1830.] [ 25 ] 



RECOLLECTIONS OF A VALETUDINARIAN. No. 1. 



I AM an older man at thirty-five than most people at threescore, in 

 experience, in knowledge of the world, and, what is infinitely more un- 

 comfortable to myself, in constitution. I had the serious misfortune to 

 become my own master too early in life, and all my adventures, mis- 

 haps, and consequent imprudencies, have been equally precocious. I 

 even came into the world sooner than I was expected, for I am a seven 

 months' child ; and my first misfortune was the loss of my poor mother, 

 who died in giving me birth. Reduced to premature old age before I 

 have reached the prime of life, I only exist by art ; in short, I am now 

 to an arm-chair very much what the man part of the centaur was to a 

 horse. 



Thus debarred from active life, I am driven to my own resources for 

 amusement, and look upon my present loss of locomotion as a judgment 

 upon me for my wandering habits in youth. From the time I was four- 

 teen years old, when I first entered the Navy, I have been constantly 

 roving about the world ; and if the frequent changes of climate, and the 

 numerous accidents incidental to my life and profession have curtailed 

 my physical enjoyments, they have considerably added to my mental 

 gratification, by providing me with Recollections and Reflections for the 

 remainder of my life. The benefit of these I would fain bestow upon 

 the public, not altogether as an act of disinterested kindness, as I have 

 consulted my own amusement as much or more than their advantage ; 

 but because autobiography is so much the fashion, that if one does not 

 write something in the present day, it may be supposed one cannot spell. 

 We have " Memoirs," t( Original Letters," " Anecdotes," and " Remi- 

 niscences," every sort of means by which private occurrences may be 

 converted into public property. We are by nature so curious, so fond 

 of prying into our neighbours' affairs, and neglecting our own, that there 

 is nothing one enjoys so much as a peep behind the curtain into other 

 people's families, in order to become acquainted with things and persons 

 that no way concern us, or of knowing something that is not generally 

 known. We prey upon each other like vampires, filch each other's good 

 stories, portray our dearest friends' weaknesses, and take advantage of 

 their sayings and doings in the hours of confidence and conviviality to 

 make a book, No one, it is remarked, " is a hero to his own valet de 

 chambre ;" and it is most true : neither is it possible for any one to be 

 " wise at all hours ;" and as long as this domestic inquisition is encou- 

 raged as it is by the fashion of the day, the nonsenses and absurdities of 

 our fellow-creatures will not fail to provide us with sufficient materials 

 to flatter our " amour-propre," or gratify our ill-nature. 



Notwithstanding all this, however, I must write, for I can do nothing 

 else to amuse myself; and I see no reason why ff my reminiscences" 

 should not be just as entertaining as other people's, as Horace Walpole's 



for instance, who wrote his for the amusement of the Misses B . Not 



that I would by any means have the presumption to compare myself 

 with that accomplished courtier and literary noble, who has written a 

 very pleasant, though rather scandalous, account of his own times, and 

 who I dare say would have flattered himself that he had been a great deal 

 more " in the world," as it is called, than I have. Yet I doubt much if 



M. M. New Series. VOL. X. No. 55. D 



