more rest, and cross nurses will be the seldomer provoked, and every poor little infant that comes shivering and shaking into this strange world of our's, will be sure to have, not only all its pains and perils exceedingly abridged, but by giving less trouble, and being better enabled to make its own way, will stand so much better a chance of having more friends and fewer enemies, more good words and more good wishes, than could ever be the case un- der the old stuffing, overfeeding, citing, fretting, dying way of going on ; — add to all this, less phy- sic will be necessary, and therefore less of the plague and trouble of administering it, and now judge what valuable advice I have given you*; * By you, I mean, at least, all persons already married, all that are going to be married, all that expect to be married, all that mean to be married, all that wish to be married, all that ought to be mar- ried, and all that have any influence over those that are married: — I scarce think that even professed old maids and professed old bache. lors are quite excluded, because, 1 am confident, many of the latter x2 308 THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. though certainly at the expence of a large digres- sion from my main work, — to which it is highly necessary now to return. The reader will easily suppose from what I have expressed of our dislike to the bustle and noise of the metropolis, that the principal part of our time was passed at Grumblethorpe, especially as long as my worthy parents lived. — No events in the whole course of my life affected me more deeply (as I hope my readers will believe) than those which bereft me of my excellent parents : — whenever I had allowed myself to dwell upon the painful pros- pect of their separation, it had always occurred to me, that which ever went first, the other would not long survive ; — and so it turned out to be : they have nerves liable to be affected by the cries of an infant either in the way of sympathy or provocation, (I hope, mostly of the former, ) and I verily believe, half, if not two-thirds of those piercing, and penetrat- ing, and pitiful cries might be prevented, not in great houses only, but in our cottages, and poor-houses, if a proper system were gene- rally adopted in regard to the food, mode of feeding, clothing and management of infants; while the grand secret of such an improve- ment, I will venture to say, merely consists in causing a little com- mon sense to prevail over inveterate prejudice, and nature over super- stition; — a hard undertaking, I know, but not hopeless, with the assistance of such advice as modern practitioners have done well to communicate in very sensible and perspicuous publications. — As little tiny infants and brute beasts cannot speak for themselves, Thinks- 1- to-myself, why mayn't I speak for them, if an opportunity offer? THINKS-I-TO-MYSELF. 309 had lived together from the first moment of their union, in such a state of complete harmony and agreement, that it was a most obvious conclusion to draw, that separate and apart from each other, they could not possibly exist on this side the grave. My poor mother died of a lingering illness, the foundation of which was laid, probably, in her elose attendance on my sister, the third year after her marriage, during a violent fit of sickness. — No- thing could prevent her sitting up with her, night after night, though it was in the depth of winter, not only that she might be in the way to adminis- ter to my sister's own wants, but that she might superintend occasionally what was going on in the nursery, where there were two young infants ill also, whom my sister could not bear, (as is too commonly the case,) to leave entirely to servants. Just as my sister began to recover, my mother became ill, and from one failure and ailment to another, gradually sunk into a state of debility, from which, no care, nor art, nor remedy could possibly restore her. [ There never existed a better mother, there never existed a better wife ! — I dare not attempt to draw her picture myself, it has already been delineated 310 TIHNKS-1-TO-MYSELF. by another, whose painting I shall adopt, most happy to avail myself of it. — » £ • A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATIOK V *C« ■» XtifelHis*' o A'" 5 111 Thomson Parte Drive Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: April 2009 y v * Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111 *V . O N O ^ ''^U ^^ ** v ^ ..** ,v* 1^°* '^^&> a- " 7 * x^ „ » o . •* A> ^