The short papers which are to be found at the beginning of the volume were indispensable to the form of publication and the limited extent of each number, as no story of length or interest could be begun until “The Clock was wound up and fairly going.”
The Author would fain hope that there are not many who would disturb Master Humphrey and his friends in their seclusion; who would have them forego their present enjoyments, to exchange those confidences with each other, the absence of which is the foundation of their mutual trust. For when their occupation is gone, when their tales are ended, and but their personal histories remain, the chimney corner will be growing cold, and the clock will be about to stop for ever.
One other word in his own person, and he returns to the more grateful task of speaking for those imaginary people whose little world lies within these pages.
It may be some consolation to those well-disposed ladies and gentlemen who, in the interval between the conclusion of his last work and the commencement of this, originated a report that he had gone raving mad, to know that it spread as rapidly as could be desired, and was made the subject of considerable dispute; not as regarded the fact, for that was as thoroughly established as the duel between Sir Peter Teazle and Charles Surface in the School for Scandal; but with reference to the unfortunate lunatic’s place of confinement; one party insisting positively on Bedlam, another inclining favourably towards St. Luke’s, and a third swearing strongly by the asylum at Hanwell; while each backed its case by circumstantial evidence of the same excellent nature as that brought to bear by Sir Benjamin Backbite on the pistol shot which struck against the little bronze bust of Shakespeare over the fireplace, grazed out of the window at a right angle, and wounded the postman, who was coming to the door with a double letter from Northamptonshire.
It will be a great affliction to these ladies and gentlemen to learn—and he is so unwilling to give pain, that he would not whisper the circumstance on any account, did he not feel in a manner bound to do so, in gratitude to those amongst his friends who were at the trouble of being angry at the absurdity that their inventions made the Author’s home unusually merry, and gave rise to an extraordinary number of jests, of which he will only add, in the words of the good Vicar of Wakefield, “I cannot say whether we had more wit among us than usual; but I am sure we had more laughing.”
Devonshire Terrace, York Gate, September, 1840.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND VOLUME
“An author,” says Fielding, in his introduction to Tom Jones, “ought to consider himself, not as the gentleman who gives a private or eleemosynary treat, but rather as one who keeps a public ordinary, to which all persons are welcome for their money. Men who pay for what they eat, will insist on gratifying their palates, however nice and whimsical these may prove; and if everything is not agreeable to their taste, will challenge a right to censure, to abuse, and to damn their dinner without control.
“To prevent, therefore, giving offence to their customers by any such disappointment, it hath been usual with the honest and well-meaning host to provide a bill of fare, which all persons may peruse at their first entrance into the house; and having thence acquainted themselves with the entertainment which they may expect, may either stay and regale with what is provided for them, or may depart to some other ordinary better accommodated to their taste.”
In the present instance, the host or author, in opening his new establishment, provided no bill of fare. Sensible of the difficulties of such an undertaking in its infancy, he preferred that it should make its own way, silently and gradually, or make no way at all. It has made its way, and is doing such a thriving business that nothing remains for him but to add, in the words of the good old civic ceremony, now that one dish has been discussed and finished, and another smokes upon the board, that he drinks to his guests in a loving-cup, and bids them a hearty welcome.