 | Life and sayings of Mrs. Partington and others
of the family |  |
PREFATORY.
Mrs. Partington once declined an introduction
to a party, because she did not wish to be
introduced to any one she was not acquainted
with. She needs no introduction now. In all
parts of our own land, and over the sea, her
name is familiar as a household word; and “as
Mrs. Partington would say” forms a tributary
clause to many a good story, or an apology for
many a bad one; a smile attending the utterance
of the name in evidence of its appreciation.
But a preface, of course, is expected; and so,
in the most gentle manner in the world, we will
tell to you, reader, a little story about the origin
of the Partington sayings, and why they were
said, and why they are here collected. Perhaps
you have guessed it all; but it is well to
be certain.
In the first place, they were written, as the
canine quadruped is said to have gone to church,
with a latent hope, however, half indulged,
that the big world, which the author very much
loves and wishes to please, might see something
in them at which to smile. He was modest in
his hope, and hid himself behind an incognito,
impenetrable he thought, where he could see the
effect of his mild squibs upon the public. The
result pleased him, and he kept vigorously blazing
away, unseen! — as much so as the simple
bird that thrusts its head under a leaf and fancies
itself unobserved! — until they have arisen to a
magnitude that some people might deem respectable.
The origin and object of the Partington “sayings”
being thus described, the motive for their
collection shall be confessed. It is the hope that
their author may make a little money on them.
He is not so squeamish or pretending as to talk
of public good, and public amusement, as his
leading motives in the matter; but if these can be
obtained through the publication, he will be most
happy. The author confesses to certain pressing
contingencies — by no means peculiar to him,
however, among authors — that would be relieved
by a generous return for his outlay of time; and
that his pouch may take a more silvery hue from
devoutly, by him, to be wished.
This motive, so entirely original, for the publication
of a book, the author has secured under
the guarantee of his copy-right. There might be
no necessity for this, where all the rest of the
author tribe are writing and printing from higher
motives; but he pleads selfishness, and, like the
old lady in her variance with St. Paul, there is
where he and they differ.
Some wiseacre has recently made a discovery,
of what we have proclaimed from the outset, that
the name of Mrs. Partington was not original
with us — that Sydney Smith first gave it to the
world. Most profound discoverer! But the
character we claim as ours; and whether it had
been embodied in Mrs. Smith, or Brown, instead
of Mrs. Partington, would have been immaterial.
Those sayings are ours, and we venture to affirm
that Sydney Smith would not lay claim to them
from the fact that they were uttered by one of the
same name as his heroine of the mop. Because,
forsooth, he had spoken of Mrs. Partington's
sweeping back the Atlantic with her broom, would
he claim the illustrious Paul, and the roguish
Isaac, and the jocose Roger, and the great Philanthropos,
and the poetical Wideswarth, as his
might be found ready to do it for him.
The reputation of Mrs. Partington belongs to
the Boston Post, as much as if Sydney Smith had
never uttered the name in his great speech in
Parliament.
The character has been drawn from life. The
Mrs. Partington we have depicted is no fancy
sketch, and no Malaprop imitation, as some have
thought who saw in it naught but distorted words
and queer sentences. We need no appeal to
establish this fact. Mrs. Partington is seen
everywhere, and as often without the specs and
cap as with them.
There are many matters placed within the covers
of this book that the sponsor of Mrs. Partington
has written beneath the inspiration of her geniality,
to the influence of which alone their merit,
if they possess any, is to be attributed. Her portrait
looks down upon him now as he writes, and
her pleasant voice seems inwoven with the souchong
smile it sheds, and seems to say,
“PRINT A BOOK.”
| Life and sayings of Mrs. Partington and others
of the family | |