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- 12335
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- 2026-01-30T03:48:16.157Z
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- 12279
- text
- FRAGMENTS FROM A WRITING-DESK
CLIPPING FROM THE ‘DEMOCRATIC PRESS AND LANSINGBURGH ADVERTISER’
No. 1
LANSINGBURGH, N.Y.,
_Saturday, May 4, 1839_.
MY DEAR M----, I can imagine you seated on that dear, delightful,
old-fashioned sofa, your head supported by its luxurious padding, and
with feet aloft on the aspiring back of that straight-limbed,
stiff-necked, quaint old chair, which, as our facetious W---- assured
me, was the identical seat in which old Burton composed his _Anatomy of
Melancholy_. I see you reluctantly raise your optics from the
ugh-clasped [_sic_] quarto which encumbers your lap, to receive the
package which the servant hands you, and can almost imagine that I see
those beloved features illumined for a moment with an expression of joy,
as you read the superscription of your gentle protégé. Lay down, I
beseech you, that odious black-lettered volume and let not its musty and
withered leaves sully the virgin purity and whiteness of the sheet which
is the vehicle of so much good sense, sterling thought, and chaste and
elegant sentiment.
You remember how you used to rate me for my hang-dog modesty, my
_mauvaise honte_, as my Lord Chesterfield would style it. Well! I have
determined that hereafter you shall not have occasion again to inflict
upon me those flattering appellations of ‘Fool!’ ‘Dolt!’ ‘Sheep!’ which
in your indignation you used to shower upon me, with a vigour and a
facility which excited my wonder, while it provoked my resentment.
And how do you imagine that I rid myself of this annoying hindrance?
Why, truly, by coming to the conclusion that in this pretty corpus of
mine was lodged every manly grace; that my limbs were modelled in the
symmetry of the Phidian Jupiter; my countenance radiant with the beams
of wit and intelligence, and my whole person the envy of the beaux, the
idol of the women, and the admiration of the tailor. And then my mind!
why, sir, I have discovered it to be endowed with the most rare and
extraordinary powers, stored with universal knowledge, and embellished
with every polite accomplishment.
Pollux! what a comfortable thing is a good opinion of one’s self when I
walk the Broadway of our village with a certain air, that puts me down
at once in the estimation of any intelligent stranger who may chance to
meet me, as a _distingué_ of the purest water, a blade of the true
temper, a blood of the first quality! Lord! how I despise the little
sneaking vermin who dodge along the street as though they were so many
footmen or errand-boys; who have never learned to carry the head erect
in conscious importance, but hang that noblest of the human members as
though it had been boxed by some virago of an Amazon; who shuffle along
the walk, with a quick, uneasy step, a hasty, clownish motion, which by
the magnitude of the contrast, set off to advantage my own slow and
magisterial gait, which I can at pleasure vary to an easy, abandoned
sort of carriage, or to the more engaging, alert, and lively walk, to
suit the varieties of time, occasion, and company.
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