I have found among my fellow subalterns two or three quondam managers,
who, like myself, have wielded the sceptres of country theatres; and we
have many a sly joke together at the expense of the manager and the
public. Sometimes, too, we meet like deposed and exiled kings, talk
over the events of our respective reigns; moralize over a tankard of
ale, and laugh at the humbug of the great and little world; which, I
take it, is the very essence of practical philosophy.
Thus end the anecdotes of Buckthorne and his friends. A few mornings
after our hearing the history of the ex-manager, he bounced into my
room before I was out of bed.
"Give me joy! give me joy!" said he, rubbing his hands with the utmost
glee, "my great expectations are realized!"
I stared at him with a look of wonder and inquiry. "My booby cousin is
dead!" cried he, "may he rest in peace! He nearly broke his neck in a
fall from his horse in a fox-chase. By good luck he lived long enough
to make his will. He has made me his heir, partly out of an odd feeling
of retributive justice, and partly because, as he says, none of his own
family or friends know how to enjoy such an estate. I'm off to the
country to take possession. I've done with authorship. - That for the
critics!" said he, snapping his fingers. "Come down to Doubting Castle
when I get settled, and egad! I'll give you a rouse." So saying he
shook me heartily by the hand and bounded off in high spirits.
A long time elapsed before I heard from him again. Indeed, it was but a
short time since that I received a letter written in the happiest of
moods. He was getting the estate into fine order, everything went to
his wishes, and what was more, he was married to Sacharissa: who, it
seems, had always entertained an ardent though secret attachment for
him, which he fortunately discovered just after coming to his estate.
"I find," said he, "you are a little given to the sin of authorship
which I renounce. If the anecdotes I have given you of my story are of
any interest, you may make use of them; but come down to Doubting
Castle and see how we live, and I'll give you my whole London life over
a social glass; and a rattling history it shall be about authors and
reviewers."
If ever I visit Doubting Castle, and get the history he promises, the
Public shall be sure to hear of it.
