Chapter XIV
Jerry determined to give up all thoughts of Life in London; to retire from the Day and Night Scenes altogether. Moralises on his late imminent danger, and almost miraculous escape from death. Logic rapidly declines in health. The Oxonian makes his Will. His advice to Jerry before his exit. Epitaph on Logic, written by the Corinthian.
“I hope Logic will be able to accompany us in our visit to Lord Liberal’s Gallery,” said Tom, when he was interrupted by the footman putting the following letter into his hand—“Aye,” observed Tom to Jerry, “here is a note from Bob; let us hear what he has to offer upon the subject:—”
My dear Tom,
I regret very much that my health will not permit me to accompany you and the “Young One” to view my Lord Liberal’s fine gallery of paintings; a pleasure which I had sincerely anticipated, as it is well known that his Lordship’s taste respecting the fine arts, is considerably above par. But “necessitas non habet legem!” To tell you the truth, I am seriously ill, although not alarmed; yet, I must confess, that I never felt so strangely in the whole course of my life. I think the volume is nearly spun out; and that the Book will soon be closed for ever! But Dr. Finish’em will not have it so, nay, he insists on the contrary, “Lots of pages,” says he, “yet remain to be read;” and several Chapters must be perused, before you arrive at that emphatical word—FINIS! Be that as it may; you are aware that doctors differ, and I do not like appearances; yet, as we say at Oxford, forti et fideli nil difficile! Nevertheless, I am anxious to see you, my dear friend, as soon as convenient; and I wish Jerry to be your companion, as I have something to communicate to both of you, rather of a serious nature, concerning myself; yet, I am far from labouring under un cœur contrit. Therefore tell the “Young One,” I hope his person is now quite cool—that his flame is also cool; and instead of lamenting over the—&c., &c.—I am happy to hear he is Mens sana in corpore sano:—
I remain, my dear Tom,
Yours, truly,
Robert Logic.
Corinthian Tom, Esq.
“There’s something behind this letter that I do not like,” said Tom; “Bob is very ill, you may rely upon it, or else he would not be so pressing for us to visit him.” “Yes, I am afraid it is too true,” replied Jerry; “but let us hope he is not so bad, neither, as you perceive, he is joking about my late affair.” “Joke with you!” echoed Tom, “I expect Logic will die with a joke in his mouth, he is so fond of punning? But we will lose no time, as I am anxious to ascertain the true cause of his illness.”
Upon the arrival of our heroes at the apartments of Logic, they found him sitting at a table, in his arm chair, with pens and ink before him: his countenance most woefully changed for the worse. Indeed, Tom and Jerry were quite shocked with his altered appearance in so short a time. He endeavoured to smile upon them, as usual; but it savoured more of the “ghastly!” than that sort of enlivening humour which so generally imparted animation to his cheerful face. “I am very glad to see you, my boys,” said he, “before I start on my long journey, which I have been preparing for these last five or six days.” “I was not aware you had any such intention,” answered Tom; “but may I ask, where are you going?”
“To that bourne from whence no traveller returns!”
replied Logic, accompanied by a most penetrating look at the Corinthian. “Dr. Finish’em has given me my quietus, like an honest fellow. On feeling my pulse, he observed—“Your hour-glass is almost run out! Tempus fugit! Therefore, what you have to do, let it be done quickly, or else it will not be done at all!” Old Bolus, too, was rather funny with me on the occasion; “I know,” said he, “your Will was always good to serve everybody; therefore, Mr. Logic, have a good WILL now towards your friends.” I took Pill and Potions advice, and the few hours allotted to me I have made the best use of that I possibly could; and here is my WILL for your approbation.” The tear started down Tom’s cheek, and Jerry was much affected by the unexpected circumstance. “I sincerely hope it is not so bad as you apprehend,” said Tom. “Yes, my dear friends,” replied Logic, “it is all over with me. I have suffered severely from an inflammation in my bowels; but the pain has subsided, and that is the sign of approaching death. You will perceive, on looking over my TESTAMENT,39 that I have not adhered to any of the technical terms of lawyers, being well aware that the distribution of my property will never puzzle the pericranium of the Lord Chancellor, or occasion a row among the learned brethren, to obtain a brief upon the subject; and if I have not made myself perfectly intelligible, I hope you will now point out any errors that may appear to you, in order to avoid disputes hereafter. It is true, I have no blunt to leave you, my boys, but several notes, which I hope, will always bear an interest, and prove as valuable to you in the hour of need—as cash! You will, my dear Tom, as my last request, read it aloud, for the approbation of my friend Jerry.”
THE LAST WORDS AND TESTAMENT OF ROBERT LOGIC.
Being wide awake—my UPPER STORY in perfect repair—and down to what I am about—I have seized hold of the feather, with a firm hand, to render myself intelligible, and also to communicate the objects I have in view; I give and bequeath unto my friend, Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., my tile, my castor, my topper, my upper-crust, my pimple coverer, otherwise MY HAT, which, I hope, will never be the means of changing the appearance of “an old friend with a new face.” To my out and out friend and companion, Corinthian Tom, I give my spread, my summer-cabbage, my water-plant, but more generally understood as my Umbrella; who, I feel assured will never let it be made use of as a shelter for duplicity, ingratitude, or hum-buggery of any sort! Also, to Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., I resign my fam-snatchers, i.e., my Gloves, under the consideration, if ever he should part with them, that they are only to be worn by those persons, who have “a hand to give, and a heart that forgives!” Likewise to Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., I bequeath my four-eyes, my barnacles, my green-specs, but amongst opticians, denominated Spectacles. It is my sincere wish, that nothing green will be ever seen appertaining to them, except their colour; I also hope they will not, upon any occasion whatever magnify Trifles into difficulties: but enable the wearer to see his way through Life as clear as crystal! I press upon Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., his acceptance of my fogle, my wipe, my clout, my sneezer, politely termed a Silk Handkerchief. This article has often been used to wipe off a tear of pity, and always forthcoming at a tale of distress; may it ever be at hand on such Christian-like occasions! To Philip Timothy Splinter, Esq., I bequeath my upper tog, my Benjaman, my wrapper, generally called a Top Coat, with the advice, that however it may be mended and mended again, he will never let it be turned against unavoidable misfortune, and charity. My ticker, my tatler, my thimble, otherwise my Watch, I bequeath to Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., as an emblematical gift to keep Time upon all occasions—to remember its inestimable value, and also to recollect that he will, some day or another, be wound-up for the last time. My two Seals I give conjointly to my most valued and dear friends, Corinthian Tom and Jerry Hawthorn, Esqrs., in order, if possible, that the bonds of friendship may be more firmly sealed between them, to the end of their lives. To Miss Mary Rosebud, I give and bequeath my Diamond Ring, as a representative of her excellent brilliant qualities, and also as a golden fence, to secure her virtue, reputation, and dignity. To my worthy friend, Sir John Blubber, Knt. I give and bequeath my padders, my stampers, my buckets, otherwise my Boots, whose knowledge of mankind, united with kindness towards the failings of others, teaches him to tread lightly o’er the ashes of the dead! To prevent mistakes respecting my Bit, I have not a bit to leave; it having been with me, for some time past—Pockets to Let, unfurnished; Sic transit gloria mundi! But nevertheless, I trust I have always proved amicus humani generis! My Books having been long booked for their value, and afforded me consolation and support in the hour of need—I, therefore, leave as I found it, for other folks to bustle in, that Great Volume—the World! which upon all occasions, was my sheet-anchor! assisted by the following good old maxims, as my guide:—
Tempus edax rerum.—Time that devours all things.
Vincit veritas.—Truth conquors.
Principiis obsta.—Resist the first beginnings.
Vitiis nemo sine nascitur.—No man without his faults.
Spes mea in Deo.—My hope is in God.
Spero meliora.—I hope for better things.
Robert Logic.
Tom and Jerry were both considerably affected at the kindness displayed towards them by the Oxonian; and had it been at any other time, the singularity of the above Testament would have produced much laughter between them; at all events, it convinced them that Logic still preserved his character for ORIGINALITY. Three proper witnesses, disinterested persons, belonging to the house, were instantly called in to sign it, when the Testament, in the eye of the law, became a valid document. “My dear Jerry,” said Logic, “as we must soon part, I had intended to offer a few remarks for your consideration; but, finding that my strength will not second my intentions, I shall be very concise on the matter: you must perceive that the comical part of my career is at an end, and you are well aware that I always was a merry fellow; but, as Mercutio says, I shall be found a grave man to-morrow. Endeavour, then, “To do unto all men, as you would they should do unto you,” and you will not be a great way off the right path to happiness. I feel myself very faint; my breath getting short; and having settled everything to my satisfaction, have the kindness to assist me into bed, that I may die like a Christian—contented, and in peace with all mankind! Tom, give me your hand; Jerry, yours likewise—I grasp them both with sincerity!” Then looking them full in the face; with a placid smile on his countenance, his last words were—“God bless you!” His lip fell; his eyes lost their brilliancy; and the once-merry, lively, facetious, friendly Logic, was now numbered with the dead!
For several days, our heroes were absorbed in grief, at the sudden loss of their much-admired and valued friend; and Corinthian House, for a long time after the decease of the Oxonian, was dull in the extreme. The funeral of Logic, under the direction of Tom, was of the most splendid description; and a handsome monument was also erected by his order, bearing the following inscription:—
This Tablet
Was erected in remembrance of
ROBERT LOGIC, Esq.,
Who was viewed throughout the circle of his acquaintances as
A MAN,
In every sense of the word,
Valuable as Gold!
Mirth and Good Humour were always at his elbows; but
DULL CARE
Was never allowed a seat in his presence.
He played the first fiddle in all companies, and was never out
of tune:
Bob was a wit of the first quality;
But his Satire was general, and levelled against the follies
of mankind:
Personality and Scandal he disclaimed:
His exertions were always directed to make others happy.
As a Choice Spirit, he was unequalled;
And as a Sincere Friend, never excelled; but in his character of a
MAN OF THE WORLD,
Bob Logic was a Mirror to all his Companions.
Mankind had been his study; and he had perused the Great
Book of Life
With superior advantages; and his Commentaries on
Men and Manners
Displayed not only an enlarged mind; but his Opinions were
gentlemanly and liberal.
His intimate knowledge of Vice had preserved him from
being Vicious.
By which source he was able to discriminate with effect; and
Virtue appeared more beautiful in his eyes.
Truth was his polar star; and Integrity his sheet anchor.
Adversity could not reduce his noble mind,
And Prosperity was not suffered to play tricks with his feelings;
HE WAS A MAN UNDER ALL CIRCUMSTANCES!
Flattery he despised; while Candour obtained his respect;
and the corner stone of his character was—Sincerity.
He was charitable, but not ostentatious, and a well-wisher to
all the world.
His Friends,
TOM AND JERRY,
Lamenting his severe loss in society, trust, that upon the
AWFUL, DAY OF RECKONING,
The Great Auditor of Accounts will find his Balance Sheet
correct, (errors excepted):
And as the whole tenour of Bob Logic’s life had been A Volume
of Pleasure they sincerely hope it will be
Well Bound at the last!