LITERARY FLUNKEYISM
We sink in our own estimation as we sit down to write; we blush involuntarily, although we are in the deepest solitude; we look at our arm, in dread lest we should find a napkin hanging on it, in true waiterish attitude; we rush to the glass to ascertain whether our neck is encompassed by the conventional little white tie; and we have to look around us. No wonder! For just look here! Did audacity ever go so far? Was impertinence ever so consummate?
A gentleman, disengaged after six p.m., requires evening employment, in any capacity not menial. Good correspondent and accountant, draughtsman and composer. Would undertake London correspondence of a country paper, write critiques, etc. Terms moderate.—Address, W., etc.
A “gentleman” who wants employment “in any capacity not menial,” “would undertake London correspondence of a country paper, write critiques,” etc. Obviously the advertiser considers literature something a little above the work of a menial. We are, of course, obliged for this admission. Nevertheless, we confess the above advertisement has given us some doubts as to whether we shan’t find Jeames, with his fine leg, on Grub-street pavement one of these days. We would advise “W.” to go to a Dutchman, who advertises that he can supply “literary hacks”; the literary livery stables are situated somewhere up in Bloomsbury; and, no doubt, for a small sum he may be groomed down any time after six, and, with the help of a farthing rushlight in a dark lantern, find his way up Parnassus. We can tell him, however, that it would be advisable to avoid the Temple of Fun, as individuals similarly constituted to himself have before now been severely kicked, as a reward for their audacity, in that neighbourhood.
Fun, 1863.