The English Spy.

by Bernard Blackmantle.

INTRODUCTION.

"The proper study of mankind is man."

A RHAPSODY.

Life's busy scene I sing! Its countenance, and form, and varied hue, drawn within the compa.s.s of the eye. No tedious voyage, or weary pilgrimage o'er burning deserts, or tempestuous seas, my progress marks, to trace great nature's sources to the fount, and bare her secrets to the common view.

In search of wonders, let the learn'd embark, From lordly Elgin, to lamented Park, To find out what I perhaps some river's course, Or antique fragments of a marble horse; While I, more humble, local scenes portray, And paint the men and manners of the day.

Life's a theatre, man the chief actor, and the source from which the dramatist must cull his choicest beauties, painting up to nature the varied scenes which mark the changeful courses of her motley groups.

Here she opes her volume to the view of contemplative minds, and spreads her treasures forth, decked in all the variegated tints that Flora, G.o.ddess of the flowery mead and silvery dell, with many coloured hue, besprinkles the luxuriant land.

Here, reader, will we travel forth, and in our journey make survey of all that's interesting and instructive. Man's but the creature of a little hour, the phantom of a transitory life; p.r.o.ne to every ill, subject to every woe; and oft the more eccentric in his sphere, as rare abilities may gild his brow, setting form, law, and order at defiance.

His gla.s.s a third decayed 'fore reason shines, and ere perfection crowns maturity, he sinks forgotten in his parent dust. Such then is man, uncertain as the wind, by nature formed the creature of caprice, and as Atropos wills, day by day, we number to our loss some mirth-enlivening soul, whose talents gave a l.u.s.tre to the scene.-Serious and solemn, thoughts be hence away! imagination wills that playful satire reign:--by sportive fancy led, we take the field.

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PREFACE, IN IMITATION OF THE FIRST SATIRE OF PERSIUS.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND HIS FRIEND.

Author. However dangerous, or however vain, I am resolved.

Friend. You'll not offend again?

Author. I will, by Jove!

Friend. Take my advice, reflect; Who'll buy your sketches 1

Author. Many, I expect.

Friend. I fear but few, unless, Munchausen-like, You've something strange, that will the public strike: Men with six heads, or monsters with twelve tails, Who patter flash, for nothing else prevails In this dull age.

Author. Then my success is certain; I think you'll say so when I draw the curtain, And, presto! place before your wond'ring eyes A race of beings that must 'cite surprise; The strangest compound truth and contradiction Owe to dame Nature, or the pen of Action; Where wit and folly, pride and modest worth, Go hand in hand, or jostle at a birth; Where prince, peer, peasant, politician meet, And beard each other in the public street; ~6~~ Where ancient forms, though still admired, Are phantoms that have long expired; Where science droops 'fore sovereign folly, And arts are sick with melancholy; Where knaves gain wealth, and honest fellows, By hunger pinch'd, blow knav'ry's bellows; Where wonder rises upon wonder--

Friend. Hold! Or you may leave no wonders to be told. Your book, to sell, must have a subtle plot--Mark the Great Unknown, wily *****

****: Print in America, publish at Milan; There's nothing like this Scotch-Athenian plan, To hoax the c.o.c.kney lack-brains.

Author. It shall be: Books, like Madeira, much improve at sea; 'Tis said it clears them from the mist and smell Of modern Athens, so says sage Cadell, Whose dismal tales of shipwreck, stress of weather, Sets all divine _Nonsensia_ mad together; And, when they get the dear-bought novel home, "They love it for the dangers it has overcome."

Friend. I like your plan: "art sure there's no offence?"

Author. None that's intended to wound common-sense. For your uncommon knaves who rule the town, Your M.P.'s, M.D.'s, R.A.'s and silk gown, Empirics in all arts, every degree, Just Satire whispers are fair game for me.

Friend. The critic host beware!

Author. Wherefore, I pray? "The cat will mew, the dog will have his day." Let them bark on! who heeds their currish note Knows not the world--they howl, for food, by rote.

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REFLECTIONS, ADDRESSED TO THOSE WHO CAN THINK.

Reflections of an Author--Weighty Reasons for writing-- Magister artis ingeniique largitor Venter--Choice of Subject considered--Advice of Index, the Book-seller--Of the Nature of Prefaces--How to commence a new Work.

Author (solus). I must write--my last sovereign has long since been transferred to the safe keeping of mine hostess, to whom I have the honor to be obliged. I just caught a glance of her inflexible countenance this morning in pa.s.sing the parlour door; and methought I could perceive the demon aspect of suspicion again spreading his corrosive murky hue over her furrowed front. The enlivening appearance of my golden amba.s.sador had for a few days procured me a faint smile of complacency; but the spell is past, and I shall again be doomed to the humiliation ~8~~ of hearing Mrs Martha Bridget's morning lectures on the necessity of punctuality. Well, she must be quieted, (i.e.) promise crammed, (satisfied, under existing circ.u.mstances, is impossible): I know it will require no little skill to obtain fresh supplies from her stores, without the master-key which unlocks the flinty heart; but _nil desperandum_, he who can brave a formidable army of critics, in pursuit of the bubble fame, may at least hope to find wit enough to quiet the interested apprehensions of an old woman. And yet how mortifying is the very suspicion of inattention and disrespect. I have rung six times for my breakfast, and as many more for my boots, before either have made their appearance; the first has indeed just arrived, with a lame apology from mine hostess, that the gentleman on the first floor is a very impetuous fellow, requires prompt attention, gives a great deal of trouble--but--then he pays a great deal of money, and above all, is very punctual: here is my _quietus_ at once; the last sentence admits of no reply from a pennyless author. My breakfast table is but the spectre of former times;--no eggs on each side of my cup, or a plate of fresh Lynn shrimps, with an inviting salt odour, that would create an appet.i.te in the stomach of an invalid; a choice bit of dried salmon, or a fresh cut off the roll of some violet-scented Epping b.u.t.ter;--all have disappeared; nay, even the usual allowance of cream has degenerated into skimmed milk, and that is supplied in such cautious quant.i.ties, that I can scarce eke it out to colour my three cups of inspiring bohea.

(A knock at the door.) That single rap at the street door is very like the loud determined knock of a dun. The servant is ascending the stairs--it must be so--she advances upon the second flight;--good heavens, how stupid!--I particularly told her I should not be in town to any of these people for a month. The inattention of servants is unbearable; they can tell fibs ~9~~ enough to suit their own purposes, but a little white one to serve a gentleman lodger, to put off an impertinent tradesman, or save him from the toils of a sheriffs officer, is sure to be marred in the relation, or altogether forgotten. I'll lock my chamber door, however, by way of precaution. (Servant knocking.) "What do you want?" "Mr. Index, sir, the little gentleman in black." "Show him up, Betty, directly." The key is instantly turned; the door set wide open; and I am again seated in comfort at my table: the solicitude, fear, and anxiety, attendant upon the apprehensions of surprise, a bailiff, and a prison, all vanish in a moment.

"My dear Index, you are welcome; the last person I expected, although the first I could have wished to have seen: to what fortunate circ.u.mstance am I to attribute the honor of this friendly visit?"

"Business, sir; I am a man of business: your last publication has sold pretty well, considering how dreadfully it was cut up in the reviews; I have some intention of reprinting a short edition, if you are not too exorbitant in your demands; not that I think the whole number will be sold, but there is a chance of clearing the expenses. A portrait by Wageman, the announcement of a second edition, with additions, may help it off; but then these additional costs will prevent my rewarding your merits to the extent I am sensible you deserve."

"Name your own terms, Index, for after all you know it must come to that, and I am satisfied you will be as liberal as you can afford." Put in this way, the most penurious of the speculating tribe in paper and print would have strained a point, to overcome their natural infirmity: with Index it was otherwise; nature had formed him with a truly liberal heart: the practice of the trade, and the necessary caution attendant upon bookselling speculations, only operated as a check to the n.o.ble-minded generosity of the ~10~~ man, without implanting in his bosom the avarice and extortion generally pursued by his brethren.

The immediate subject of his visit arranged to our mutual satisfaction, I ventured to inquire what style of work was most likely to interest the taste of the town. 'The town itself--satire, sir, fashionable satire.

If you mean to grow rich by writing in the present day, you must first learn to be satirical; use the lash, sir, as all the great men have done before you, and then, like Canning in the Cabinet, or Gifford and Jeffery as reviewers, or Byron and Southey as poets, you will be followed more from the fear of your pen than from the splendour of your talents, the consistency of your conduct, or the morality of your principles. Sir, if you can but use the tomahawk skilfully, your fortune is certain. '_Sic itur ad astra_.' Read Blackwood's Noctea Ambrosiance.

Take the town by surprise, folly by the ears; 'the glory, jest, and riddle of the world' is man; use your knowledge of this ancient volume rightly, and you may soon mount the car of fortune, and drive at random wherever your fancy dictates. Bear in mind the Greek proverb, '_Mega biblion, mega kakon_.' In your remarks, select such persons who, from their elevated situations in society, ought to be above reproof, and whose vices are, therefore, more worthy of public condemnation:

'------------Ridiculum acri Fortius ac melius magnas plerumque secat res.'

By this means you will benefit the state, and improve the morals of society. The most wholesome truths may be told with pleasantry. Satire, to be severe, needs not to be scurrilous. The approval of the judicious will always follow the ridicule which is directed against error, ignorance, and folly."

How long little Index might have continued in this strain I know not, if I had not ventured to suggest ~11~~ that the course he pointed out was one of great difficulty, and considerable personal hazard; that to arrive at fortune by such means, an author must risk the sacrifice of many old connexions, and incur no inconsiderable dangers; that great caution would be necessary to escape the fangs of the forensic tribe, and that in voluntarily thrusting his nose into such a nest of hornets, it would be hardly possible to escape being severely stung in retaliation. "_Pulchrum est accusari ah accusandis_," said my friend, the bookseller, "who has suffered more by the fashionable world than yourself? Have you not dissipated a splendid patrimony in a series of the most liberal entertainments? Has not your generous board been graced with the presence of royalty? and the banquet enriched by the attendant stars of n.o.bility, from the duke to the right honorable knight commander. And have you not since felt the most cruel neglect from these your early a.s.sociates, and much obliged friends, with no crime but poverty, with no reproach but the want of prudence? Have you not experienced ingrat.i.tude and persecution in every shape that human baseness could find ingenuity to inflict? And can you hesitate to avail yourself of the n.o.ble revenge in your power, when it combines the advantages of being morally profitable both to yourself and society?

'------------Velat materna tempora myrto.'

Virg.

'When Vice the shelter of a mask disdain'd, When Folly triumph'd, and a Nero reign'd, Petronius rose satiric, yet polite, And show'd the glaring monster full in sight; To public mirth exposed the imperial beast, And made his wanton court the common jest.'"

With this quotation, delivered with good emphasis, little Index bade me good morning, and left me impressed with no mean opinion of his friendship, ~12~~ and with an increased admiration of his knowledge of the world.

But how (thought I) am I to profit by his advice? In what shape shall I commence my eccentric course? A good general at the head of a large army, on the eve of a general battle, with the enemy full in view, feels less embarra.s.sment than a young author finds in marshalling his crude ideas, and placing the raw recruits of the brain in any thing like respectable order. For the t.i.tle, that is quite a matter of business, and depends more upon the bookseller's opinion of what may be thought attractive than any affinity it may possess to the work itself.

Dedications are, thanks to the economy of fashion, out of date: great men have long since been laughed into good sense in that particular. A preface (if there be one) should partake something of the spirit of the work; for if it be not brief, lively, and humorous, it is ten to one but your reader falls asleep before he enters upon chapter the first, and when he wakes, fears to renew his application, lest he should be again caught napping. Long introductions are like lengthy prayers before meals to hungry men, they are mumbled over with unintelligible rapidity, or altogether omitted, for the more solid gratifications of the stomach, or the enjoyments of the mind. In what fantastic shape and countenance then shall an author appear to obtain general approbation? or in what costume is he most likely to insure success?

If he a.s.sumes a fierce and haughty front, his readers are perhaps offended with his temerity, and the critics enraged at his a.s.surance.