Old Friends: Essays in Epistolary Parody

Part 1

Transcribed from the 1890 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

OLD FRIENDS

ESSAYS IN EPISTOLARY PARODY

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BY ANDREW LANG

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LONDON

LONGMAN’S, GREEN, AND CO. AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET 1890

All rights reserved

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PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE LONDON

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MISS RHODA BROUGHTON

PREFACE

THE studies in this volume originally appeared in the “St. James’s Gazette.” Two, from a friendly hand, have been omitted here by the author of the rest, as non sua poma. One was by Mr. RICHARD SWIVELLER to a boon companion and brother in the lyric Apollo; the other, though purporting to have been addressed by Messrs. DOMBEY & SON to Mr. TOOTS, is believed, on internal evidence, to have been composed by the patron of the CHICKEN himself. A few prefatory notes, an introductory essay, and two letters have been added.

The portrait in the frontispiece, copied by Mr. T. Hodge from an old painting in the Club at St. Andrews, is believed to represent the Baron Bradwardine addressing himself to his ball.

A. L.

CONTENTS

PAGE I. From Mr. Clive Newcome to Mr. Arthur Pendennis 27 II. From the Hon. Cecil Bertie to the Lady Guinevere 31 III. From Mr. Redmond Barry to his Uncle 37 IV. From Mrs. Gamp to Mrs. Prig 42 V. From Herodotus of Halicarnassus to Sophocles the 49 Athenian VI. From Mrs. Proudie to Mrs. Quiverful 55 From Mrs. Quiverful to Mrs. Proudie 60 VII. From Robert Surtees, Esq., of Mainsforth, to 64 Jonathan Oldbuck, Esq., of Monkbarns From Jonathan Oldbuck, Esq., of Monkbarns, to 72 Robert Surtees, Esq., Mainsforth From Robert Surtees, Esq., to Jonathan Oldbuck, 74 Esq. VIII. From Nicholas to the Editor of the ‘St. James’s 75 Gazette’ IX. From the Earl of Montrose to Captain Dugald Dalgetty 82 From Captain Dugald Dalgetty, of Drumthwacket, to the 84 Most Noble and Puissant Prince James, Earl of Montrose, commanding the musters of the King in Scotland X. From Mr. Lovelace to John Belford, Esq. 90 XI. From Miss Catherine Morland to Miss Eleanor Tilney 97 XII. From Montague Tigg, Esq., to Mr. David Crimp 102 From Mr. David Crimp to Montague Tigg, Esq. 112 XIII. From Christian to Piscator 113 From Piscator to Christian 115 XIV. From Truthful James to Mr. Bret Harte 120 XV. From Professor Forth to the Rev. Mr. Casaubon 123 From the Rev. Mr. Casaubon to James Forth, Esq., 126 Professor of Etruscan, Oxford From Professor Forth to Rev. Mr. Casaubon 128 From Mrs. Forth, Bradmore Road, Oxford, to David 128 Rivers, Esq., Milnthorpe, Yorkshire From David Rivers, Esq., to Mrs. Forth, Oxford 129 From Mrs. Casaubon to William Ladislaw, Esq., 129 Stratford-on-Avon From William Ladislaw, Esq., to the Hon. Secretary of 131 the Literary and Philosophical Mechanics’ Institute, Middlemarch From William Ladislaw, Esq., to Mrs. Casaubon 132 From Mrs. Casaubon to Mrs. Forth 132 XVI. From Euphues to Sir Amyas Leigh, Kt. 135 From Sir Amyas Leigh to Euphues 137 XVII. From Mr. Paul Rondelet to the Very Rev. Dean Maitland 139 XVIII. From Harold Skimpole, Esq., to the Rev. Charles 144 Honeyman, M.A. From the Rev. Charles Honeyman to Harold Skimpole, 149 Esq. XIX. From Miss Harriet to M. Guy de Maupassant 153 XX. From S. Gandish, Esq., to the ‘Newcome 156 Independent’ From Thomas Potts, Esq., of the ‘Newcome 164 Independent,’ to S. Gandish, Esq. XXI. From Monsieur Lecoq, Rue Jérusalem, Paris, to 167 Inspector Bucket, Scotland Yard From Inspector Bucket to M. Lecoq 169 From Count Fosco to Samuel Pickwick, Esq., 170 G.C.M.P.C., Goswell Road From Mr. Pickwick to the Count Fosco 172 From Inspector Bucket to M. Lecoq 173 From Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Perker, Solicitor, Gray’s 174 Inn From Monsieur Lecoq to Inspector Bucket 175 XXII. From Mr. Allan Quatermain to Sir Henry Curtis 178 XXIII. From the Baron Bradwardine to Edward Waverley, Esq., 189 of Waverley Honour APPENDIX Note on Letter of Mr. Surtees to Mr. Jonathan Oldbuck 197

FRIENDS IN FICTION

EVERY fancy which dwells much with the unborn and immortal characters of Fiction must ask itself, Did the persons in contemporary novels never meet? In so little a world their paths must often have crossed, their orbits must have intersected, though we hear nothing about the adventure from the accredited narrators. In historical fiction authors make their people meet real men and women of history—Louis XI., Lazarus, Mary Queen of Scots, General Webbe, Moses, the Man in the Iron Mask, Marie Antoinette; the list is endless. But novelists, in spite of Mr. Thackeray’s advice to Alexandre Dumas, and of his own example in “Rebecca and Rowena,” have not introduced each other’s characters. Dumas never pursued the fortunes of the Master of Ravenswood after he was picked up by that coasting vessel in the Kelpie’s Flow. Sometimes a meeting between characters in novels by different hands looked all but unavoidable. “Pendennis” and “David Copperfield” came out simultaneously in numbers, yet Pen never encountered Steerforth at the University, nor did Warrington, in his life of journalism, jostle against a reporter named David Copperfield. One fears that the Major would have called Steerforth a tiger, that Pen would have been very loftily condescending to the nephew of Betsy Trotwood. But Captain Costigan would scarcely have refused to take a sip of Mr. Micawber’s punch, and I doubt, not that Litimer would have conspired darkly with Morgan, the Major’s sinister man. Most of those delightful sets of old friends, the Dickens and Thackeray people, might well have met, though they belonged to very different worlds. In older novels, too, it might easily have chanced that Mr. Edward Waverley of Waverley Honour, came into contact with Lieutenant Booth, or, after the Forty-five, with Thomas Jones, or, in Scotland, Balmawhapple might have foregathered with Lieutenant Lismahagow. Might not even Jeanie Deans have crossed the path of Major Lambert of the “Virginians,” and been helped on her way by that good man? Assuredly Dugald Dalgetty in his wanderings in search of fights and fortune may have crushed a cup or rattled a dicebox with four gallant gentlemen of the King’s Mousquetaires. It is agreeable to wonder what all these very real people would have thought of their companions in the region of Romance, and to guess how their natures would have acted and reacted on each other.

This was the idea which suggested the following little essays in parody. In making them the writer, though an assiduous and veteran novel reader, had to recognise that after all he knew, on really intimate and friendly terms, comparatively few people in the Paradise of Fiction. Setting aside the dramatic poets and their creations, the children of Molière and Shakspeare, the reader of novels will find, may be, that his airy friends are scarce so many as he deemed. We all know Sancho and the Don, by repute at least; we have all our memories of Gil Blas; Manon Lescaut does not fade from the heart, nor her lover, the Chevalier des Grieux, from the remembrance. Our mental picture of Anna Karénine is fresh enough and fair enough, but how few can most of us recall out of the myriad progeny of George Sand! Indiana, Valentine, Lélia, do you quite believe in them, would you know them if you met them in the Paradise of Fiction? Noun one might recognise, but there is a haziness about La Petite Fadette. Consuelo, let it be admitted, is not evanescent, oblivion scatters no poppy over her; but Madame Sand’s later ladies, still more her men, are easily lost in the forests of fancy. Even their names with difficulty return to us, and if we read the roll-call, would Horace and Jacques cry Adsum like the good Colonel? There are living critics who have all Mr. George Meredith’s heroines and heroes and oddities at their finger ends, and yet forget that musical name, like the close of a rich hexameter, Clare Doria Forey. But this is a digression; it is perhaps admitted that George Sand, so great a novelist, gave the world few characters who live in and are dear to memory. We can just fancy one of her dignified later heroines, all self-renunciation and rural sentiment, preaching in vain to that real woman, Emma Bovary. Her we know, her we remember, as we remember few, comparatively, of Balzac’s thronging faces, from La Cousine Bette to Séraphitus Séraphita. Many of those are certain to live and keep their hold, but it is by dint of long and elaborate preparation, description, analysis. A stranger intermeddleth not with them, though we can fancy Lucien de Rubempré let loose in a country neighbourhood of George Sand’s, and making sonnets and love to some rural châtelaine, while Vautrin might stray among the ruffians of Gaboriau, a giant of crime. Among M. Zola’s people, however it may fare with others, I find myself remembering few: the guilty Hippolytus of “La Curée,” the poor girl in “La Fortune des Rougon,” the Abbé Mouret, the artist in “L’Oeuvre,” and the half idiotic girl of the farm house, and Hélène in “Un Page d’Amour.” They are not amongst M. Zola’s most prominent creations, and it must be some accident that makes them most memorable and recognisable to one of his readers.

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