[2]. I have seen in a new novel a minute recital of a very affecting soliloquy pronounced with appropriate gesticulation by a fine young man while he was “pacing about” a large room in a castle; the thunder meanwhile roaring, and the rain pattering at the casements. In this castle there was at the time no other living person; and the soliloquy was so spoken as his dying words immediately before he shot himself. As there was nobody else in the castle during the catastrophe, his affecting words were never divulged till this novel made its appearance—leaving the ingenious reader to infer the many invisible spies and tell-tales that survey our most secret movements.
On the other hand, I must own (even against myself) that the writing of mere common-place truths requires no talent whatsoever! it is quite a humdrum, straight-forward, dull custom, which any person may attain. Besides, matter of fact is not at all in vogue just now: the disrepute under which truth in general at present labours, in all departments and branches of literature, has put it quite out of fashion even among the savans:—so that chemistry and mathematics are almost the only subjects, on the certainty of which the “nobility, gentry, and public at large,” appear to place any very considerable reliance.
Having thus, I hope, proved my candour at my own cost, the deduction is self-evident—namely, that the unfortunate authenticity of these sketches must debar them from any competition with the tales and tattle of unsophisticated invention: when, for instance, scandal is true, it is (as some ladies have assured me) considered by the whole sex as scarcely worth listening to, and actually requiring at least very considerable exaggeration to render it at all amusing! I therefore greatly fear I may not, in this instance, experience so much of their favour as I am always anxious to obtain: my only consolation is, that when their desire to indulge an amiable appetite for scandal is very ardent, they may find ample materials in every bookseller’s shop and haut-ton society to gratify the passion.
I feel now necessitated to recur to another point, and I do it at the risk of being accused of egotism. I hope, however, I can advance a good reason for my proceeding; namely, that, on reading over some of the articles whereof this mélange is composed, I freely admit, that if I were not very intimately acquainted with myself, I might be led at least into a puzzle as to the writer’s genuine sentiments on many points of theology and politics. Now, I wish, seriously speaking, to avoid, on these subjects, all ambiguity; and therefore, as responsible for the opinions put forth in the following Sketches, I beg to state, that I consider myself strictly orthodox both in politics and theology: that is to say, I profess to be a sound Protestant, without bigotry; and an hereditary royalist, without ultraism. Liberty I love—Democracy I hate: Fanaticism I denounce! These principles I have ever held and avowed, and they are confirmed by time and observation. I own that I have been what is generally called a courtier, and I have been also what is generally called a patriot; but I never was either unqualifiedly. I always thought, and I think still, that they never should, and never need be (upon fair principles) opposed to each other. I can also see no reason why there may not be patriot kings as well as patriot subjects—a patriot minister, indeed, may be more problematical.
In my public life, I have met with but one transaction that even threatened to make my patriotism overbalance my loyalty: I allude to the purchase and sale of the Irish Parliament, called a Union, which I ever regarded as one of the most flagrant public acts of corruption on the records of history, and certainly the most mischievous to this empire. I believe very few men sleep the sounder for having supported the measure; though some, it is true, went to sleep a good deal sooner than they expected when they carried it into execution.
I must also observe that, as to the detail of politics, I feel now very considerable apathy. My day for actual service is past; and I shall only further allude, as a simple casuist, to the slang terms in which it has become the fashion to dress up the most important subjects of British statistics—subjects on which certain of these Sketches appear to have a remote bearing, and on which my ideas might possibly be misunderstood.
I wish it therefore to be considered as my humble opinion, that what, in political slang, is termed Radical Reform, is, in reality, proximate revolution:—Universal Suffrage, inextinguishable uproar:—and Annual Parliaments, periodical bloodshed.[[3]] My doubts as a casuist, with these impressions on my mind, must naturally be, how the orderly folks of Great Britain would relish such pastimes?—I do not extend the query to the natives of my own country, because, since His Majesty was there, nobody has taken much notice of them: besides, the poor people in Ireland having very little to eat and no amusement at all, the aforesaid entertainments might divert them, or at least their hunger, and of course be extremely acceptable to a great body of the population.