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Page 28
The "soothing system," with important modifications, has been resumed
at the chateau; yet I cannot help agreeing with Monsieur Maillard,
that his own "treatment" was a very capital one of its kind. As he
justly observed, it was "simple -- neat -- and gave no trouble at all
-- not the least."
I have only to add that, although I have searched every library in
Europe for the works of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether, I have, up
to the present day, utterly failed in my endeavors at procuring an
edition.
~~~ End of Text ~~~
======
HOW TO WRITE A BLACKWOOD ARTICLE.
"In the name of the Prophet -- figs!!"
_ Cry of the Turkish fig-peddler_.
I PRESUME everybody has heard of me. My name is the Signora Psyche
Zenobia. This I know to be a fact. Nobody but my enemies ever calls
me Suky Snobbs. I have been assured that Suky is but a vulgar
corruption of Psyche, which is good Greek, and means "the soul"
(that's me, I'm all soul) and sometimes "a butterfly," which latter
meaning undoubtedly alludes to my appearance in my new crimson satin
dress, with the sky-blue Arabian mantelet, and the trimmings of green
agraffas, and the seven flounces of orange-colored auriculas. As for
Snobbs -- any person who should look at me would be instantly aware
that my name wasn't Snobbs. Miss Tabitha Turnip propagated that
report through sheer envy. Tabitha Turnip indeed! Oh the little
wretch! But what can we expect from a turnip? Wonder if she remembers
the old adage about "blood out of a turnip," &c.? [Mem. put her in
mind of it the first opportunity.] [Mem. again -- pull her nose.]
Where was I? Ah! I have been assured that Snobbs is a mere corruption
of Zenobia, and that Zenobia was a queen -- (So am I. Dr. Moneypenny
always calls me the Queen of the Hearts) -- and that Zenobia, as well
as Psyche, is good Greek, and that my father was "a Greek," and that
consequently I have a right to our patronymic, which is Zenobia and
not by any means Snobbs. Nobody but Tabitha Turnip calls me Suky
Snobbs. I am the Signora Psyche Zenobia.
As I said before, everybody has heard of me. I am that very Signora
Psyche Zenobia, so justly celebrated as corresponding secretary to
the "Philadelphia, Regular, Exchange, Tea, Total, Young, Belles,
Lettres, Universal, Experimental, Bibliographical, Association, To,
Civilize, Humanity." Dr. Moneypenny made the title for us, and says
he chose it because it sounded big like an empty rum-puncheon. (A
vulgar man that sometimes -- but he's deep.) We all sign the initials
of the society after our names, in the fashion of the R. S. A., Royal
Society of Arts -- the S. D. U. K., Society for the Diffusion of
Useful Knowledge, &c, &c. Dr. Moneypenny says that S. stands for
stale, and that D. U. K. spells duck, (but it don't,) that S. D. U.
K. stands for Stale Duck and not for Lord Brougham's society -- but
then Dr. Moneypenny is such a queer man that I am never sure when he
is telling me the truth. At any rate we always add to our names the
initials P. R. E. T. T. Y. B. L. U. E. B. A. T. C. H. -- that is to
say, Philadelphia, Regular, Exchange, Tea, Total, Young, Belles,
Lettres, Universal, Experimental, Bibliographical, Association, To,
Civilize, Humanity -- one letter for each word, which is a decided
improvement upon Lord Brougham. Dr. Moneypenny will have it that our
initials give our true character -- but for my life I can't see what
he means.
Notwithstanding the good offices of the Doctor, and the strenuous
exertions of the association to get itself into notice, it met with
no very great success until I joined it. The truth is, the members
indulged in too flippant a tone of discussion. The papers read every
Saturday evening were characterized less by depth than buffoonery.
They were all whipped syllabub. There was no investigation of first
causes, first principles. There was no investigation of any thing at
all. There was no attention paid to that great point, the "fitness of
things." In short there was no fine writing like this. It was all low
-- very! No profundity, no reading, no metaphysics -- nothing which
the learned call spirituality, and which the unlearned choose to
stigmatize as cant. [Dr. M. says I ought to spell "cant" with a
capital K -- but I know better.]
When I joined the society it was my endeavor to introduce a better
style of thinking and writing, and all the world knows how well I
have succeeded. We get up as good papers now in the P. R. E. T. T. Y.
B. L. U. E. B. A. T. C. H. as any to be found even in Blackwood. I
say, Blackwood, because I have been assured that the finest writing,
upon every subject, is to be discovered in the pages of that justly
celebrated Magazine. We now take it for our model upon all themes,
and are getting into rapid notice accordingly. And, after all, it's
not so very difficult a matter to compose an article of the genuine
Blackwood stamp, if one only goes properly about it. Of course I
don't speak of the political articles. Everybody knows how they are
managed, since Dr. Moneypenny explained it. Mr. Blackwood has a pair
of tailor's-shears, and three apprentices who stand by him for
orders. One hands him the "Times," another the "Examiner" and a third
a "Culley's New Compendium of Slang-Whang." Mr. B. merely cuts out
and intersperses. It is soon done -- nothing but "Examiner,"
"Slang-Whang," and "Times" -- then "Times," "Slang-Whang," and
"Examiner" -- and then "Times," "Examiner," and "Slang-Whang."
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