Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

Roundabout Papersnot the honor to know my next-door neighbor, but Imake no doubt that he receives his friends at dinner; Isee his wife and children pass constantly; I even knowthe carriages of some of the people who call upon him,and could tell their names. Now, suppose his servantswere to tell mine what the doings are next door, whocomes to dinner, what is eaten and said, and I were topublish an account of these transactions in a newspaper,I could assuredly get money for the report; butought I to write it, and what would you think of me fordoing so?And suppose, Mr. Saturday Reviewer—you censormorum, you who pique yourself (and justly and honorablyin the main) upon your character of gentleman, aswell as of writer, suppose, not that you yourself inventand indite absurd twaddle about gentlemen’s privatemeetings and transactions, but pick this wretched garbageout of a New York street, and hold it up for yourreaders’ amusement—don’t you think, my friend, thatyou might have been better employed? Here, in my SaturdayReview, and in an American paper subsequentlysent to me, I light, astonished, on an account of thedinners of my friend and publisher, which are describedas “tremendously heavy,” of the conversation (whichdoes not take place), and of the guests assembled atthe table. I am informed that the proprietor of theCornhill, and the host on these occasions, is “a verygood man, but totally unread;” and that on my askinghim whether Dr. Johnson was dining behind the screen,he said, “God bless my soul, my dear sir, there’s no personby the name of Johnson here, nor any one behindthe screen,” and that a roar of laughter cut him short.I am informed by the same New York correspondent thatI have touched up a contributor’s article; that I oncesaid to a literary gentleman, who was proudly pointingto an anonymous article as his writing, “Ah! I thought Irecognized your hoof in it.” I am told by the same authoritythat the Cornhill Magazine “shows symptoms ofbeing on the wane,” and having sold nearly a hundredthousand copies, he (the correspondent) “should thinkforty thousand was now about the mark.” Then the gracefulwriter passes on to the dinners, at which it appears54