Wherein of hundreds topp’d, thousands lagg’d;
And of the innumerable teazings thou has book’d.
thy ‘Life in London,’ alone, is a history of such magnitude, that, if once developed, the ‘Adventures of Robinson Crusoe’ must be forgotten. O teach me, Townsey, to be as down in my portraits as thou art in giving all the light and shade of criminality to the nightly mysteries of the wary Fence when pressing for a conviction; and likewise, to keep as sharp a look out after characters in the ball-room of the Corinthians as thy penetrating eyes scour the abodes of the great when ‘at home’ to make all right. I ask no more than:
Sit mihi fas audita loqui; sit numine vestro
Pandere res altâ terra et caligine mersas.”
Pierce Egan—THE AUTHOR—Then more particularly appeals to the Brothers R. and G. Cruikshank and to ☞ HIMSELF!!! as BOXIANA, thus:—
“In all your varied portraiture of the interesting scenes of Life, let me invoke thy superior talents, Bob and George Cruikshank (thou Gillray[8] of the day, and of Don Saltero[9] greatness), to my anxious aid. Indeed, I have need of all your illustrative touches; and may we be hand-and-glove together in depicting the richness of nature, which so wantonly, at times, plays off her freaks upon half-famished bone-rakers and cinder sifters round the dust hill, that we may be found, en passant, so identified with the scene in question, as almost to form a part of the group. May you also, Bob and George, grapple with Hogarthian energy, in displaying tout a la monde the sublime and finished part of creation, whether screwed up to a semi-tone of ART, or in nobly delineating, what must always be a welcome visitor at every residence, and likewise an admired portrait over all the chimney-pieces in the kingdom—a Perfect Gentleman. But, before I dismiss you to your studies, bear it in remembrance, ‘nothing to extenuate, or set down aught in malice;’ yet be tremblingly alive to the shrug of the fastidious critic, who might, in his sneer, remark, that Caricature would be as much out of time and place in holding up to ridicule the interior of the religious good man’s closet, as it is animatedly required in giving all the rusticity and fun incident to the humours of a country life.”
—“And, thou, O BOXIANA! my dearest friend and well-wisher, thou beloved companion of all my hours, thou ‘note book’ of my Mind, and ‘pen-and-ink remembrancer’ of my passing scenes, whether in splendid palaces, lost in admiration over the fascinating works of art, or in diving into the humble cellar, passing an hour with some of mankind’s worthiest children, poor, but contented and happy,—be thou my guide and assistant! Do not desert me, at peep o’ day, when drowsy Watchmen quit their posts, and coffee-shops vomit forth their snoozing customers—those out-casts of society—to whom a table is a luxury to rest their thoughtless heads upon, and whose:—
Dry desert of a leather pocket book does not contain
A solitary farthing!
Be also at my elbow, upon the strut in Hyde Park, on Sunday’s stare, when Sol’s bright rays over Fashion’s splendid scene gives such a brilliancy of appearance. And be thou near to me, should midnight Covent Garden rows claim my attention, when noisy rattles collect together the dissipated ramblers touched with the potent juice of Bacchus, and entangled with hoarse Cyprians in the last stage of existence, till dragged to the watch-house, where the black hole gives a limit to their depravity of exclamation. In this respect, BOXIANA, let thine ear be as nice as Spagnioletti’s; anxious, like this great master of the Cremona, to give all the force and beauty of composition, but carefully to avoid a note being out of tune. Then, for once, let me entreat of thee, in soliciting thy assistance, that thou wilt take off the gloves, quit the prize ring, put down thy steamer, and for awhile dispense with thy Daffy, but, above all, stear clear from the slang,[10] except, indeed, where the instances decidedly call it forth, in order to produce an effect, and emphasis of character. Then, fare thee well?”
Vive vale—si quid novisti rectius istis,
Candidus imperti; si non, his utere mecum.—Horace.
—“Farewell and be happy—if you know of any precepts better than these, be so candid as to communicate them, if not, partake of these with me.”