No More Learning

So much occurs to me in addition to what I said on this head in
the preface to the former volume.



Of course in what I have said I wish to be understood as keeping in mind
the difference between provincialisms properly so called and _slang_.
_Slang_ is always vulgar, because it is not a natural but an affected
way of talking, and all mere tricks of speech or writing are offensive.
I do not think that Mr. Biglow can be fairly charged with vulgarity, and
I should have entirely failed in my design, if I had not made it appear
that high and even refined sentiment may coexist with the shrewder and
more comic elements of the Yankee character. I believe that what is
essentially vulgar and mean-spirited in politics seldom has its source
in the body of the people, but much rather among those who are made
timid by their wealth or selfish by their love of power. A democracy can
_afford_ much better than an aristocracy to follow out its convictions,
and is perhaps better qualified to build those convictions on plain
principles of right and wrong, rather than on the shifting sands of
expediency. I had always thought 'Sam Slick' a libel on the Yankee
character, and a complete falsification of Yankee modes of speech,
though, for aught I know, it may be true in both respects so far as the
British provinces are concerned. To me the dialect was native, was
spoken all about me when a boy, at a time when an Irish day-laborer was
as rare as an American one now. Since then I have made a study of it so
far as opportunity allowed. But when I write in it, it is as in a mother
tongue, and I am carried back far beyond any studies of it to long-ago
noonings in my father's hay-fields, and to the talk of Sam and Job over
their jug of _blackstrap_ under the shadow of the ash-tree which still
dapples the grass whence they have been gone so long.

But life is short, and prefaces should be. And so, my good friends, to
whom this introductory epistle is addressed, farewell. Though some of
you have remonstrated with me, I shall never write any more 'Biglow
Papers,' however great the temptation,--great especially at the present
time,--unless it be to complete the original plan of this Series by
bringing out Mr. Sawin as an 'original Union man.
' The very favor with
which they have been received is a hindrance to me, by forcing on me a
self-consciousness from which I was entirely free when I wrote the First
Series. Moreover, I am no longer the same careless youth, with nothing
to do but live to myself, my books, and my friends, that I was then. I
always hated politics, in the ordinary sense of the word, and I am not
likely to grow, fonder of them, now that I have learned how rare it is
to find a man who can keep principle clear from party and personal
prejudice, or can conceive the possibility of another's doing so. I feel
as if I could in some sort claim to be an _emeritus_, and I am sure that
political satire will have full justice done it by that genuine and
delightful humorist, the Rev. Petroleum V. Nasby. I regret that I killed
off Mr. Wilbur so soon, for he would have enabled me to bring into this
preface a number of learned quotations, which must now go a-begging, and
also enabled me to dispersonalize myself into a vicarious egotism. He
would have helped me likewise in clearing myself from a charge which I
shall briefly touch on, because my friend Mr. Hughes has found it
needful to defend me in his preface to one of the English editions of
the 'Biglow Papers. ' I thank Mr. Hughes heartily for his friendly care
of my good name, and were his Preface accessible to my readers here (as
I am glad it is not, for its partiality makes me blush), I should leave
the matter where he left it. The charge is of profanity, brought in by
persons who proclaimed African slavery of Divine institution, and is
based (so far as I have heard) on two passages in the First Series--

'An' you've gut to git up airly,
Ef you want to take in God,'

and,

'God'll send the bill to you,'

and on some Scriptural illustrations by Mr. Sawin.

Now, in the first place, I was writing under an assumed character, and
must talk as the person would whose mouthpiece I made myself. Will any
one familiar with the New England countryman venture to tell me that he
does _not_ speak of sacred things familiarly?