Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

Thackeraynow, appears in a twilight glimmer, in which waiters areseen ransacking the dessert, and rescuing the spoons.His lordship and the Lady Mayoress go into their privateapartments. The robes are doffed, the collar and whiteribbons are removed. The Mayor becomes a man, and ispretty surely in a fluster about the speeches which hehas just uttered; remembering too well now, wretchedcreature, the principal points which he didn’t make whenhe rose to speak. He goes to bed to headache, to care, torepentance, and, I dare say, to a dose of something whichhis body-physician has prescribed for him. And there areever so many men in the city who fancy that man happy!Now, suppose that all through that 9th of Novemberhis lordship has had a racking rheumatism, or a toothache,let us say, during all dinner-time—through whichhe has been obliged to grin and mumble his poor oldspeeches. Is he enviable? Would you like to change withhis lordship? Suppose that bumper which his goldenfootman brings him, instead i’fackins of ypocras or canary,contains some abomination of senna? Away! Removethe golden goblet, insidious cupbearer! You nowbegin to perceive the gloomy moral which I am about todraw.Last month we sang the song of glorification, androde in the chariot of triumph. It was all very well. Itwas right to huzza, and be thankful, and cry, Bravo, ourside! and besides, you know, there was the enjoymentof thinking how pleased Brown, and Jones, and Robinson(our dear friends) would be at this announcement ofsuccess. But now that the performance is over, my goodsir, just step into my private room, and see that it is notall pleasure—this winning of successes. Cast your eyeover those newspapers, over those letters. See what thecritics say of your harmless jokes, neat little trim sentences,and pet waggeries! Why, you are no better thanan idiot; you are drivelling; your powers have left you;this always overrated writer is rapidly sinking to, &c.This is not pleasant; but neither is this the point. Itmay be the critic is right, and the author wrong. It maybe that the archbishop’s sermon is not so fine as someof those discourses twenty years ago which used to delightthe faithful in Granada. Or it may be (pleasing41