American literature -- 19th century -- Anecdotes, facetiae, satire, etc.; American poetry -- 19th century
As for such of our poets as find not their names mentioned once in my
pages, with praises or blames, let them SEND IN THEIR CARDS, without
further DELAY, to my friend G. P. PUTNAM, Esquire, in Broadway, where
a list will be kept with the strictest regard to the day and the hour
of receiving the card. Then, taking them up as I chance to have time
(that is if their names can be twisted in rhyme), I will honestly
give each his PROPER POSITION, at the rate of ONE AUTHOR to each NEW
EDITION. Thus a PREMIUM is offered sufficiently HIGH (as the magazines
say when they tell their best lie) to induce bards to CLUB their
resources and buy the balance of every edition, until they have all of
them fairly been run through the mill.
One word to such readers (judicious and wise) as read books with
something behind the mere eyes, of whom in the country, perhaps, there
are two, including myself, gentle reader, and you. All the characters
sketched in this slight _jeu d’esprit_, though it may be they seem,
here and there, rather free and drawn from a somewhat too cynical
standpoint, are _meant_ to be faithful, for that is the grand point,
and none but an owl would feel sore at a rub from a jester who tells
you, without any subterfuge, that he sits in Diogenes’ tub.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
A PRELIMINARY NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION
Though it well may be reckoned, of all composition, the species at once
most delightful and healthy, is a thing which an author, unless he be
wealthy and willing to pay for that kind of delight, is not, in all
instances, called on to write, though there are, it is said, who, their
spirits to cheer, slip in a new title-page three times a year, and in
this way snuff up an imaginary savor of that sweetest of dishes, the
popular favor,--much as if a starved painter should fall to and treat
Ugolino inside to a picture of meat.
You remember (if not, pray turn backward and look) that, in writing the
preface which ushered my book, I treated you, excellent Public, not
merely with a cool disregard, but downright cavalierly. Now I would not
take back the least thing I then said, though I thereby could butter
both sides of my bread, for I never could see that an author owed aught
to the people he solaced, diverted, or taught; and, as for mere fame, I
have long ago learned that the persons by whom it is finally earned are
those with whom _your_ verdict weighed not a pin, unsustained by the
higher court sitting within.
But I wander from what I intended to say,--that you have, namely, shown
such a liberal way of thinking and so much æsthetic perception of
anonymous worth in the handsome reception you gave to my book, spite
of some private piques (having bought the first thousand in barely
two weeks), that I think, past a doubt, if you measured the phiz of
yours most devotedly, Wonderful Quiz, you would find that its vertical
section was shorter, by an inch and two tenths, or ’twixt that and a
quarter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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