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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:40 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:40 -0700 |
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diff --git a/12761-h/12761-h.htm b/12761-h/12761-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1845bfd --- /dev/null +++ b/12761-h/12761-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15812 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html lang="EN"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=UTF-8"> + <title>Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine. Vol. 53, No. 329.</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + hr.full {width: 100%;} + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + .pagenum {display: none; } /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; margin-bottom: 1em; padding-left: 2em; font-size: smaller; float: right; clear: right;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i1 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i3 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem .caesura {vertical-align: -200%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12761 ***</div> + +<h1>BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE</h1> +<hr /> + +<h2>NO. CCCXXIX. MARCH, 1843. VOL. LIII.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<ul> + <li><a href="#bw329s1">AMMALÁT BEK. A TRUE TALE OF THE CAUCASUS FROM THE RUSSIAN OF MARLÍNSKI</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329s2">POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.—NO. VI.</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329s3">CALEB STUKELY. PART XII.</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329s4">IMAGINARY CONVERSATION. BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. SANDT AND KOTZEBUE</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329s5">THE JEWELLER'S WIFE. A PASSAGE IN THE CAREER OF EL EMPECINADO</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329s6">THE TALE OF A TUB: AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER—HOW JACK RAN MAD A SECOND TIME</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329s7">PAUL DE KOCKNEYISMS, BY A COCKNEY</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329s8">THE WORLD OF LONDON. SECOND SERIES. PART III.</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329s9">THE LOST LAMB. BY DELTA</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329s10">COMTE</a></li> + <li><a href="#bw329-footnotes">[FOOTNOTES]</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<a class="pagenum" name="page281" id="page281" title="page281"></a> +<a name="bw329s1" id="bw329s1"></a> +<h2>AMMALÁT BEK.</h2> + +<h3>A TRUE TALE OF THE CAUCASUS.</h3> + +<p>TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN OF MARLÍNSKI. BY THOMAS B. SHAW, B.A. +OF CAMBRIDGE, ADJUNCT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN THE IMPERIAL +LYCEUM OF TSARSKOË SELO.</p> + +<h3>THE TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.</h3> + +<p>The English mania for travelling, which supplies our continental neighbours +with such abundant matter for wonderment and witticism, is of no very +recent date. Now more than ever, perhaps, does this passion seem to possess +us:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>"——tenet insanabile multos</p> +<p><i>Terrarum</i> <span lang="EL" title="kakoithes">κακοηθες</span>, et ægro in corde senescit:"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>when the press groans with "Tours," "Trips," "Hand-books," "Journeys," +"Visits."</p> + +<p>In spite of this, it is as notorious as unaccountable, that England knows +very little, or at least very little correctly, of the social condition, manners, +and literature of one of the most powerful among her continental sisters.</p> + +<p>The friendly relations between Great Britain and Russia, established in the +reign of Edward V., have subsisted without interruption since that epoch, so +auspicious to both nations: the bond of amity, first knit by Chancellor in 1554, +has never since been relaxed: the two nations have advanced, each at its own +pace, and by its own paths, towards the sublime goal of improvement and +civilization—have stood shoulder to shoulder in the battle for the weal and +liberty of mankind.</p> + +<p>It is, nevertheless, as strange as true, that the land of Alfred and Elizabeth +is yet but imperfectly acquainted with the country of Peter and of Catharine. +The cause of this ignorance is assuredly not to be found in any indifference +or want of curiosity on the part of English travellers. There is no lack of +pilgrims annually leaving the bank of Thames,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>"With cockle hat and staff,</p> +<p class="i2">With gourd and sandal shoon;"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>armed duly with note-book and "patent Mordan," directing their wandering +steps to the shores of Ingria, or the gilded cupolas of Moscow. But a very +<a class="pagenum" name="page282" id="page282" title="page282"></a>short residence in the empire of the Tsar will suffice to convince a foreigner +how defective, and often how false, is the information given by travellers respecting +the social and national character of the Russians. These abundant +and singular misrepresentations are not, of course, voluntary; and it may not +be useless to point out their principal sources.</p> + +<p>The chief of these is, without doubt, the difficulty and novelty of the language, +and the unfortunate facility of travelling over the beaten track—from +St Petersburg to Moscow, and from Moscow, perhaps, to Nijny Nóvgorod, without +any acquaintance with that language. The foreigner may enjoy, during a +visit of the usual duration, the hospitality for which the higher classes are so +justly celebrated; but his association with the nobility will be found an absolute +obstacle to the making even a trifling progress in the Russian language; +which, though now regaining a degree of attention from the elevated +classes,<a name="footnotetag1" id="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a> +too long denied to it by those with whom their native tongue <i>was</i> an unfashionable +one—he would have no occasion at all to speak, and not even very +frequent opportunities of hearing.</p> + +<p>But even in those rare cases where the stranger united to a determination +to study the noble and interesting language of the country, an intention of +remaining here long enough to learn it, he was often discouraged by the belief, +that the literature was too poor to repay his time and labour. Besides, +the Russian language has so little relation to the other European tongues—it +stands so much alone, and throws so little direct light upon any of them, that +another obstacle was thrown into his way.</p> + +<p>The acquisition of any one of that great family of languages, all derived, +more or less remotely, from the Latin, which extends over the whole south +and west of Europe, cannot fail to cast a strong light upon the other cognate +dialects; as the knowledge of any one of the Oriental tongues facilitates, +nay almost confers, a mastery over the thousand others, which are less languages +of distinct type than dialects of the same speech, offshoots from the +same stock.</p> + +<p>Add to this, the extraordinary errors and omissions which abound in every +disquisition hitherto published in French, English, and German periodicals +with regard to Russian literature, and deform those wretched rags of translation +which are all that has been hitherto done towards the reproduction, in +our own language, of the literature of Russia. These versions were made by +persons utterly unacquainted with the country, the manners, and the people, or +made after the Russian had been distilled through the alembic of a previous +French or German translation.</p> + +<p>Poetry naturally forces its way into the notice of a foreign nation sooner +than prose; but it is, nevertheless, rather singular than honourable to the +literary enterprise of England, that the present is the first attempt to introduce +to the British public any work of Russian Prose Fiction whatever, with any +thing like a reasonable selection of subject and character, at least <i>directly</i> from +the original language.</p> + +<p>The two volumes of Translations published by Bowring, under the title of +"Russian Anthology," and consisting chiefly of short lyric pieces, would appear +at first sight an exception to that indifference to the productions of Russian +genius of which we have accused the English public; and the popularity +of that collection would be an additional encouragement to the hope, that our +charge may be, if not ill-founded, at least exaggerated.</p> + +<p>We are willing to believe, that the degree—if we are rightly informed, no +slight one—of interest with which these volumes were welcomed in England, +was sufficient to blind their readers to the extreme incompetency with which +the translations they contained were executed.</p> + +<p>It is always painful to find fault—more painful to criticise with severity—the +work of a person whose motive was the same as that which actuates the present +<a class="pagenum" name="page283" id="page283" title="page283"></a>publication; but when the gross unfaithfulness<a +name="footnotetag2" id="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a> exhibited in the versions +in question tends to give a false and disparaging idea of the value and the tone +of Russian poetry, we may be excused for our apparent uncourteousness in +thus pointing out their defects.</p> + +<p>It will not, we trust, be considered out of place to give our readers a brief +sketch of the history of the Russian literature; the origin, growth, and fortunes +of which are marked by much that is peculiar. In doing this we shall +content ourselves with noting, as briefly as possible, the events which preceded +and accompanied the birth of letters in Russia, and the evolution of a literature +not elaborated by the slow and imperceptible action of time, but bursting, +like the armed Pallas, suddenly into light.</p> + +<p>In performing this task, we shall confine our attention solely to the department +of Prose Fiction, looking forward meanwhile with anxiety, though not +without hope, to a future opportunity of discussing more fully the intellectual +annals of Russia.</p> + +<p>In the year of redemption 863, two Greeks of Thessalonika, Cyril<a +name="footnotetag3" id="footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a> and +Methodius, sent by Michael, Emperor of the East, conferred the precious +boon of alphabetic writing upon Kostisláff, Sviatopólk, and Kótsel, then chiefs +of the Moravians.</p> + +<p>The characters they introduced were naturally those of the Greek alphabet, +to which they were obliged, in order to represent certain sounds which do not +occur in the Greek language,<a name="footnotetag4" id="footnotetag4"></a><a href="#footnote4"><sup>4</sup></a> to add a number of other signs borrowed from +the Hebrew, the Armenian, and the Coptic. So closely, indeed, did this alphabet, +called the Cyrillian, follow the Greek characters, that the use of the +aspirates was retained without any necessity.</p> + +<p>These characters (with the exception of a few which are omitted in the Russian) +varied surprisingly little in their form,<a name="footnotetag5" id="footnotetag5"></a><a href="#footnote5"><sup>5</sup></a> and perhaps without any change +whatever in their vocal value, compose the modern alphabet of the Russian language; +an examination of which would go far, in our opinion, to settle the +long agitated question respecting the ancient pronunciation of the classic languages, +particularly as Cyril and his brother adapted the Greek alphabet to a +language totally foreign from, and unconnected with, any dialect of Greek.</p> + +<p>In this, as in all other languages, the translation of the Bible is the first +monument and model of literature. This version was made by Cyril immediately +after the composition of the alphabet. The language spoken at Thessalonika +was the Servian: but from the immense number of purely Greek +words which occur in the translation, as well as from the fact of the version +<a class="pagenum" name="page284" id="page284" title="page284"></a>being a strictly literal one, it is probable that the Scriptures were not translated +into any specific spoken dialect at all; but that a kind of <i>mezzo-termine</i> +was selected—or rather formed—for the purpose. What we have advanced +derives a still stronger degree of probability from the circumstance, that the +Slavonic Bible follows the Greek <i>construction</i>. This Bible, with slight changes +and corrections produced by three or four revisions made at different periods, +is that still employed by the Russian Church; and the present spoken language +of the country differs so widely from it, that the Slavonian of the +Bible forms a separate branch of education to the priests and to the upper +classes—who are instructed in this <i>dead</i> language, precisely as an Italian must +study Latin in order to read the Bible.</p> + +<p>Above the sterile and uninteresting desert of early Russian history, towers, +like the gigantic Sphynx of Ghizeh over the sand of the Thebaid, one colossal +figure—that of Vladímir Sviatoslávitch; the first to surmount the bloody +splendour of the Great Prince's bonnet<a name="footnotetag6" id="footnotetag6"></a><a href="#footnote6"><sup>6</sup></a> with the mildly-radiant Cross of +Christ.</p> + +<p>From the conversion to Christianity of Vladímir and his subjects—passing +over the wild and rapacious dominion of the Tartar hordes, which lasted for +about 250 years—we may consider two languages, essentially distinct, to have +been employed in Russia till the end of the 17th century—the one the written +or learned, the other the spoken language.</p> + +<p>The former was the Slavonian into which the Holy Scriptures were translated: +and this remained the learned or official language for a long period. +In this—or in an imitation of this, effected with various degrees of success—were +compiled the different collections of Monkish annals which form the +treasury whence future historians were to select their materials from among +the valuable, but confused accumulations of facts; in this the solemn acts of +Government, treaties, codes, &c., were composed; and the few writings which +cannot be comprised under the above classes<a name="footnotetag7" id="footnotetag7"></a><a href="#footnote7"><sup>7</sup></a> were naturally compiled in the +language, emphatically that of the Church and of learning.</p> + +<p>The sceptre of the wild Tartar Khans was not, as may be imagined, much +allied to the pen; the hordes of fierce and greedy savages which overran, +like the locusts of the Apocalypse, for two centuries and a half the fertile +plains of central and southern Russia, contented themselves with exacting +tribute from a nation which they despised probably too much to feel any desire +of interfering with its language; and the dominion of the Tartars produced +hardly any perceptible effect upon the Russian tongue.<a +name="footnotetag8" id="footnotetag8"></a><a href="#footnote8"><sup>8</sup></a></p> + +<p>It is to the reign of Alexéi Mikháilovitch, who united Little Russia to +Muscovy, that we must look for the germ of the modern literature of the +country: the language had begun to feel the influence of the Little Russian, +tinctured by the effects of Polish civilization, and the spirit of classicism which +so long distinguished the Sarmatian literature.</p> + +<p>The impulse given to this union, of so momentous an import to the future +fortunes of the empire, at the beginning of the year 1654, would possibly have +brought forth in course of time a literature in Russia such as we now find it, +had not the extraordinary reign, and still more extraordinary character, of +Peter the Great interposed certain disturbing—if, indeed, they may not be called +in some measure impeding—forces. That giant hand which broke down the +<a class="pagenum" name="page285" id="page285" title="page285"></a>long impregnable dike which had hitherto separated Russia from the rest of +Europe, and admitted the arts, the learning, and the civilization of the West +to rush in with so impetuous a flood, fertilizing as it came, but also destroying +and sweeping away something that was valuable, much that was national—that +hand was unavoidably too heavy and too strong to nurse the infant seedling +of literature; and the command and example of Peter perhaps rather +favoured the imitation of what was good in other languages, than the production +of originality in his own.</p> + +<p>This opinion, bold and perhaps rash as it may appear to Russians, seems to +derive some support, as well as illustration, from the immense number of foreign +words which make the Russian of Peter's time</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"A Babylonish dialect;"</p></div> + +<p>the mania for every thing foreign having overwhelmed the language with an +infinity of terms rudely torn, not skilfully adapted, from every tongue; terms +which might have been—have, indeed, since been—translated into words of +Russian form and origin. A review of the literary progress made at this +time will, we think, go far to establish our proposition; it will exhibit a very +large proportion of translations, but very few original productions.</p> + +<p>From this period begins the more immediate object of the present note: we +shall briefly trace the rise and fortunes of the present, or vernacular Russian +literature; confining our attention, as we have proposed, to the Prose Fiction, +and contenting ourselves with noting, cursorily, the principal authors in this +kind, living and dead.</p> + +<p>At the time of Peter the Great, there may be said to have existed (it will +be convenient to keep in mind) three languages—the Slavonic, to which we +have already alluded; the Russian; and the dialect of Little Russia.</p> + +<p>The fact, that the learned are not yet agreed upon the exact epoch from +which to date the origin of the modern Russian literature, will probably raise +a smile on the reader's lip; but the difficulty of establishing this important +starting-point will become apparent when he reflects upon the circumstance, +that the literature is—as we have stated—divisible into two distinct and widely +differing regions. It will be sufficiently accurate to date the origin of the +modern Russian literature at about a century back from the present time; +and to consider Lomonósoff as its founder. Mikháil Vassílievitch Lomonósoff, +born in 1711, is the author who may with justice be regarded as the +Chaucer or the Boccacio of the North: a man of immense and varied accomplishments, +distinguished in almost every department of literature, and in many +of the walks of science. An orator and a poet, he adorned the language whose +principles he had fixed as a grammarian.</p> + +<p>He was the first to write in the spoken language of his country, and, in +conjunction with his two contemporaries, Soumarókoff and Kheráskoff, he laid +the foundations of the Russian literature.</p> + +<p>Of the other two names we have mentioned as entitled to share the reverence +due from every Russian to the fathers of his country's letters, it will be +sufficient to remark, that Soumarókoff was the first to introduce tragedy and +opera, and Kheráskoff, the author of two epic poems which we omit to particularize, +as not coming within our present scope, wrote a work entitled +"Cadmus and Harmonia," which may be considered as the first romance. +It is a narrative and metaphysical work, which we should class as a "prose +poem;" the style being considerably elevated above the tone of the "Musa +pedestris."</p> + +<p>The name of Emín comes next in historical, though not literary, importance: +though the greater part of his productions consists of translations, particularly +of those shorter pieces of prose fiction called by the Italians "novelle," +he was the author of a few original pieces, now but little read; his +style bears the marks, like that of Kheráskoff, of heaviness, stiffness, and want +of finish.</p> + +<p>The reputation of Karamzín is too widely spread throughout Europe to +render necessary more than a passing remark as to the additions made by him +to the literature of his country in the department of fiction: he commenced +a romance, of which he only lived to finish a few of the first chapters.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page286" id="page286" title="page286"></a>Naréjniy was the first to paint the real life of Russia—or rather of the South +or Little Russia: in his works there is a good deal of vivacity, but as they are +deformed by defects both in style and taste, his reputation has become almost +extinct. We cannot quit this division of our subject, which refers to romantic +fiction anterior to the appearance of the regular historical novel, without mentioning +the names of two, among a considerable number of authors, distinguished +as having produced short narratives or tales, embodying some historical +event—Polevói and Bestónjeff—the latter of whom wrote, under the +name of Marlínski, a very large number of tales, which have acquired a high +and deserved reputation.</p> + +<p>It is with Zagóskin that we may regard the regular historical novel—viewing +that species of composition as exemplified in the works of Scott—as having +commenced.</p> + +<p>With reference to the present state of romance in Russia, the field is so +extensive as to render impossible, in this place, more than a cursory allusion +to the principal authors and their best-known works: in doing which, we shall +attend more exclusively to those productions of which the subject or treatment +is purely national.</p> + +<p>One of the most popular and prolific writers of fiction is Zagóskin, whose +historical romance "Yoúriy Milosláffskiy," met with great and permanent +success. The epoch of this story is in 1612, a most interesting crisis in the +Russian history, when the valour of Mínin enabled his countrymen to shake +off the hated yoke of Poland. His other work, "Roslavleóff," is less interesting: +the period is 1812. We may also mention his "Iskonsítel"—"the +Tempter"—a fantastic story, in which an imaginary being is represented as +mingling with and influencing the affairs of real life.</p> + +<p>Of Boulgárin, we may mention, besides his "Ivan Vuíjgin," a romance in the +manner of "Gil Blas," the scenery and characters of which are entirely Russian, +two historical novels of considerable importance. "The False Dimítri," and +"Mazeppa,"—the hero of the latter being <i>a real person</i>, and not, as most +readers are aware, a fictitious character invented by Byron.</p> + +<p>Next comes the name of Lajétchnikoff, whose "Last Page" possesses a +reputation, we believe, tolerably extensive throughout Europe. The action +passes during the war between Charles XII. and Peter the Great, and Catharine +plays a chief part in it, as servant of the pastor Glück, becoming empress +at the conclusion. The "House of Ice," by the same writer, is perhaps +more generally known than the preceding work. The last-named romance +depicts with great spirit the struggle between the Russian and foreign parties +in the reign of Anna Ivánovna. But perhaps the most remarkable work of +Lajétchnikoff is the romance entitled "Bassourmán," the scene of which is +laid under Iván III., surnamed the Great.<a name="footnotetag9" +id="footnotetag9"></a><a href="#footnote9"><sup>9</sup></a> Another Polevói (Nikolái) produced +a work of great merit:—"The Oath at the Tomb of Our Lord," a very +faithful picture of the first half of the fifteenth century, and singular from the +circumstance that love plays no part in the drama. Besides this, we owe to +Polevói a wild story entitled "Abbaddon." Veltman produced, under the +title of "Kostshéi the Deathless," a historical study of the manners of the +twelfth century, possessing considerable merit. It would be unjust to omit +the name of a lady, the Countess Shíshkin, who produced the historical novel +"Mikháil Vassílievitch Skópin-Shúisky," which obtained great popularity.</p> + +<p>The picturesque career of Lomonósoff gave materials for a romantic biography +of that poet, the work of Xenophónt Polevói, resembling, in its mixture +of truth and fiction, the "Wahrheit und Dichtung" of Goethe.</p> + +<p>Among the considerable number of romances already mentioned, those exhibiting +scenes of private life and domestic interest have not been neglected. +Kaláshnikoff wrote "The Merchant Jáloboff's Daughter," and the "Kamtchadálka," +<a class="pagenum" name="page287" id="page287" title="page287"></a>both describing the scenery and manners of Siberia; the former +painting various parts of that wild and interesting country, the latter confined +more particularly to the Peninsula of Kamtchátka. Besides Gógol, whose +easy and prolific pen has presented us with so many humorous sketches of +provincial life, we cannot pass over Begitchéff, whose "Khólmsky Family" +possesses much interest; but the delineations of Gógol depend so much for +their effect upon delicate shades of manner, &c., that it is not probable they +can ever be effectively reproduced in another language.</p> + +<p>Mentioning Peróffsky, whose "Monastírka" gives a picture of Russian +interior life, we pass to Gretch, an author of some European reputation. +His "Trip to Germany" describes, with singular piquancy, the manners of +a very curious race—the Germans of St Petersburg; and "Tchérnaia Jénstchina," +"the Black Woman," presents a picture of Russian society, which +was welcomed with great eagerness by the public.</p> + +<p>The object of these pages being to invite the attention of British readers to +a very rich field, in a literature hitherto most unaccountably neglected by the +English public, the present would not be a fit occasion to enter with any +minuteness into the history of Russian letters, or to give, in fact, more than a +passing allusion to its chief features; the translator hopes that he will be excused +for the meagreness of the present notice.</p> + +<p>He will be abundantly repaid for his exertions, by the discovery of any increasing +desire on the part of his countrymen to become more accurately +acquainted with the character of a nation, worthy, he is convinced, of a very +high degree of respect and admiration. How could that acquaintance be so +delightfully, or so effectually made, as by the interchange of literature? The +great works of English genius are read, studied, and admired, throughout the +vast empire of Russia; the language of England is rapidly and steadily extending, +and justice, no less than policy, demands, that many absurd misapprehensions +respecting the social and domestic character, no less than the +history, of Russia, should be dispelled by truth.</p> + +<p>The translator, in conclusion, trusts that it will not be superfluous to specify +one or two of the reasons which induced him to select the present romance, +as the first-fruit of his attempt to naturalize in England the literature +of Russia.</p> + +<p>It is considered as a very good specimen of the author's style; the facts and +characters are all strictly true;<a name="footnotetag10" id="footnotetag10"></a><a href="#footnote10"><sup>10</sup></a> besides this, the author passed many years +in the Caucasus, and made full use of the opportunities he thus enjoyed of becoming +familiar with the language, manners, and scenery of a region on +which the attention of the English public has long been turned with peculiar +interest.</p> + +<p>The picturesqueness as well as the fidelity of his description will, it is +hoped, secure for the tale a favourable reception with a public always +"<i>novitatis avida</i>," and whose appetite, now somewhat palled with the "Bismillahs" +and "Mashallahs" of the ordinary oriental novels, may find some +piquancy in a new variety of Mahomedan life—that of the Caucasian Tartars.</p> + +<p>The Russian language possessing many characters and some few sounds for +which there is no exact equivalent in English, we beg to say a word upon the +method adopted on the present occasion so to represent the Russian orthography, +as to avoid the shocking barbarisms of such combinations as <i>zh</i>, &c. +&c., and to secure, at the same time, an approach to the correct pronunciation. +<a class="pagenum" name="page288" id="page288" title="page288"></a>Throughout these pages the vowels <i>a, e, i, o, y</i>, are supposed to be pronounced +as in French, the diphthong <i>ou</i> as in the word <i>you</i>, the <i>j</i> always with +the French sound.</p> + +<p>With respect to the combinations of consonants employed, <i>kh</i> has the gutteral +sound of the <i>ch</i> in the Scottish word <i>loch</i>, and <i>gh</i> is like a rather rough +or coarse aspirate.</p> + +<p>The simple <i>g</i> is invariably to be uttered hard, as in <i>gun</i> or <i>gall</i>.</p> + +<p>To avoid the possibility of errors, the combination <i>tch</i>, though not a very +soft one to the eye, represents a Russian sound for which there is no character +in English. It is, of course, uttered as in the word <i>watch</i>.</p> + +<p>As a great deal of the apparent discord of Russian words, as pronounced by +foreigners, arises from ignorance of the place of the accent, we have added a +sign over every polysyllable word, indicating the part on which the stress is +to be laid.</p> + +<p>The few preceding rules will, the translator hopes, enable his countrymen +to <i>attack</i> the pronunciation of the Russian names without the ancient dread +inspired by terrific and complicated clusters of consonants; and will perhaps +prove to them that the language is both an easy and a melodious one.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p><i>St Petersburg, November</i> 10, 1842.</p></div> + + + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + +<div class="blkquot"> +<p>"Be slow to offend—swift to revenge!"</p> +<p><i>Inscription on a dagger of Daghestán.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>It was Djoumá.<a name="footnotetag11" id="footnotetag11"></a><a href="#footnote11"><sup>11</sup></a> Not far from +Bouináki, a considerable village of +Northern Daghestán, the young Tartars +were assembled for their national +exercise called "djigítering;" that is, +the horse-race accompanied by various +trials of boldness and strength. Bouináki +is situated upon two ledges of +the precipitous rocks of the mountain: +on the left of the road leading from +Derbend to Tarki, rises, soaring above +the town, the crest of Caucasus, feathered +with wood; on the right, the +shore, sinking imperceptibly, spreads +itself out into meadows, on which the +Caspian Sea pours its eternal murmur, +like the voice of human multitudes.</p> + +<p>A vernal day was fading into evening, +and all the inhabitants, attracted +rather by the coolness of the breeze +than by any feeling of curiosity, had +quitted their sáklas,<a name="footnotetag12" id="footnotetag12"></a><a href="#footnote12"><sup>12</sup></a> and assembled +in crowds on both sides of the road. +The women, without veils, and with +coloured kerchiefs rolled like turbans +round their heads, clad in the long +chemise,<a name="footnotetag13" id="footnotetag13"></a><a href="#footnote13"><sup>13</sup></a> confined by the short arkhaloúkh, +and wide toumáns,<a name="footnotetag14" id="footnotetag14"></a><a href="#footnote14"><sup>14</sup></a> sat in +rows, while strings of children sported +before them. The men, assembled in +little groups, stood, or rested on their +knees;<a name="footnotetag15" id="footnotetag15"></a><a href="#footnote15"><sup>15</sup></a> others, in twos or threes, +walked slowly round, smoking tobacco +in little wooden pipes: a cheerful +buzz arose, and ever and anon resounded +the clattering of hoofs, and +the cry "katch, katch!" (make way!) +from the horsemen preparing for the +race.</p> + +<p>Nature, in Daghestán, is most +lovely in the month of May. Millions +of roses poured their blushes over the +<a class="pagenum" name="page289" id="page289" title="page289"></a>crags; their odour was streaming in +the air; the nightingale was not silent +in the green twilight of the wood, almond-trees, +all silvered with their +flowers, arose like the cupolas of a +pagoda, and resembled, with their +lofty branches twined with leaves, +the minarets of some Mussulman +mosque. Broad-breasted oaks, like +sturdy old warriors, rose here and +there, while poplars and chenart-trees, +assembled in groups and surrounded +by underwood, looked like children +ready to wander away to the mountains, +to escape the summer heats. +Sportive flocks of sheep—their fleeces +speckled with rose-colour; buffaloes +wallowing in the mud of the fountains, +or for hours together lazily butting +each other with their horns; here and +there on the mountains noble steeds, +which moved (their manes floating on +the breeze) with a haughty trot along +the hills—such is the frame that encloses +the picture of every Mussulman +village. On this Djoumá, the +neighbourhood of Bouináki was more +than usually animated. The sun +poured his floods of gold on the dark +walls of the flat-roofed sáklas, clothing +them with fantastic shadows, and +adding beauty to their forms. In the +distance, crawling along the mountain, +the creaking arbas<a name="footnotetag16" id="footnotetag16"></a><a href="#footnote16"><sup>16</sup></a> flitted among +the grave-stones of a little burial-ground ... past +them, before +them, flew a horseman, raising the +dust along the road ... the mountain +crest and the boundless sea gave +grandeur to this picture, and all nature +breathed a glow of life.</p> + +<p>"He comes, he comes!" was murmured +through the crowd; all was in +motion. The horsemen, who till now +had been chattering with their acquaintance +on foot, or disorderedly +riding about the meadow, now leaped +upon their steeds, and dashed forward +to meet the cavalcade which was descending +to the plain: it was Ammalát +Bek, the nephew of the Shamkhál<a name="footnotetag17" id="footnotetag17"></a><a href="#footnote17"><sup>17</sup></a> +of Tarki, with his suite. He +was habited in a black Persian cloak, +edged with gold-lace, the hanging +sleeves thrown back over his shoulders. +A Turkish shawl was wound +round his arkhaloúkh, which was made +of flowered silk. Red shalwárs were +lost in his yellow high-heeled riding-boots. +His gun, dagger, and +pistol, glittered with gold and silver +arabesque work. The hilt of his +sabre was enriched with gems. The +Prince of Tarki was a tall, well-made +youth, of frank countenance; black +curls streamed behind his ears from +under his cap—a slight mustache +shaded his upper lip—his eyes glittered +with a proud courtesy. He rode +a bright bay steed, which fretted under +his hand like a whirlwind. Contrary +to custom, the horse's caparison was +not the round Persian housing, embroidered +all over with silk, but the +light Circassian saddle, ornamented +with silver on a black ground; and +the stirrups were of the black steel of +Kharamán, inlaid with gold. Twenty +noúkers<a name="footnotetag18" id="footnotetag18"></a><a href="#footnote18"><sup>18</sup></a> on spirited horses, and +dressed in cloaks glittering with lace, +their caps cocked jauntily, and leaning +affectedly on one side, pranced +and sidled after him. The people +respectfully stood up before their Bek, +and bowed, pressing their right hand +upon their right knee. A murmur of +whispered approbation followed the +young chief as he passed among the +women. Arrived at the southern extremity +of the ground, Ammalát stopped. +The chief people, the old men +leaning upon their sticks, and the +elders of Bouináki, stood round in a +circle to catch a kind word from the +Bek; but Ammalát did not pay them +any particular attention, and with cold +politeness replied in monosyllables to +the flatteries and obeisances of his inferiors. +He waved his hand; this was +the signal to commence the race.</p> + +<p>Twenty of the most fiery horsemen +dashed forward, without the slightest +order or regularity, galloping onward +and back again, placing themselves in +all kinds of attitudes, and alternately +passing each other. At one moment +<a class="pagenum" name="page290" id="page290" title="page290"></a>they jostled one another from the +course, and at the same time held in +their horses, then again they let them +go at full gallop over the plain. After +this, they each took slender sticks, +called djigidís, and darted them as they +rode, either in the charge or the pursuit, +and again seizing them as they +flew, or picking them up from the +earth. Several tumbled from their +saddles under the strong blows; and +then resounded the loud laugh of the +spectators, while loud applauses greeted +the conqueror; sometimes the horses +stumbled, and the riders were thrown +over their heads, hurled off by a double +force from the shortness of their +stirrups. Then commenced the shooting. +Ammalát Bek had remained a +little apart, looking on with apparent +pleasure. His noúkers, one after the +other, had joined the crowd of djigíterers, +so that, at last, only two were +left by his side. For some time he +was immovable, and followed with +an indifferent gaze the imitation of an +Asiatic combat; but by degrees his +interest grew stronger. At first he +watched the cavaliers with great attention, +then he began to encourage +them by his voice and gestures, he +rose higher in his stirrups, and at last +the warrior-blood boiled in his veins, +when his favourite noúker could not +hit a cap which he had thrown down +before him. He snatched his gun +from his attendants, and dashed forward +like an arrow, winding among +the sporters. "Make way—make way!" +was heard around, and all, dispersing +like a rain-cloud on either side, gave +place to Ammalát Bek.</p> + +<p>At the distance of a verst<a name="footnotetag19" id="footnotetag19"></a><a href="#footnote19"><sup>19</sup></a> stood ten +poles with caps hanging on them. +Ammalát rode straight up to them, +waved his gun round his head, and +turned close round the pole; as he +turned he stood up in his stirrups, +turned back—bang!—the cap tumbled +to the ground; without checking his +speed he reloaded, the reins hanging +on his horse's neck—knocked off another, +then a third—and so on the +whole ten. A murmur of applause +arose on all sides; but Ammalát, +without stopping, threw his gun into +the hands of one of his noúkers, pulled +out a pistol from his belt, and with +the ball struck the shoe from the hind +foot of his horse; the shoe flew off, +and fell far behind him; he then again +took his gun from his noúker, and +ordered him to gallop on before him. +Quicker than thought both darted +forward. When half-way round the +course, the noúker drew from his +pocket a rouble, and threw it up in +the air. Ammalát raised himself in +the saddle, without waiting till it fell; +but at the very instant his horse stumbled +with all his four legs together, +and striking the dust with his nostrils, +rolled prostrate. All uttered a cry of +terror; but the dexterous horseman, +standing up in the stirrups, without +losing his seat, or even leaning forward, +as if he had been aware that he +was going to fall, fired rapidly, and +hitting the rouble with his ball, hurled +it far among the people. The crowd +shouted with delight—"Igeed, igeed! +(bravo!) Alla valla-ha!" But Ammalát +Bek, modestly retiring, dismounted +from his steed, and throwing +the reins to his djilladár, (groom,) ordered +him immediately to have the +horse shod. The race and the shooting +was continued.</p> + +<p>At this moment there rode up to +Ammalát his emdjék,<a name="footnotetag20" id="footnotetag20"></a><a href="#footnote20"><sup>20</sup></a> Saphir-Ali, the +son of one of the poor beks of Bouináki, +a young man of an agreeable +exterior, and simple, cheerful character. +He had grown up with Ammalát, +and therefore treated him with great +familiarity. He leaped from his horse, +and nodding his head, exclaimed—"Noúker +Mémet Rasoúl has knocked +up the old cropped<a name="footnotetag21" id="footnotetag21"></a><a href="#footnote21"><sup>21</sup></a> stallion, in trying +to leap him over a ditch seven +paces wide." "And did he leap it?" +cried Ammalát impatiently. "Bring +him instantly to me!" He went to +meet the horse—and without putting +his foot in the stirrup, leaped into the +saddle, and galloped to the bed of a +mountain-torrent. As he galloped, he +pressed the horse with his knee, but +the wearied animal, not trusting to his +strength, bolted aside on the very +<a class="pagenum" name="page291" id="page291" title="page291"></a>brink, and Ammalát was obliged to +make another turn. The second time, +the steed, stimulated by the whip, +reared up on his hind-legs in order to +leap the ditch, but he hesitated, grew +restive, and resisted with his fore-feet. +Ammalát grew angry. In vain did +Saphir-Ali entreat him not to force +the horse, which had lost in many a +combat and journey the elasticity of +his limbs. Ammalát would not listen +to any thing; but urging him with a +cry, and striking him with his drawn +sabre for the third time, he galloped +him at the ravine; and when, for the +third time, the old horse stopped short +in his stride, not daring to leap, he +struck him so violently on the head +with the hilt of his sabre, that he fell +lifeless on the earth.</p> + +<p>"This is the reward of faithful service!" +said Saphir-Ali, compassionately, +as he gazed on the lifeless +steed.</p> + +<p>"This is the reward of disobedience!" +replied Ammalát, with flashing +eyes.</p> + +<p>Seeing the anger of the Bek, all +were silent. The horsemen, however, +continued their djigítering.</p> + +<p>And suddenly was heard the thunder +of Russian drums, and the bayonets +of Russian soldiers glittered as +they wound over the hill. It was a +company of the Kourínsky regiment +of infantry, sent from a detachment +which had been dispatched to Akoúsh, +then in a state of revolt, under Sheikh +Ali Khan, the banished chief of Derbend. +This company had been protecting +a convoy of supplies from Derbend, +whither it was returning by the +mountain road. The commander of +the company, Captain ——, and one +officer with him, rode in front. Before +they had reached the race-course, +the retreat was beaten, and the company +halted, throwing aside their +havresacks and piling their muskets, +but without lighting a fire.</p> + +<p>The arrival of a Russian detachment +could have been no novelty to +the inhabitants of Daghestán in the +year 1819; and even yet, it must be +confessed, it is an event that gives +them no pleasure. Superstition made +them look on the Russians as eternal +enemies—enemies, however, vigorous +and able; and they determined, therefore, +not to injure them but in secret, +by concealing their hatred under a +mask of amity. A buzz spread among +the people on the appearance of the +Russians: the women returned by +winding paths to the village, not forgetting, +however, to gaze secretly at +the strangers. The men, on the contrary, +threw fierce glances at them +over their shoulders, and began to assemble +in groups, discussing how they +might best get rid of them, and relieve +themselves from the podvód<a name="footnotetag22" id="footnotetag22"></a><a href="#footnote22"><sup>22</sup></a>, and so +on. A multitude of loungers and boys, +however, surrounded the Russians as +they reposed upon the grass. Some +of the Kekkhoúds (starosts<a name="footnotetag23" id="footnotetag23"></a><a href="#footnote23"><sup>23</sup></a>) and +Tehaoúshes (desiátniks<a name="footnotetag24" id="footnotetag24"></a><a href="#footnote24"><sup>24</sup></a>) appointed +by the Russian Government, hastily +advancing to the Captain, pulled off +their caps, after the usual salutation, +"Khot ghialdi!" (welcome!) and +"Yakshimoúsen, tazamoúsen, sen-ne-ma-moúsen," +(I greet you,) arrived +at the inevitable question at a meeting +of Asiatics, "What news?"—"Na +khaber?"</p> + +<p>"The only news with me is, that +my horse has cast a shoe, and the +poor devil is dead lame," answered +the Captain in pretty good Tartar: +"and here is, just <i>ápropos</i>, a blacksmith!" +he continued, turning to a +broad-shouldered Tartar, who was +filing the fresh-shod hoof of Ammalát's +horse. "Kounák! (my friend,)—shoe +my horse—the shoes are ready—'tis +but the clink of a hammer, and +'tis done in a moment!"</p> + +<p>The blacksmith turned sulkily towards +the Captain a face tanned by his +forge and by the sun, looked from the +corners of his eyes at his questioner, +stroked the thick mustache which +overshadowed a beard long unrazored, +and which might for its bristles have +done honour to any boar; flattened +his arákshin (bonnet) on his head, +and coolly continued putting away his +tools in their bag.</p> + +<p>"Do you understand me, son of a +wolf race?" said the Captain.</p> + +<p>"I understand you well," answered +the blacksmith,—"you want your +horse shod."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page292" id="page292" title="page292"></a>"And I should advise you to shoe +him," replied the Captain, observing +on the part of the Tartar a desire to +jest.</p> + +<p>"To-day is a holiday: I will not +work."</p> + +<p>"I will pay you what you like for +your work; but I tell you that, whether +you like it or not, you must do what +I want."</p> + +<p>"The will of Allah is above ours; +and he does not permit us to work on +Djoumá. We sin enough for gain on +common days, so on a holiday I do +not wish to buy coals with silver."<a name="footnotetag25" id="footnotetag25"></a><a href="#footnote25"><sup>25</sup></a></p> + +<p>"But were you not at work just +now, obstinate blockhead? Is not +one horse the same as another? +Besides, mine is a real Mussulman—look +at the mark<a name="footnotetag26" id="footnotetag26"></a><a href="#footnote26"><sup>26</sup></a>—the blood of Karabákh."</p> + +<p>"All horses are alike; but not so +those who ride them: Ammalát Bek +is my aga (lord.)"</p> + +<p>"That is, if you had taken it into +your head to refuse him, he would have +had your ears cropped; but you will +not work for me, in the hope that I +would not dare to do the same. Very +well, my friend! I certainly will not +crop your ears, but be assured that I +will warm that orthodox back of yours +with two hundred pretty stinging +nogaikas (lashes with a whip) if you +won't leave off your nonsense—do you +hear?"</p> + +<p>"I hear—and I answer as I did before: +I will not shoe the horse—for I +am a good Mussulman."</p> + +<p>"And I will make you shoe him, +because I am a good soldier. As you +have worked at the will of your Bek, +you shall work for the need of a Russian +officer—without this I cannot proceed. +Corporals, forward!"</p> + +<p>In the mean time a circle of gazers +had been extending round the obstinate +blacksmith, like a ring made in +the water by casting a stone into it. +Some in the crowd were disputing the +best places, hardly knowing what they +were running to see; and at last more +cries were heard: "It is not fair—it +cannot be: to-day is a holiday: to-day +it is a sin to work!" Some of the +boldest, trusting to their numbers, +pulled their caps over their eyes, and +felt at the hilts of their daggers, pressing +close up to the Captain, and crying +"Don't shoe him, Alékper! Do +nothing for him: here's news, my masters! +What new prophets for us are +these unwashed Russians?" The Captain +was a brave man, and thoroughly +understood the Asiatics. "Away, ye +rascals!" he cried in a rage, laying +his hand on the butt of his pistol. "Be +silent, or the first that dares to let an +insult pass his teeth, shall have them +closed with a leaden seal!"</p> + +<p>This threat, enforced by the bayonets +of some of the soldiers, succeeded +immediately: they who were timid +took to their heels—the bolder held +their tongues. Even the orthodox +blacksmith, seeing that the affair was +becoming serious, looked round on all +sides, and muttered "Nedjelaim?" +(What can I do?) tucked up his +sleeves, pulled out from his bag the +hammer and pincers, and began to +shoe the Russian's horse, grumbling +between his teeth, "<i>Vala billa beetmi +eddeem</i>, (I will not do it, by God!)" +It must be remarked that all this took +place out of Ammalát's presence. He +had hardly looked at the Russians, +when, in order to avoid a disagreeable +rencontre, he mounted the horse +which had just been shod, and galloped +off to Bouináki, where his house +was situated.</p> + +<p>While this was taking place at one +end of the exercising ground, a horseman +rode up to the front of the +reposing soldiers. He was of middling +stature, but of athletic frame, and was +clothed in a shirt of linked mail, his +head protected by a helmet, and in +full warlike equipment, and followed +by five noúkers. By their dusty +dress, and the foam which covered +their horses, it might be seen that they +had ridden far and fast. The first +horseman, fixing his eye on the soldiers, +advanced slowly along the piles +of muskets, upsetting the two pyramids +of fire-arms. The noúkers, following +the steps of their master, far +from turning aside, coolly rode over +the scattered weapons. The sentry, +who had challenged them while they were +yet at some distance, and warned +them not to approach, seized the bit +<a class="pagenum" name="page293" id="page293" title="page293"></a>of the steed bestridden by the mail-coated +horseman, while the rest of the +soldiers, enraged at such an insult +from a Mussulman, assailed the party +with abuse. "Hold hard! Who are +you?" was the challenge and question +of the sentinel. "Thou must be a +raw recruit if thou knowest not Sultan +Akhmet Khan of Avár,"<a name="footnotetag27" id="footnotetag27"></a><a href="#footnote27"><sup>27</sup></a> coolly +answered the man in mail, shaking off +the hand of the sentry from his reins. +"I think last year I left the Russians +a keepsake at Báshli. Translate that +for him," he said to one of his noúkers. +The Aváretz repeated his words +in pretty intelligible Russian.</p> + +<p>"'Tis Akhmet Khan! Akhmet +Khan!" shouted the soldiers. "Seize +him! hold him fast! down with him! +pay him for the affair of Báshli<a name="footnotetag28" id="footnotetag28"></a><a href="#footnote28"><sup>28</sup></a>—the +villains cut our wounded to pieces."</p> + +<p>"Away, brute!" cried Sultan Akhmet +Khan to the soldier who had again +seized the bridle of his horse—"I am +a Russian general."</p> + +<p>"A Russian traitor!" roared a multitude +of voices; "bring him to the +Captain: drag him to Derbend, to +Colonel Verkhóffsky."</p> + +<p>"'Tis only to hell I would go with +such guides!" said Akhmet, with a +contemptuous smile, and making his +horse rear, he turned him to the right +and left; then, with a blow of the +nogaik,<a name="footnotetag29" id="footnotetag29"></a><a href="#footnote29"><sup>29</sup></a> he made him leap into the +air, and disappeared. The noúkers +kept their eye on the movements of +their chief, and uttering their warcry, +followed his steps, and overthrowing +several of the soldiers, cleared a +way for themselves into the road. After +galloping off to a distance of scarce +a hundred paces, the Khan rode away +at a slow walk, with an expression of +the greatest <i>sang-froid</i>, not deigning +to look back, and coolly playing with +his bridle. The crowd of Tartars +assembled round the blacksmith attracted +his attention. "What are +you quarrelling about, friends?" asked +Akhmet Khan of the nearest, reining +in his horse.</p> + +<p>In sign of respect and reverence, +they all applied their hands to their +foreheads when they saw the Khan. +The timid or peaceably disposed among +them, dreading the consequences, either +from the Russians or the Khan, to +which this rencontre might expose +them, exhibited much discomfiture at +the question; but the idle, the ruffian, +and the desperate—for all beheld with +hatred the Russian domination—crowded +turbulently round him with +delight. They hurriedly told him +what was the matter.</p> + +<p>"And you stand, like buffaloes, +stupidly looking on, while they force +your brother to work like a brute +under the yoke!" exclaimed the Khan, +gloomily, to the bystanders; "while +they laugh in your face at your customs, +and trample your faith under +their feet! and ye whine like old women, +instead of revenging yourselves +like men! Cowards! cowards!"</p> + +<p>"What can we do?" cried a multitude +of voices together; "the Russians +have cannon—they have bayonets!"</p> + +<p>"And ye, have ye not guns? have +ye not daggers? It is not the Russians +that are brave, but ye that are +cowards! Shame of Mussulmans! +The sword of Daghestán trembles +before the Russian whip. Ye are +afraid of the roll of the cannon; but +ye fear not the reproach of cowardice. +The fermán of a Russian prístav<a name="footnotetag30" id="footnotetag30"></a><a href="#footnote30"><sup>30</sup></a> is +holier to you than a chapter of the +Koran. Siberia frightens you more +than hell. Did your forefathers act, +did your forefathers think thus? They +counted not their enemies, they calculated +not. Outnumbered or not, +they met them, bravely fought them, +and gloriously died! And what fear +ye? Have the Russians ribs of iron? +Have their cannon no breach? Is it +not by the tail that you seize the scorpion?" +This address stirred the crowd. +The Tartar vanity was touched to the +quick. "What do we care for them? +Why do we let them lord it over us +<a class="pagenum" name="page294" id="page294" title="page294"></a>here?" was heard around. "Let us +liberate the blacksmith from his work—let +us liberate him!" they roared, as +they narrowed their circle round the +Russian soldiers, amidst whom Alékper +was shoeing the captain's horse. +The confusion increased. Satisfied +with the tumult he had created, Sultan +Akhmet Khan, not wishing to mix +himself up in an insignificant brawl, +rode out of the crowd, leaving two +noúkers to keep alive the violent spirit +among the Tartars, while, accompanied +by the remainder, he rode rapidly +to the ootakh<a name="footnotetag31" id="footnotetag31"></a><a href="#footnote31"><sup>31</sup></a> of Ammalát.</p> + +<p>"Mayest thou be victorious," said +Sultan Akhmet Khan to Ammalát +Bek, who received him at the threshold. +This ordinary salutation, in the +Circassian language, was pronounced +with so marked an emphasis, that +Ammalát as he kissed him, asked, +"Is that a jest or a prophecy, my fair +guest?"</p> + +<p>"That depends on thee," replied +the Sultan. "It is upon the right +heir of the Shamkhalát<a name="footnotetag32" id="footnotetag32"></a><a href="#footnote32"><sup>32</sup></a> that it +depends to draw the sword from the +scabbard."</p> + +<p>"To sheath it no more, Khan? An +unenviable destiny. Methinks it is +better to reign in Bouináki, than for +an empty title to be obliged to hide +in the mountains like a jackal."</p> + +<p>"To bound from the mountains like +a lion, Ammalát; and to repose, after +your glorious toils, in the palace of +your ancestors."</p> + +<p>"To repose? Is it not better not +to be awakened at all?</p> + +<p>"Would you behold but in a dream +what you ought to possess in reality? +The Russians are giving you the +poppy, and will lull you with tales, +while another plucks the golden +flowers of the garden."<a name="footnotetag33" id="footnotetag33"></a><a href="#footnote33"><sup>33</sup></a></p> + +<p>"What can I do with my force?"</p> + +<p>"Force—that is in thy soul, +Ammalát!... Despise dangers and +they bend before you.... Dost thou +hear that?" added Sultan Akhmet +Khan, as the sound of firing reached +them from the town. "It is the voice +of victory!"</p> + +<p>Saphir-Ali rushed into the chamber +with an agitated face.</p> + +<p>"Bouináki is in revolt," he hurriedly +began; "a crowd of rioters +has overpowered the detachment, and +they have begun to fire from the +rocks."<a name="footnotetag34" id="footnotetag34"></a><a href="#footnote34"><sup>34</sup></a></p> + +<p>"Rascals!" cried Ammalát, as he +threw his gun over his shoulder. +"How dared they to rise without me! +Run, Saphir-Ali, threaten them with +my name; kill the first who disobeys."</p> + +<p>"I have done all I could to restrain +them," said Saphir-Ali, "but none +would listen to me, for the noúkers of +Sultan Akhmet Khan were urging +them on, saying that he had ordered +them to slay the Russians."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! did my noúkers say +that?" asked the Khan.</p> + +<p>"They did not say so much, but +they set the example," said Saphir-Ali.</p> + +<p>"In that case they have done well," +replied Sultan Akhmet Khan: "this +is brave!"</p> + +<p>"What hast thou done, Khan!" +cried Ammalát, angrily.</p> + +<p>"What you might have done long +ago!"</p> + +<p>"How can I justify myself to the +Russians?"</p> + +<p>"With lead and steel.... The +firing is begun.... Fate works for +you ... the sword is drawn ... let us +go seek the Russians!"</p> + +<p>"They are here!" cried the Captain, +who, followed by two men, had +broken through the disorderly ranks +of the Tartars, and dashed into the +house of their chief. Confounded by +the unexpected outbreak in which +he was certain to be considered a +party, Ammalát saluted his enraged +<a class="pagenum" name="page295" id="page295" title="page295"></a>guest—"Come in peace!" he said to +him in Tartar.</p> + +<p>"I care not whether I come in +peace or no," answered the Captain, +"but I find no peaceful reception in +Bouináki. Thy Tartars, Ammalát, +have dared to fire upon a soldier of +mine, of yours, a subject of our +Tsar."</p> + +<p>"In very deed, 'twas absurd to fire +on a Russian," said the Khan, contemptuously +stretching himself on the +cushions of the divan, "when they +might have cut his throat."</p> + +<p>"Here is the cause of all the mischief, +Ammalát!" said the Captain, +angrily, pointing to the Khan; "but +for this insolent rebel not a trigger +would have been pulled in Bouináki! +But you have done well, Ammalát +Bek, to invite Russians as friends, +and to receive their foe as a guest, to +shelter him as a comrade, to honour +him as a friend! Ammalát Bek, this +man is named in the order of the +commander-in-chief; give him up."</p> + +<p>"Captain," answered Ammalát, +"with us a guest is sacred. To give +him up would be a sin upon my soul, +an ineffaceable shame upon my head; +respect my entreaty; respect our +customs."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you, in your turn—respect +the Russian laws. Remember +your duty. You have sworn allegiance +to the Tsar, and your oath obliges +you not to spare your own brother +if he is a criminal."</p> + +<p>"Rather would I give up my brother +than my guest, Sir Captain! It +is not for you to judge my promises +and obligations. My tribunal is Allah +and the padishah! In the field, +let fortune take care of the Khan; +but within my threshold, beneath my +roof, I am bound to be his protector, +and I will be!"</p> + +<p>"And you shall be answerable for +this traitor!"</p> + +<p>The Khan had lain in haughty silence +during this dispute, breathing +the smoke from his pipe: but at the +word "traitor," his blood was fired, +he started up, and rushed indignantly +to the Captain.</p> + +<p>"Traitor, say you?" he cried. +"Say rather, that I refused to betray +him to whom I was bound by promise. +The Russian padishah gave +me rank, the sardar<a name="footnotetag35" id="footnotetag35"></a><a href="#footnote35"><sup>35</sup></a> caressed me—and +I was faithful so long as they demanded +of me nothing impossible or +humiliating. But, all of a sudden, they +wished me to admit troops into Avár—to +permit fortresses to be built +there; and what name should I have +deserved, if I had sold the blood and +sweat of the Aváretzes, my brethren! +If I had attempted this, think ye that +I could have done it? A thousand +free daggers, a thousand unhired bullets, +would have flown to the heart of +the betrayer. The very rocks would +have fallen on the son who could betray +his father. I refused the friendship +of the Russians; but I was not +their enemy—and what was the reward +of my just intentions, my honest +counsels? I was deeply, personally +insulted by the letter of one of your +generals, whom I had warned. That +insolence cost him dear at Báshli ... I +shed a river of blood for some few +drops of insulting ink, and that river +divides us for ever."</p> + +<p>"That blood cries for vengeance!" +replied the enraged Captain. "Thou +shalt not escape it, robber!"</p> + +<p>"Nor thou from me!" shouted the +infuriated Khan, plunging his dagger +into the body of the Captain, as he +lifted his hand to seize him by the collar. +Severely wounded, the officer +fell groaning on the carpet.</p> + +<p>"Thou hast undone me!" cried +Ammalát, wringing his hands. "He +is a Russian, and my guest!"</p> + +<p>"There are insults which a roof +cannot cover," sullenly replied the +Khan. "The die is cast: it is no +time to hesitate. Shut your gate, call +your people, and let us attack the +enemy."</p> + +<p>"An hour ago I had no enemy ... there +are no means now for repulsing +them ... I have neither powder nor +ball ... The people are dispersed."</p> + +<p>"They have fled!" cried Saphir-Ali +in despair. "The Russians are +advancing at full march over the hill. +They are close at hand!"</p> + +<p>"If so, go with me, Ammalát!" +said the Khan. "I rode to Tchetchná +yesterday, to raise the revolt along +<a class="pagenum" name="page296" id="page296" title="page296"></a>the line ... What will be the end, +God knows; but there is bread in the +mountains. Do you consent?"</p> + +<p>"Let us go!" ... replied Ammalát, +resolvedly.... "When our +only safety is in flight, it is no time +for disputes and reproaches."</p> + +<p>"Ho! horses, and six noúkers with +me!"</p> + +<p>"And am I to go with you?" said +Saphir-Ali, with tears in his eyes—"with +you for weal or woe!"</p> + +<p>"No, my good Saphir-Ali, no. +Remain you here to govern the household, +that our people and the strangers +may not seize every thing. Give my +greeting to my wife, and take her +to my father-in-law, the Shamkhál. +Forget me not, and farewell!"</p> + +<p>They had barely time to escape at +full gallop by one gate, when the Russians +dashed in at the other.</p> + + +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p>The vernal noon was shining upon +the peaks of Caucasus, and the loud +voices of the moollahs had called the +inhabitants of Tchetchná to prayer. +By degrees they came forth from the +mosques, and though invisible to each +other from the towers on which they +stood, their solitary voices, after awaking +for a moment the echoes of the +hills, sank to stillness in the silent +air.</p> + +<p>The moollah, Hadji Suleiman, a +Turkish devotee, one of those missionaries +annually sent into the mountains +by the Divan of Stamboul, to +spread and strengthen the faith, and +to increase the detestation felt by the +inhabitants for the Russians, was reposing +on the roof of the mosque, +having performed the usual call, ablution, +and prayer. He had not been long +installed as moollah of Igáli, a +village of Tchetchná; and plunged in +a deep contemplation of his hoary +beard, and the circling smoke-wreaths +that rose from his pipe, he gazed from +time to time with a curious interest +on the mountains, and on the defiles +which lay towards the north, right +before his eyes. On the left arose the +precipitous ridges dividing Tchetchná +from Avár, and beyond them glittered +the snows of Caucasus; sáklas scattered +disorderly along the ridges half-way +up the mountain, and narrow +paths led to these fortresses built by +nature, and employed by the hill-robbers +to defend their liberty, or secure +their plunder. All was still in the +village and the surrounding hills; +there was not a human being to be +seen on the roads or streets; flocks of +sheep were reposing in the shade of +the cliffs; the buffaloes were crowded +in the muddy swamps near the springs, +with only their muzzles protruded +from the marsh. Nought save the +hum of the insects—nought save the +monotonous chirp of the grasshoppers +indicated life amid the breathless +silence of the mountains; and Hadji +Suleiman, stretched under the cupola, +was intensely enjoying the stillness +and repose of nature, so congenial to +the lazy immobility of the Turkish +character. Indolently he turned his +eyes, whose fire was extinguished, and +which no longer reflected the light of +the sun, and at length they fell upon +two horsemen, slowly climbing the +opposite side of the declivity.</p> + +<p>"Néphtali!" cried our Moollah, +turning towards a neighbouring sákla, +at the gate of which stood a saddled +horse. And then a handsome Tchetchenetz, +with short cut beard, and +shaggy cap covering half his face, ran +out into the street. "I see two horsemen," +continued the Moollah; "they +are riding round the village!"</p> + +<p>"Most likely Jews or Armenians," +answered Néphtali. "They do not +choose to hire a guide, and will break +their necks in the winding road. The +wild-goats, and our boldest riders, +would not plunge into these recesses +without precaution."</p> + +<p>"No, brother Néphtali; I have +been twice to Mecca, and have seen +plenty of Jews and Armenians every +where. But these riders look not like +Hebrew chafferers, unless, indeed, they +exchange steel for gold in the mountain +road. They have no bales of +merchandise. Look at them yourself +from above; your eyes are surer than +mine; mine have had their day, and +done their work. There was a time +when I could count the buttons on a +Russian soldier's coat a verst off, and +<a class="pagenum" name="page297" id="page297" title="page297"></a>my rifle never missed an infidel; but +now I could not distinguish a ram of +my own afar."</p> + +<p>By this time Néphtali was at the +side of the Moollah, and was examining +the travellers with an eagle +glance.</p> + +<p>"The noonday is hot, and the road +rugged," said Suleiman; "invite the +travellers to refresh themselves and +their horses: perhaps they have news: +besides, the Koran commands us to +show hospitality."</p> + +<p>"With us in the mountains, and +before the Koran, never did a stranger +leave a village hungry or sad; never +did he depart without tchourek,<a name="footnotetag36" id="footnotetag36"></a><a href="#footnote36"><sup>36</sup></a> without +blessing, without a guide; but these +people are suspicious: why do they +avoid honest men, and pass our village +by by-roads, and with danger to their +life?"</p> + +<p>"It seems that they are your countrymen," +said Suleiman, shading his +eyes with his hand: "their dress is +Tchetchná. Perhaps they are returning +from a plundering exhibition, to +which your father went with a hundred +of his neighbours; or perhaps they are +brothers, going to revenge blood for +blood."</p> + +<p>"No, Suleiman, that is not like us. +Could a mountaineer's heart refrain +from coming to see his countrymen—to +boast of his exploits against the +Russians, and to show his booty? +These are neither avengers of blood +nor Abreks—their faces are not covered +by the báshlik; besides, dress is deceptive. +Who can tell that those are +not Russian deserters! The other +day a Kázak, who had murdered his +master, fled from Goumbet-Aoúl with +his horse and arms.... The devil is +strong!"</p> + +<p>"He is strong in them in whom +the faith is weak, Néphtali;—yet, if +I mistake not, the hinder horseman +has hair flowing from under his cap."</p> + +<p>"May I be pounded to dust, but it +is so! It is either a Russian, or, what +is worse, a Tartar Shageed.<a name="footnotetag37" id="footnotetag37"></a><a href="#footnote37"><sup>37</sup></a> Stop a +moment, my friend; I will comb your +zilflárs for you! In half-an-hour I will +return, Suleiman, either with them,—or +one of us three shall feed the mountain +berkoots (eagles.)"</p> + +<p>Néphtali rushed down the stairs, +threw the gun on his shoulders, leapt +into his saddle and dashed down the +hill, caring neither for furrow nor stone. +Only the dust arose, and the pebbles +streamed down after the bold horseman."</p> + +<p>"Alla akbér!" gravely exclaimed +Suleiman, and lit his pipe.</p> + +<p>Néphtali soon came up with the +strangers. Their horses were covered +with foam, and the sweat-drops rained +from them on the narrow path by +which they were climbing the mountain. +The first was clothed in a shirt +of mail, the other in the Circassian +dress: except that he wore a Persian +sabre instead of a sháshka,<a name="footnotetag38" id="footnotetag38"></a><a href="#footnote38"><sup>38</sup></a> suspended +by a laced girdle. His left arm was +covered with blood, bound up with a +handkerchief, and supported by the +sword-knot. The faces of both were +concealed. For some time he rode +behind them along the slippery path, +which overhung a precipice; but at +the first open space he galloped by +them, and turned his horse round. +"Salám aleikom!" said he, opposing +their passage along the rugged and +half-built road among the rocks, as he +made ready his arms. The foremost +horseman suddenly wrapped his boúrka<a name="footnotetag39" id="footnotetag39"></a><a href="#footnote39"><sup>39</sup></a> +round his face, so as to leave +visible only his knit brows: "Aleikom +Salám!" answered he, cocking his +gun, and fixing himself in the saddle.</p> + +<p>"God give you a good journey!" +said Néphtali. repeating the usual salutation, +and preparing, at the first +hostile movement, to shoot the stranger.</p> + +<p>"God give you enough of sense not +to interrupt the traveller," replied his +antagonist, impatiently: "What would +you with us, Kounák?"<a name="footnotetag40" id="footnotetag40"></a><a href="#footnote40"><sup>40</sup></a></p> + +<p>"I offer you rest, and a brother's +repast, barley and stalls for your horses. +<a class="pagenum" name="page298" id="page298" title="page298"></a>My threshold flourishes by hospitality: +the blessing of the stranger increaseth +the flock, and giveth sharpness to the +sword of the master. Fix not the seal +of reproach on our whole village. Let +them not say, 'They have seen travellers +in the heat of noon, and +have not refreshed them nor sheltered +them.'"</p> + +<p>"We thank you for your kindness; +but we are not wont to take forced +hospitality; and haste is even more +necessary for us than rest."</p> + +<p>"You ride to your death without a +guide."</p> + +<p>"Guide!" exclaimed the traveller; +"I know every step of the Caucasus. +I have been where your serpents +climb not, your tigers cannot mount, +your eagles cannot fly. Make way, +comrade: thy threshold is not on +God's high-road, and I have no time +to prate with thee."</p> + +<p>"I will not yield a step, till I know +who and whence you are!"</p> + +<p>"Insolent scoundrel, out of my way, +or thy mother shall beg thy bones +from the jackall and the wind! Thank +your luck, Néphtali, that thy father +and I have eaten one another's salt; +and often have ridden by his side in +the battle. Unworthy son! thou art +rambling about the roads, and ready to +attack the peaceable travellers, while +thy father's corse lies rotting on the +fields of Russia, and the wives of the +Kazáks are selling his arms in the +bazar. Néphtali, thy father was slain +yesterday beyond the Térek. Dost +thou know me now?"</p> + +<p>"Sultan Akhmet Khan!" cried the +Tchetchenetz, struck by the piercing +look and by the terrible news. His +voice was stifled, and he fell forward +on his horse's neck in inexpressible +grief.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am Sultan Akhmet Khan! +but grave this in your memory, Néphtali—that +if you say to any one, 'I +have seen the Khan of Avár,' my vengeance +will live from generation to +generation."</p> + +<p>The strangers passed on, the Khan +in silence, plunged, as it seemed, in +painful recollections; Ammalát (for it +was he) in gloomy thought. The dress +of both bore witness to recent fighting; +their mustaches were singed by the +priming, and splashes of blood had +dried upon their faces; but the proud +look of the first seemed to defy to the +combat fate and chance; a gloomy +smile, of hate mingled with scorn, contracted +his lip. On the other hand, +on the features of Ammalát exhaustion +was painted. He could hardly turn +his languid eyes; and from time to time +a groan escaped him, caused by the +pain of his wounded arm. The uneasy +pace of the Tartar horse, unaccustomed +to the mountain roads, renewed +the torment of his wound. He +was the first to break the silence.</p> + +<p>"Why have you refused the offer of +these good people? We might have +stopped an hour or two to repose, +and at dewfall we could have proceeded."</p> + +<p>"You think so, because you feel +like a young man, dear Ammalát: you +are used to rule your Tartars like +slaves, and you fancy that you can +conduct yourself with the same ease +among the free mountaineers. The +hand of fate weighs heavily upon us;—we +are defeated and flying. Hundreds +of brave mountaineers—your +noúkers and my own—have fallen in +fight with the Russians; and the +Tchetchenetz has seen turned to flight +the face of Sultan Akhmet Khan, +which they are wont to behold the +star of victory! To accept the beggar's +repast, perhaps to hear reproaches +for the death of fathers and sons, carried +away by me in this rash expedition—'twould +be to lose their confidence +for ever. Time will pass, tears +will dry up; the thirst of vengeance +will take place of grief for the dead; +and then again Sultan Akhmet will be +seen the prophet of plunder and of +blood. Then again the battle-signal +shall echo through the mountains, and +I shall once more lead flying bands of +avengers into the Russian limits. If I +go now, in the moment of defeat, the +Tchetchenetz will judge that Allah +giveth and taketh away victory. They +may offend me by rash words, and +with me an offence is ineffaceable; and +the revenge of a personal offence would +obstruct the road that leads me to the +Russians. Why, then, provoke a quarrel +with a brave people—and destroy +the idol of glory on which they are +wont to gaze with rapture? Never +does man appear so mean as in weakness, +when every one can measure +his strength with him fearlessly: besides, +you need a skilful leech, and +nowhere will you find a better than at +my house. To-morrow we shall be at +home; have patience until then."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page299" id="page299" title="page299"></a>With a gesture of gratitude Ammalát +Bek placed his hand upon his heart +and forehead: he perfectly felt the +truth of the Khan's words, but exhaustion +for many hours had been +overwhelming him. Avoiding the villages, +they passed the night among the +rocks, eating a handful of millet boiled +in honey, without the mountaineers +seldom set out on a journey. +Crossing the Koi-Soú by the bridge +near the Asheért, quitting its northern +branch, and leaving behind them +Andéh, and the country of the Boulinétzes +of the Koi-Soú, and the naked +chain of Salataóu. A rude path lay +before them, winding among forests +and cliffs terrible to body and soul; +and they began to climb the last chain +which separated them on the north +from Khounzákh or Avár, the capital of +the Khans. The forest, and then the +underwood, had gradually disappeared +from the naked flint of the mountain, +on which cloud and tempest could +hardly wander. To reach the summit, +our travellers were compelled to ride +alternately to the right and to the left, +so precipitous was the ascent of the +rocks. The experienced steed of the +Khan stepped cautiously and surely +from stone to stone, feeling his way +with his hoofs, and when they slipped, +gliding on his haunches down the declivities: +while the ardent fiery horse +of Ammalát, trained in the hills of +Daghestán, fretted, curveted, and +slipped. Deprived of his customary +grooming, he could not support a two +days' flight under the intense cold +and burning sunshine of the mountains, +travelling among sharp rocks, and +nourished only by the scanty herbage +of the crevices. He snorted heavily +as he climbed higher and higher; the +sweat streamed from his poitrel; his +large nostrils were dry and parched, +and foam boiled from his bit. "Allah +berekét!" exclaimed Ammalát, as +he reached the crest from which there +opened before him a view of Avár: +but at the very moment his exhausted +horse fell under him; the blood spouted +from his open mouth, and his last +breath burst the saddle-girth.</p> + +<p>The Khan assisted the Bek to extricate +himself from the stirrups; but +observed with alarm that his efforts +had displaced the bandage on Ammalát's +wounded arm, and that the blood +was soaking through it afresh. The +young man, it seemed, was insensible +to pain; tears were rolling down his +face upon the dead horse. So one +drop fills not, but overflows the cup. +"Thou wilt never more bear me like +down upon the wind," he said, "nor +hear behind thee from the dust-cloud +of the race, the shouts, unpleasing to +the rival, the acclamations of the +people: in the blaze of battle no more +shalt thou carry me from the iron rain +of the Russian cannon. With thee I +gained the fame of a warrior—why +should I survive, or it, or thee?" He +bent his face upon his knee, and remained +silent a long time, while the +Khan carefully bound up his wounded +arm: at length Ammalát raised his +head: "Leave me!" he cried, resolutely: +"leave, Sultan Akhmet Khan, +a wretch to his fate! The way is long, +and I am exhausted. By remaining +with me, you will perish in vain. See! +the eagle soars around us; he knows +that my heart will soon quiver beneath +his talons, and I thank God! Better +find an airy grave in the maw of a bird +of prey, than leave my corse beneath +a Christian foot. Farewell, linger +not."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Ammalát! you trip +against a straw....! What +the great harm? You are wounded, +and your horse is dead. Your wound +will soon healed, and we will find +you a better horse! Allah sendeth not +misfortunes alone. In the flower of +your age, and the full vigour of your +faculties, it is a sin to despair. Mount +my horse, I will lead him by the bridle, +and by night we shall be at home. +Time is precious!"</p> + +<p>"For me, time is no more, Sultan +Ahkmet Khan ... I thank you +heartily for your brotherly care, but I +cannot take advantage of it ... you +yourself cannot support a march on +foot after such fatigue. I repeat ... +leave me to my fate. Here, on these +inaccessible heights, I will die free and +contented ... And what is there to +recall me to life! My parents lie under +the earth, my wife is blind, my uncle +and father-in-law the Shamkhál are +cowering at Tarki before the Russians +... the Giaour is revelling in my +native land, in my inheritance; and I +myself an a wanderer from my home, +a runaway from battle. I neither can, +nor ought to live."</p> + +<p>"You ought <i>not</i> to talk such nonsense, +dear Ammalát:—and nothing +but fever can excuse you. We are +<a class="pagenum" name="page300" id="page300" title="page300"></a>created that we may live longer than +our fathers. For wives, if one has +not teazed you enough, we will find +you three more. If you love not the +Shamkhál, yet love your own inheritance—you +ought to live, if but for +that; since to a dead man power is +useless, and victory impossible. Revenge +on the Russians is a holy duty: +live, if but for that. That we are +beaten, is no novelty for a warrior; +to-day luck is theirs, to-morrow it falls +to us. Allah gives fortune; but a man +creates his own glory, not by fortune, +but by firmness. Take courage, my +friend Ammalát.... You are +wounded and weak; I am strong from +habit, and not fatigued by flight. +Mount! and we may yet live to beat +the Russians."</p> + +<p>The colour returned to Ammalát's +face ... "Yes, I will live for revenge!" +he cried: "for revenge both +secret and open. Believe me, Sultan +Akhmet Khan, it is only for this that I +accept your generosity! Henceforth +I am yours; I swear by the graves of +my fathers.... I am yours! Guide +my steps, direct the strokes of my arm; +and if ever, drowned in softness, I forget +my oath, remind me of this moment, +of this mountain peak: Ammalát +Bek will awake, and his dagger will +be lightning!"</p> + +<p>The Khan embraced him, as he lifted +the excited youth into the saddle. +"Now I behold in you the pure blood +of the Emírs!" said he: "the burning +blood of their children, which flows in +our veins like the sulphur in the entrails +of the rocks, which, ever and +anon inflaming, shakes and topples +down the crags." Steadying with one +hand the wounded man in the saddle, +the Khan began cautiously to descend +the rugged croft. Occasionally the +stones fell rattling from under their +feet, or the horse slid downward over +the smooth granite, so that they were +well pleased to reach the mossy slopes. +By degrees, creeping plants began to +appear, spreading their green sheets; +and, waving from the crevices like fans, +they hung down in long ringlets like +ribbons or flags. At length they reached +a thick wood of nut-trees; then +came the oak, the wild cherry, and, +lower still, the tchinár,<a name="footnotetag41" id="footnotetag41"></a><a href="#footnote41"><sup>41</sup></a> and the tchindár. +The variety, the wealth of vegetation, +and the majestic silence of the +umbrageous forest, produced a kind of involuntary +adoration of the wild strength +of nature. Ever and anon, from the +midnight darkness of the boughs, there +dawned, like the morning, glimpses of +meadows, covered with a fragrant carpet +of flowers untrodden by the foot +of man. The pathway at one time +lost itself in the depth of the thicket; +at another, crept forth upon the edge +of the rock, below which gleamed and +murmured a rivulet, now foaming over +the stones, then again slumbering on +its rocky bed, under the shade of the +barberry and the eglantine. Pheasants, +sparkling with their rainbow tails, +flitted from shrub to shrub; flights of +wild pigeons flew over the crags, sometimes +in an horizontal troop, sometimes +like a column, rising to the sky; and +sunset flooded all with its airy purple, +and light mists began to rise from the +narrow gorges: every thing breathed +the freshness of evening. Our travellers +were now near the village of Aki, +and separated only by a hill from +Khounzákh. A low crest alone divided +them from that village, when +the report of a gun resounded from +the mountain, and, like an ominous +signal, was repeated by the echoes +of the cliffs. The travellers halted +irresolute: the echoes by degrees sank +into stillness. "Our hunters!" cried +Sultan Akhmet Khan, wiping the +sweat from his face: "they expect +me not, and think not to meet me +here! Many tears of joy, and many of +sorrow, do I bear to Khounzákh!" +Unfeigned sorrow was expressed in +the face of Akhmet Khan. Vividly +does every soft and every savage sentiment +play on the features of the Asiatic.</p> + +<p>Another report soon interrupted his +meditation; then another, and another. +Shot answered shot, and at length +thickened into a warm fire. "'Tis +the Russians!" cried Ammalát, drawing +his sabre. He pressed his horse +with the stirrup, as though he would +have leaped over the ridge at a single +bound; but in a moment his strength +failed him, and the blade fell ringing +on the ground, as his arm dropped +heavily by his side. "Khan!" said +he, dismounting, "go to the succour +of your people; your face will be +<a class="pagenum" name="page301" id="page301" title="page301"></a>worth more to them than a hundred +warriors."</p> + +<p>The Khan heard him not; he was +listening intently for the flight of the +balls, as if he would distinguish those +of the Russian from the Avárian. +"Have they, besides the agility of the +goat, stolen the wings of the eagle +of Kazbéc? Can they have reached +our inaccessible fastnesses?" said he, +leaning to the saddle, with his foot already +in the stirrup. "Farewell, Ammalát!" +he cried at length, listening to +the firing, which now grew hotter: "I +go to perish on the ruins I have made, +after striking like a thunderbolt!" At +this moment a bullet whistled by, and +fell at his feet. Bending down and +picking it up, his face was lighted with +a smile. He quietly took his foot from +the stirrup, and turning to Ammalát, +"Mount!" said he, "you shall presently +find with your own eyes an answer +to this riddle. The Russian bullets +are of lead; but this is copper<a name="footnotetag42" id="footnotetag42"></a><a href="#footnote42"><sup>42</sup></a>—an +Aváretz, my dear countryman. Besides, +it comes from the south, where +the Russians cannot be."</p> + +<p>They ascended to the summit of the +crest, and before their view opened two +villages, situated on the opposite sides +of a deep ravine; from behind them +came the firing. The inhabitants +sheltering themselves behind rocks and +hedges, were firing at each other. Between +them the women were incessantly +running, sobbing and weeping +when any combatant, approaching the +edge of the ravine, fell wounded. They +carried stones, and, regardless of the +whistling of the balls, fearlessly piled +them up, so as to make a kind of defence. +Cries of joy arose from one side or the +other, as a wounded adversary was +carried from the field; a groan of sorrow +ascended in the air when one of +their kinsmen or comrades was hit. +Ammalát gazed at the combat for some +time with surprise, a combat in which +there was a great deal more noise than +execution. At length he turned an +enquiring eye upon the Khan.</p> + +<p>"With us these are everyday affairs!" +he answered, delightedly marking +each report. "Such skirmishes +cherish among us a warlike spirit and +warlike habits. With you, private +quarrels end in a few blows of the dagger; +among us they become the common +business of whole villages, and any +trifle is enough to occasion them. Probably +they are fighting about some cow +that has been stolen. With us it is no +disgrace to steal in another village—the +shame is, to be found out. Admire the +coolness of our women; the balls are +whizzing about like gnats, yet they pay +no attention to them! Worthy wives +and mothers of brave men! To be +sure, there would be eternal disgrace +to him who could wound a woman, +yet no man can answer for a ball. A +sharp eye may aim it; but blind chance +carries it to the mark. But darkness +is falling from heaven, and dividing +these enemies for a moment. Let us +hasten to my kinsmen."</p> + +<p>Nothing but the experience of the +Khan could have saved our travellers +from frequent falls in the precipitous +descent to the river Ouzén. Ammalát +could see scarcely any thing before +him; the double veil of night and +weakness enveloped his eyes; his head +turned: he beheld, as it were in a +dream, when they again mounted an +eminence, the gate and watch-tower of +the Khan's house. With an uncertain +foot he dismounted in a courtyard, +surrounded by shouting noúkers +and attendants; and he had hardly stepped +over the grated threshold when his +breath failed him—a deadly paleness +poured its snow over the wounded +man's face; and the young Bek, exhausted +by loss of blood, fatigued by +travel, hunger, and anguish of soul, +fell senseless on the embroidered carpets.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<a name="bw329s2" id="bw329s2"></a> +<a class="pagenum" name="page302" id="page302" title="page302"></a> +<h2>POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.</h2> + +<h3>No. VI.</h3> + +<h3>THE LAY OF THE BELL.</h3> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"Vivos voco—Mortuous plango—Fulgura frango."</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Fast, in its prison-walls of earth,</p> +<p class="i2">Awaits the mould of bakèd clay.</p> +<p class="i1">Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth—</p> +<p class="i2">THE BELL that shall be born to-day!</p> +<p class="i4">And wearily now,</p> +<p class="i4">With the sweat of the brow,</p> +<p>Shall the work win its grace in the master's eye,</p> +<p>But the blessing that hallows must come from high.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">And well an earnest word beseems</p> +<p class="i2">The work the earnest hand prepares;</p> +<p class="i1">Its load more light the labour deems,</p> +<p class="i2">When sweet discourse the labour shares.</p> +<p class="i1">So let us ponder—nor in vain—</p> +<p class="i2">What strength has wrought when labour wills;</p> +<p class="i1">For who would not the fool disdain</p> +<p class="i2">Who ne'er can feel what he fulfills?</p> +<p class="i1">And well it stamps our Human Race,</p> +<p class="i2">And hence the gift TO UNDERSTAND,</p> +<p class="i1">When in the musing heart we trace</p> +<p class="i2">Whate'er we fashion with the hand.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">From the fir the fagot take,</p> +<p class="i2">Keep it, heap it hard and dry,</p> +<p class="i1">That the gather'd flame may break</p> +<p class="i2">Through the furnace, wroth and high.</p> +<p class="i4">Smolt the copper within—</p> +<p class="i4">Quick—the brass with the tin,</p> +<p>That the glutinous fluid that feeds the Bell</p> +<p>May flow in the right course glib and well.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">What now these mines so deeply shroud,</p> +<p class="i2">What Force with Fire is moulding thus,</p> +<p class="i1">Shall from yon steeple, oft and loud,</p> +<p class="i2">Speak, witnessing of us!</p> +<p class="i1">It shall, in later days unfailing,</p> +<p class="i2">Rouse many an ear to rapt emotion;</p> +<p class="i1">Its solemn voice with Sorrow wailing,</p> +<p class="i2">Or choral chiming to Devotion.</p> +<p class="i1">Whatever sound in man's deep breast</p> +<p class="i2">Fate wakens, through his winding track,</p> +<p class="i1">Shall strike that metal-crownèd crest,</p> +<p class="i2">Which rings the moral answer back.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 45%;"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">See the silvery bubbles spring!</p> +<p class="i2">Good! the mass is melting now!</p> +<p class="i1">Let the salts we duly bring</p> +<p class="i2">Purge the flood, and speed the flow.</p> +<p class="i4">From the dross and the scum,</p> +<p class="i4">Pure, the fusion must come;</p> +<p>For perfect and pure we the metal must keep,</p> +<p>That its voice may be perfect, and pure, and deep.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page303" id="page303" title="page303"></a> +<p class="i1">That voice, with merry music rife,</p> +<p class="i2">The cherish'd child shall welcome in;</p> +<p class="i1">What time the rosy dreams of life,</p> +<p class="i2">In the first slumber's arms begin.</p> +<p class="i1">As yet in Time's dark womb unwarning,</p> +<p class="i2">Repose the days, or foul or fair;</p> +<p class="i1">And watchful o'er that golden morning,</p> +<p class="i2">The Mother-Love's untiring care!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">And swift the years like arrows fly—</p> +<p class="i1">No more with girls content to play,</p> +<p class="i1">Bounds the proud Boy upon his way,</p> +<p class="i1">Storms through loud life's tumultuous pleasures,</p> +<p class="i1">With pilgrim staff the wide world measures;</p> +<p class="i1">And, wearied with the wish to roam,</p> +<p class="i1">Again seeks, stranger-like, the Father-Home.</p> +<p class="i1">And, lo, as some sweet vision breaks</p> +<p class="i2">Out from its native morning skies,</p> +<p class="i1">With rosy shame on downcast cheeks,</p> +<p class="i2">The Virgin stands before his eyes.</p> +<p class="i1">A nameless longing seizes him!</p> +<p class="i2">From all his wild companions flown;</p> +<p class="i1">Tears, strange till then, his eyes bedim;</p> +<p class="i2">He wanders all alone.</p> +<p class="i1">Blushing, he glides where'er she move;</p> +<p class="i2">Her greeting can transport him;</p> +<p class="i1">To every mead to deck his love,</p> +<p class="i2">The happy wild flowers court him!</p> +<p class="i1">Sweet Hope—and tender Longing—ye</p> +<p class="i2">The growth of Life's first Age of Gold;</p> +<p class="i1">When the heart, swelling, seems to see</p> +<p class="i2">The gates of heaven unfold!</p> +<p>O Love, the beautiful and brief! O prime,</p> +<p>Glory, and verdure, of life's summer time!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 45%;"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Browning o'er the pipes are simmering,</p> +<p class="i2">Dip this fairy rod within;</p> +<p class="i1">If like glass the surface glimmering,</p> +<p class="i2">Then the casting may begin.</p> +<p class="i4">Brisk, brisk to the rest—</p> +<p class="i4">Quick!—the fusion to test;</p> +<p>And welcome, my merry men, welcome the sign,</p> +<p>If the ductile and brittle united combine.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For still where the strong is betrothed to the weak,</p> +<p>And the stern in sweet marriage is blent with the meek,</p> +<p class="i1">Rings the concord harmonious, both tender and strong:</p> +<p>So be it with thee, if for ever united,</p> +<p>The heart to the heart flows in one, love-delighted;</p> +<p class="i1">Illusion is brief, but Repentance is long.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Lovely, thither are they bringing,</p> +<p class="i2">With her virgin wreath, the Bride!</p> +<p class="i1">To the love-feast clearly ringing,</p> +<p class="i2">Tolls the church-bell far and wide!</p> +<p class="i1">With that sweetest holyday,</p> +<p class="i2">Must the May of Life depart;</p> +<p class="i1">With the cestus loosed—away</p> +<p class="i2">Flies ILLUSION from the heart!</p> +<p class="i3">Yet Love lingers lonely,</p> +<p class="i4">When Passion is mute,</p> +<p class="i3">And the blossoms may only</p> +<p class="i4">Give way to the fruit.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page304" id="page304" title="page304"></a> +<p class="i2">The Husband must enter</p> +<p class="i3">The hostile life,</p> +<p class="i3">With struggle and strife,</p> +<p class="i3">To plant or to watch,</p> +<p class="i3">To snare or to snatch,</p> +<p class="i3">To pray and importune,</p> +<p class="i2">Must wager and venture</p> +<p class="i3">And hunt down his fortune!</p> +<p>Then flows in a current the gear and the gain,</p> +<p>And the garners are fill'd with the gold of the grain,</p> +<p>Now a yard to the court, now a wing to the centre!</p> +<p class="i2">Within sits Another,</p> +<p class="i3">The thrifty Housewife;</p> +<p class="i2">The mild one, the mother—</p> +<p class="i3">Her home is her life.</p> +<p class="i2">In its circle she rules,</p> +<p class="i2">And the daughters she schools,</p> +<p class="i3">And she cautions the boys,</p> +<p class="i2">With a bustling command,</p> +<p class="i2">And a diligent hand</p> +<p class="i3">Employ'd she employs;</p> +<p class="i2">Gives order to store,</p> +<p class="i2">And the much makes the more;</p> +<p>Locks the chest and the wardrobe, with lavender smelling,</p> +<p>And the hum of the spindle goes quick through the dwelling;</p> +<p>And she hoards in the presses, well polish'd and full,</p> +<p>The snow of the linen, the shine of the wool;</p> +<p>Blends the sweet with the good, and from care and endeavour</p> +<p>Rests never!</p> +<p class="i1">Blithe the Master (where the while</p> +<p class="i1">From his roof he sees them smile)</p> +<p class="i2">Eyes the lands, and counts the gain;</p> +<p class="i1">There, the beams projecting far,</p> +<p class="i1">And the laden store-house are,</p> +<p class="i1">And the granaries bow'd beneath</p> +<p class="i2">The blessings of the golden grain;</p> +<p class="i1">There, in undulating motion,</p> +<p class="i1">Wave the corn-fields like an ocean.</p> +<p class="i1">Proud the boast the proud lips breathe:—</p> +<p class="i1">"My house is built upon a rock,</p> +<p class="i1">And sees unmoved the stormy shock</p> +<p class="i2">Of waves that fret below!"</p> +<p class="i1">What chain so strong, what girth so great,</p> +<p class="i1">To bind the giant form of Fate?—</p> +<p class="i2">Swift are the steps of Woe.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 45%;"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Now the casting may begin;</p> +<p class="i3">See the breach indented there:</p> +<p class="i2">Ere we run the fusion in,</p> +<p class="i3">Halt—and speed the pious prayer!</p> +<p class="i4">Pull the bung out—</p> +<p class="i4">See around and about</p> +<p class="i1">What vapour, what vapour—God help us!—has risen?—</p> +<p class="i1">Ha! the flame like a torrent leaps forth from its prison!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">What, friend, is like the might of fire</p> +<p class="i2">When man can watch and wield the ire?</p> +<p class="i2">Whate'er we shape or work, we owe</p> +<p class="i2">Still to that heaven-descended glow.</p> +<p class="i2">But dread the heaven-descended glow,</p> +<p class="i2">When from their chain its wild wings go,</p> +<a class="pagenum" name="page305" id="page305" title="page305"></a> +<p class="i2">When, where it listeth, wide and wild</p> +<p class="i2">Sweeps the free Nature's free-born Child!</p> +<p class="i2">When the Frantic One fleets,</p> +<p class="i3">While no force can withstand,</p> +<p class="i2">Through the populous streets</p> +<p class="i3">Whirling ghastly the brand;</p> +<p class="i2">For the Element hates</p> +<p class="i2">What Man's labour creates,</p> +<p class="i3">And the work of his hand!</p> +<p class="i2">Impartially out from the cloud,</p> +<p class="i3">Or the curse or the blessing may fall!</p> +<p class="i2">Benignantly out from the cloud</p> +<p class="i3">Come the dews, the revivers of all!</p> +<p class="i2">Avengingly our from the cloud</p> +<p class="i3">Come the levin, the bolt, and the ball!</p> +<p class="i2">Hark—a wail from the steeple!—aloud</p> +<p class="i2">The bell shrills its voice to the crowd!</p> +<p class="i3">Look—look—red as blood</p> +<p class="i4">All on high!</p> +<p class="i3">It is not the daylight that fills with its flood</p> +<p class="i4">The sky!</p> +<p class="i3">What a clamour awaking</p> +<p class="i3">Roars up through the street,</p> +<p class="i3">What a hell-vapour breaking</p> +<p class="i4">Rolls on through the street,</p> +<p class="i3">And higher and higher</p> +<p class="i3">Aloft moves the Column of Fire!</p> +<p class="i3">Through the vistas and rows</p> +<p class="i3">Like a whirlwind it goes,</p> +<p class="i3">And the air like the steam from a furnace glows.</p> +<p class="i2">Beams are crackling—posts are shrinking—</p> +<p class="i2">Walls are sinking—windows clinking—</p> +<p class="i4">Children crying—</p> +<p class="i4">Mothers flying—</p> +<p class="i1">And the beast (the black ruin yet smouldering under)</p> +<p class="i1">Yells the howl of its pain and its ghastly wonder!</p> +<p class="i1">Hurry and skurry—away—away,</p> +<p class="i1">And the face of the night is as clear as day!</p> +<p class="i3">As the links in a chain,</p> +<p class="i3">Again and again</p> +<p class="i2">Flies the bucket from hand to hand;</p> +<p class="i3">High in arches up rushing</p> +<p class="i3">The engines are gushing,</p> +<p class="i1">And the flood, as a beast on the prey that it hounds,</p> +<p class="i1">With a road on the breast of the element bounds.</p> +<p class="i3">To the grain and the fruits,</p> +<p class="i3">Through the rafters and beams,</p> +<p class="i1">Through the barns and the garners it crackles and streams!</p> +<p class="i1">As if they would rend up the earth from its roots,</p> +<p class="i3">Rush the flames to the sky</p> +<p class="i3">Giant-high;</p> +<p class="i1">And at length,</p> +<p class="i1">Wearied out and despairing, man bows to their strength!</p> +<p class="i1">With an idle gaze sees their wrath consume,</p> +<p class="i1">And submits to his doom!</p> +<p class="i3">Desolate</p> +<p class="i2">The place, and dread</p> +<p class="i2">For storms the barren bed.</p> +<p class="i2">In the deserted gaps that casements were,</p> +<p class="i2">Looks forth despair;</p> +<p class="i2">And, where the roof hath been,</p> +<p class="i2">Peer the pale clouds within!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page306" id="page306" title="page306"></a> +<p class="i3">One look</p> +<p class="i4">Upon the grave</p> +<p class="i4">Of all that Fortune gave</p> +<p class="i3">The loiterer took—</p> +<p>Then grasps his staff. Whate'er the fire bereft,</p> +<p>One blessing, sweeter than all else, is left—</p> +<p><i>The faces that he loves</i>! He counts them o'er—</p> +<p>And, see—not one dear look is missing from <i>that</i> store!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 45%;"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Now clasp'd the bell within the clay—</p> +<p class="i2">The mould the mingled metals fill—</p> +<p class="i1">Oh, may it, sparkling into day,</p> +<p class="i2">Reward the labour and the skill!</p> +<p class="i3">Alas! should it fail,</p> +<p class="i3">For the mould may be frail—</p> +<p>And still with our hope must be mingled the fear—</p> +<p>And, even now, while we speak, the mishap may be near!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">To the dark womb of sacred earth</p> +<p class="i2">This labour of our hands is given,</p> +<p class="i1">As seeds that wait the second birth,</p> +<p class="i2">And turn to blessings watch'd by heaven!</p> +<p class="i1">Ah seeds, how dearer far than they</p> +<p class="i2">We bury in the dismal tomb,</p> +<p class="i1">Where Hope and Sorrow bend to pray</p> +<p class="i1">That suns beyond the realm of day</p> +<p class="i2">May warm them into bloom!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">From the steeple</p> +<p class="i4">Tolls the bell,</p> +<p class="i3">Deep and heavy,</p> +<p class="i4">The death-knell!</p> +<p class="i1">Measured and solemn, guiding up the road</p> +<p class="i1">A wearied wanderer to the last abode.</p> +<p class="i2">It is that worship'd wife—</p> +<p class="i2">It is that faithful mother!<a name="footnotetag43" id="footnotetag43"></a><a href="#footnote43"><sup>43</sup></a></p> +<p>Whom the dark Prince of Shadows leads benighted,</p> +<p>From that dear arm where oft she hung delighted.</p> +<p>Far from those blithe companions, born</p> +<p>Of her, and blooming in their morn;</p> +<p>On whom, when couch'd, her heart above</p> +<p>So often look'd the Mother-Love!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Ah! rent the sweet Home's union-band,</p> +<p class="i2">And never, never more to come—</p> +<p class="i1">She dwells within the shadowy land,</p> +<p class="i2">Who was the Mother of that Home!</p> +<p class="i1">How oft they miss that tender guide,</p> +<p class="i2">The care—the watch—the face—the MOTHER—</p> +<p class="i1">And where she sate the babes beside,</p> +<p class="i2">Sits with unloving looks—ANOTHER!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 45%;"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">While the mass is cooling now,</p> +<p class="i2">Let the labour yield to leisure,</p> +<p class="i1">As the bird upon the bough,</p> +<p class="i2">Loose the travail to the pleasure.</p> +<p class="i3">When the soft stars awaken,</p> +<p class="i3">Each task be forsaken!</p> +<a class="pagenum" name="page307" id="page307" title="page307"></a> +<p>And the vesper-bell lulling the earth into peace,</p> +<p>If the master still toil, chimes the workman's release!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Gleesome and gay,</p> +<p class="i1">On the welcoming way,</p> +<p class="i1">Through the wood glides the wanderer home!</p> +<p class="i1">And the eye and ear are meeting,</p> +<p class="i1">Now, the slow sheep homeward bleating—</p> +<p class="i1">Now, the wonted shelter near,</p> +<p class="i1">Lowing the lusty-fronted steer;</p> +<p class="i1">Creaking now the heavy wain,</p> +<p class="i1">Reels with the happy harvest grain.</p> +<p class="i1">Which with many-coloured leaves,</p> +<p class="i1">Glitters the garland on the sheaves;</p> +<p class="i1">And the mower and the maid</p> +<p class="i1">Bound to the dance beneath the shade!</p> +<p class="i1">Desert street, and quiet mart;—</p> +<p class="i1">Silence is in the city's heart;</p> +<p class="i1">Round the taper burning cheerly,</p> +<p class="i1">Gather the groups HOME loves so dearly;</p> +<p class="i1">And the gate the town before</p> +<p class="i1">Heavily swings with sullen roar!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Though darkness is spreading</p> +<p class="i2">O'er earth—the Upright</p> +<p class="i1">And the Honest, undreading,</p> +<p class="i2">Look safe on the night.</p> +<p class="i1">Which the evil man watching in awe,</p> +<p class="i1">For the Eye of the Night is the Law!</p> +<p class="i2">Bliss-dower'd: O daughter of the skies,</p> +<p>Hail, holy ORDER, whose employ</p> +<p>Blends like to like in light and joy—</p> +<p>Builder of Cities, who of old</p> +<p>Call'd the wild man from waste and wold.</p> +<p>And in his hut thy presence stealing,</p> +<p>Roused each familiar household feeling;</p> +<p class="i1">And, best of all the happy ties,</p> +<p>The centre of the social band,—</p> +<p><i>The Instinct of the Fatherland!</i></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">United thus—each helping each,</p> +<p class="i2">Brisk work the countless hands for ever;</p> +<p class="i1">For nought its power to strength can teach,</p> +<p class="i2">Like Emulation and Endeavour!</p> +<p class="i1">Thus link'd the master with the man,</p> +<p class="i2">Each in his rights can each revere,</p> +<p class="i1">And while they march in freedom's van,</p> +<p class="i2">Scorn the lewd rout that dogs the rear!</p> +<p class="i1">To freemen labour is renown!</p> +<p class="i2">Who works—gives blessings and commands;</p> +<p class="i1">Kings glory in the orb and crown—</p> +<p class="i2">Be ours the glory of our hands.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Long in these walls—long may we greet</p> +<p>Your footfalls, Peace and concord sweet!</p> +<p>Distant the day, Oh! distant far,</p> +<p>When the rude hordes of trampling War</p> +<p class="i1">Shall scare the silent vale;</p> +<p class="i1">And where,</p> +<p class="i1">Now the sweet heaven when day doth leave</p> +<p class="i1">The air;</p> +<p class="i1">Limns its soft rose-hues on the veil of Eve;</p> +<a class="pagenum" name="page308" id="page308" title="page308"></a> +<p class="i1">Shall the fierce war-brand tossing in the gale,</p> +<p class="i1">From town and hamlet shake the horrent glare!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 45%;"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Now, its destined task fulfill'd,</p> +<p class="i2">Asunder break the prison-mould;</p> +<p class="i1">Let the goodly Bell we build,</p> +<p class="i2">Eye and heart alike behold.</p> +<p class="i3">The hammer down heave,</p> +<p class="i3">Till the cover it cleave.</p> +<p>For the Bell to rise up to the freedom of day,</p> +<p>Destruction must seize on the shape of the clay.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">To break the mould, the master may,</p> +<p class="i2">If skilled the hand and ripe the hour;</p> +<p class="i1">But woe, when on its fiery way</p> +<p class="i2">The metal seeks itself to pour.</p> +<p class="i1">Frantic and blind, with thunder-knell,</p> +<p class="i2">Exploding from its shattered home,</p> +<p class="i1">And glaring forth, as from a hell,</p> +<p class="i2">Behold the red Destruction come!</p> +<p class="i1">When rages strength that has no reason,</p> +<p class="i1"><i>There</i> breaks the mould before the season;</p> +<p class="i1">When numbers burst what bound before,</p> +<p class="i1">Woe to the State that thrives no more!</p> +<p class="i1">Yea, woe, when in the City's heart,</p> +<p class="i2">The latent spark to flame is blown;</p> +<p class="i1">And Millions from their silence start,</p> +<p class="i2">To claim, without a guide, their own!</p> +<p class="i1">Discordant howls the warning Bell,</p> +<p class="i2">Proclaiming discord wide and far,</p> +<p class="i1">And, born but things of peace to tell,</p> +<p class="i2">Becomes the ghastliest voice of war:</p> +<p class="i1">"Freedom! Equality!"—to blood,</p> +<p class="i2">Rush the roused people at the sound!</p> +<p class="i1">Through street, hall, palace, roars the flood,</p> +<p class="i2">And banded murder closes round!</p> +<p class="i1">The hyæna-shapes, that women were!</p> +<p class="i2">Jest with the horrors they survey;</p> +<p class="i1">They hound—they rend—they mangle there—</p> +<p class="i2">As panthers with their prey!</p> +<p class="i1">Nought rests to hallow—burst the ties</p> +<p class="i2">Of life's sublime and reverent awe;</p> +<p class="i1">Before the Vice the Virtue flies,</p> +<p class="i2">And Universal Crime is Law!</p> +<p class="i1">Man fears the lion's kingly tread;</p> +<p class="i2">Man fears the tiger's fangs of terror;</p> +<p class="i1">And still the dreadliest of the dread,</p> +<p class="i2">Is Man himself in error!</p> +<p class="i1">No torch, though lit from Heaven, illumes</p> +<p class="i2">The Blind!—Why place it in his hand?</p> +<p class="i1">It lights not him—it but consumes</p> +<p class="i2">The City and the Land!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 45%;"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Rejoice and laud the prospering skies!</p> +<p class="i2">The kernel bursts its husk—behold</p> +<p class="i1">From the dull clay the metal rise,</p> +<p class="i2">Clear shining, as a star of gold!</p> +<p class="i3">Neck and lip, but as one beam,</p> +<p class="i3">It laughs like a sun-beam.</p> +<p>And even the scutcheon, clear graven, shall tell</p> +<p>That the art of a master has fashion'd the Bell!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page309" id="page309" title="page309"></a> +<p class="i1">Come in—come in</p> +<p class="i1">My merry men—we'll form a ring</p> +<p class="i1">The new-born labour christening;</p> +<p class="i2">And "CONCORD" we will name her!—</p> +<p class="i1">To union may her heart-felt call</p> +<p class="i2">In brother-love attune us all!</p> +<p class="i1">May she the destined glory win</p> +<p class="i2">For which the master sought to frame her—</p> +<p class="i1">Aloft—(all earth's existence under,)</p> +<p class="i2">In blue-pavilion'd heaven afar</p> +<p class="i1">To dwell—the Neighbour of the Thunder,</p> +<p class="i2">The Borderer of the Star!</p> +<p class="i1">Be hers above a voice to raise</p> +<p class="i2">Like those bright hosts in yonder sphere,</p> +<p class="i1">Who, while they move, their Maker praise,</p> +<p class="i2">And lead around the wreathèd year!</p> +<p class="i1">To solemn and eternal things</p> +<p class="i2">We dedicate her lips sublime!—</p> +<p class="i1">To fan—as hourly on she swings</p> +<p class="i2">The silent plumes of Time!—</p> +<p class="i1">No pulse—no heart—no feeling hers!</p> +<p class="i2">She lends the warning voice to Fate;</p> +<p class="i1">And still companions, while she stirs,</p> +<p class="i2">The changes of the Human State!</p> +<p class="i1">So may she teach us, as her tone</p> +<p class="i2">But now so mighty, melts away—</p> +<p class="i1">That earth no life which earth has known</p> +<p class="i2">From the Last Silence can delay!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Slowly now the cords upheave her!</p> +<p class="i2">From her earth-grave soars the Bell;</p> +<p class="i1">Mid the airs of Heaven we leave her</p> +<p class="i2">In the Music-Realm to dwell!</p> +<p class="i3">Up—upwards—yet raise—</p> +<p class="i3">She has risen—she sways.</p> +<p class="i1">Fair Bell to our city bode joy and increase,</p> +<p class="i1">And oh, may thy first sound be hallow'd to—PEACE!<a name="footnotetag44" id="footnotetag44"></a><a href="#footnote44"><sup>44</sup></a></p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>VOTIVE TABLETS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>What the God taught me—what, through life, my friend</p> +<p class="i1">And aid hath been,</p> +<p>With pious hand, and grateful, I suspend</p> +<p class="i1">The temple walls within.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THE GOOD AND THE BEAUTIFUL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Foster the Good, and thou shalt tend the Flower</p> +<p class="i1">Already sown on earth;—</p> +<p>Foster the Beautiful, and every hour</p> +<p class="i1">Thou call'st new flowers to birth!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3><a class="pagenum" name="page310" id="page310" title="page310"></a>TO ——.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Give me that which thou know'st—I'll receive and attend;—</p> +<p>But thou giv'st me <i>thyself</i>—pri'thee spare me, my friend.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>GENIUS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>That which hath been can INTELLECT declare,</p> +<p class="i1">What Nature built—it imitates or gilds—</p> +<p>And REASON builds o'er Nature—but in air—</p> +<p class="i1"><i>Genius</i> alone in Nature—Nature builds.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>CORRECTNESS—(Free translation.)</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>The calm correctness where no fault we see</p> +<p>Attests Art's loftiest—or its least degree;</p> +<p>Alike the smoothness of the surface shows</p> +<p>The Pool's dull stagnor—the great Sea's repose!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THE IMITATOR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Good out of good—<i>that</i> art is known to all—</p> +<p>But Genius from the bad the good can call—</p> +<p>Thou, mimic, not from leading strings escaped,</p> +<p>Work'st but the matter that's already shaped!</p> +<p>The already shaped a nobler hand awaits—</p> +<p>All matter asks a spirit that creates.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THE MASTER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>The herd of Scribes by what they tell us</p> +<p>Show all in which their wits excel us;</p> +<p>But the true Master we behold</p> +<p>In what his art leaves—just untold!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>TO THE MYSTIC.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>That is the real mystery which around</p> +<p class="i1">All life, is found;—</p> +<p>Which still before all eyes for aye has been,</p> +<p class="i1">Nor eye hath seen!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3><a class="pagenum" name="page311" id="page311" title="page311"></a>ASTRONOMICAL WORKS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>All measureless, all infinite in awe,</p> +<p class="i1">Heaven to great souls is given—</p> +<p>And yet the sprite of littleness can draw</p> +<p class="i1">Down to its inch—the Heaven!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THE DIVISION OF RANKS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Yes, there's a patent of nobility</p> +<p class="i1">Above the meanness of our common state;</p> +<p>With what they <i>do</i> the vulgar natures buy</p> +<p class="i1">Its titles—and with what they <i>are</i>, the great!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THEOPHANY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>When draw the Prosperous near me, I forget</p> +<p class="i1">The gods of heaven; but where</p> +<p>Sorrow and suffering in my sight are set,</p> +<p class="i1">The gods, I feel, are there!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THE CHIEF END OF MAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>What the chief end of Man?—Behold yon tree,</p> +<p class="i1">And let it teach thee, Friend!</p> +<p><i>Will</i> what that will-less yearns for;—and for thee</p> +<p class="i1">Is compass'd Man's chief end!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>ULYSSES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>To gain his home all oceans he explored—</p> +<p>Here Scylla frown'd—and there Charybdis roar'd;</p> +<p>Horror on sea—and horror on the land—</p> +<p>In hell's dark boat he sought the spectre land,</p> +<p>Till borne—a slumberer—to his native spot</p> +<p>He woke—and sorrowing, knew his country not!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>JOVE TO HERCULES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>'Twas not my nectar made thy strength divine,</p> +<p>But 'twas thy strength which made my nectar thine!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3><a class="pagenum" name="page312" id="page312" title="page312"></a>THE SOWER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>See, full of hope, thou trustest to the earth</p> +<p class="i1">The golden seed, and waitest till the spring</p> +<p>Summons the buried to a happier birth;</p> +<p class="i1">But in Time's furrow duly scattering,</p> +<p>Think'st thou, how deeds by wisdom sown may be,</p> +<p class="i1">Silently ripen'd for Eternity?</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THE MERCHANT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Where sails the ship?—It leads the Tyrian forth</p> +<p>For the rich amber of the liberal North.</p> +<p>Be kind ye seas—winds lend your gentlest wing,</p> +<p>May in each creek, sweet wells restoring spring!—</p> +<p>To you, ye gods, belong the Merchant!—o'er</p> +<p>The waves, his sails the wide world's goods explore;</p> +<p>And, all the while, wherever waft the gales,</p> +<p>The wide world's good sails with him as he sails!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>COLUMBUS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Steer on, bold Sailor—Wit may mock thy soul that sees the land,</p> +<p>And hopeless at the helm may drop the weak and weary hand,</p> +<p>YET EVER—EVER TO THE WEST, for there the coast must lie,</p> +<p>And dim it dawns and glimmering dawns before thy reason's eye;</p> +<p>Yea, trust the guiding God—and go along the floating grave,</p> +<p>Though hid till now—yet now, behold the New World o'er the wave!</p> +<p>With Genius Nature ever stands in solemn union still,</p> +<p>And ever what the One foretels the Other shall fulfil.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THE ANTIQUE TO THE NORTHERN WANDERER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>And o'er the river hast thou past, and o'er the mighty sea,</p> +<p>And o'er the Alps, the dizzy bridge hath borne thy steps to me;</p> +<p>To look all near upon the bloom my deathless beauty knows,</p> +<p>And, face to face, to front the pomp whose fame through ages goes—</p> +<p>Gaze on, and touch my relics now! At last thou standest here,</p> +<p>But art thou nearer now to me—or I to thee more near?</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THE ANTIQUE AT PARIS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>What the Grecian arts created,</p> +<p>May the victor Gaul, elated,</p> +<p class="i1">Bear with banners to his strand.<a name="footnotetag45" id="footnotetag45"></a><a href="#footnote45"><sup>45</sup></a></p> +<p>In museums many a row,</p> +<p>May the conquering showman show</p> +<p class="i1">To his startled Fatherland!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page313" id="page313" title="page313"></a>Mute to him, they crowd the halls,</p> +<p>Ever on their pedestals</p> +<p class="i1">Lifeless stand they!—He alone</p> +<p>Who alone, the Muses seeing,</p> +<p>Clasps—can warm them into being;</p> +<p class="i1">The Muses to the Vandal—stone!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<h3>THE POETRY OF LIFE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Who would himself with shadows entertain,</p> +<p>Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain,</p> +<p>Or nurse false hopes that do but cheat the true?</p> +<p>Though with my dream my heaven should be resign'd—</p> +<p>Though the free-pinion'd soul that now can dwell</p> +<p>In the large empire of the Possible,</p> +<p>This work-day life with iron chains may bind,</p> +<p>Yet thus the mastery o'er ourselves we find,</p> +<p>And solemn duty to our acts decreed,</p> +<p>Meets us thus tutor'd in the hour of need,</p> +<p>With a more sober and submissive mind!</p> +<p>How front Necessity—yet bid thy youth</p> +<p>Shun the mild rule of life's calm sovereign, Truth."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So speak'st thou, friend, how stronger far than I;</p> +<p>As from Experience—that sure port serene—</p> +<p>Thou look'st; and straight, a coldness wraps the sky,</p> +<p>The summer glory withers from the scene,</p> +<p>Scared by the solemn spell; behold them fly,</p> +<p>The godlike images that seem'd so fair!</p> +<p>Silent the playful Muse—the rosy Hours</p> +<p>Halt in their dance; and the May-breathing flowers</p> +<p>Pall from the sister-Graces' waving hair.</p> +<p>Sweet-mouth'd Apollo breaks his golden lyre,</p> +<p>Hermes, the wand with many a marvel rife;—</p> +<p>The veil, rose-woven by the young Desire</p> +<p>With dreams, drops from the hueless cheeks of Life.</p> +<p>The world seems what it <i>is</i>—A Grave! and Love</p> +<p>Casts down the bondage wound his eyes above,</p> +<p>And <i>sees</i>!—He sees but images of clay</p> +<p>Where he dream'd gods; and sighs—and glides away.</p> +<p>The youngness of the Beautiful grows old,</p> +<p>And on thy lips the bride's sweet kiss seems cold;</p> +<p>And in the crowd of joys—upon thy throne</p> +<p>Thou sitt'st in state, and harden'st into stone.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<a name="bw329s3" id="bw329s3"></a> +<a class="pagenum" name="page314" id="page314" title="page314"></a> +<h2>CALEB STUKELY.</h2> + +<h3>PART XII.</h3> + +<h3>THE PARSONAGE.</h3> + +<p>It was not without misgiving that +I knocked modestly at the door of +Mr Jehu Tomkins. For himself, +there was no solidity in his moral +composition, nothing to grapple or +rely upon. He was a small weak +man of no character at all, and but +for his powerful wife and active partner, +would have become the smallest +of unknown quantities in the respectable +parish that contained him. Upon +his own weak shoulders he could not +have sustained the burden of an establishment, +and must inevitably have +dwindled into the lightest of light +porters, or the most aged of errand-boys. +Nothing could have saved him +from the operation of a law, as powerful +and certain as that of gravitation, +in virtue of which the soft and +empty-headed of this world walk to +the wall, and resign, without a murmur, +their places to their betters. As +for the deaconess, I have said already +that the fact of her being a lady, and +the possessor of a heart, constituted the +only ground of hope that I could have +in reference to her. This I felt to be +insecure enough when I held the +knocker in my hand, and remembered +all at once the many little tales that I +had heard, every one of which went +far to prove that ladies may be ladies +without the generous weakness of +their sex,—and carry hearts about +with them as easily as they carry bags.</p> + +<p>My first application was unsuccessful. +The deacon was not at home. +"Mr Tomkins and his lady had gone +<i>to hear</i> the Reverend Doctor Whitefroth,"—a +northern and eccentric +light, now blazing for a time in the +metropolis. It is a curious fact, and +worthy to be recorded, that Mr Tomkins, +and Mr Buster, and every non-conformist +whom I had hitherto encountered, +never professed to visit the +house of prayer with any other object +than that of <i>hearing</i>. It was never by +any accident to worship or to pray. +What, in truth was the vast but lowly +looking building, into which hundreds +crowded with the dapper deacon +at their head, sabbath after sabbath—what +but a temple sacred to +vanity and excitement, eloquence and +perspiration! Which one individual, +taken at random from the concourse, +was not ready to declare that his business +there that day was "to hear the +dear good man," and nothing else? If +you could lay bare—as, thank Heaven, +you cannot—your fellow-creature's +heart, whither would you behold stealing +away the adoration that, in such +a place, in such a time, is due to one +alone—whither, if not to Mr Clayton? +But let this pass.</p> + +<p>I paid a second visit to my friend, +and gained admittance. It was about +half-past eight o'clock in the evening, +and the shop had been closed some +twenty minutes before. I was ushered +into a well-furnished room behind +the shop, where sat the firm—Mrs +Jehu and the junior partner. The +latter looked into his lady's face, perceived +a smile upon it, and then—but +not till then, he offered me his hand, +and welcomed me with much apparent +warmth. This ceremony over, Mr +Tomkins grew fidgety and uneasy, +and betrayed a great anxiety to get +up a conversation which he had not +heart enough to set a going. Mrs +Tomkins, a woman of the world, +evinced no anxiety at all, sat smiling, +and in peace. I perceived immediately +that I must state at once the +object of my visit, and I proceeded to +the task.</p> + +<p>"Mrs Tomkins," I commenced.</p> + +<p>"Sir?" said that lady, and then a +postman's knock brought us to a stop, +and Jehu skipped across the room to +listen at the door.</p> + +<p>"That's him, my dear Jemima," exclaimed +the linen-draper, "I know his +knock," and then he skipped as quickly +to his chair again.</p> + +<p>The door of the apartment was +opened by a servant girl, who entered +the room alone and approached her +mistress with a card. Mrs Tomkins +looked at it through her eye-glass, +said "she was most happy," and the +servant then retired. The card was +placed upon the table near me, and, +as I believe, for my inspection. I +took it up, and read the following +<a class="pagenum" name="page315" id="page315" title="page315"></a>words, "<i>Mr Stanislaus Levisohn</i>." +They were engraven in the centre of +the paper, and were surrounded by a +circle of rays, which in its turn was +enveloped in a circle of clouds. In +the very corner of the card, and in +very small characters, the words "<i>general +merchant</i>" were written.</p> + +<p>There was a noise of shoe-cleaning +outside the door for about five minutes, +then the door was opened again by +the domestic, and a remarkable gentleman +walked very slowly in. He +was a tall individual, with small cunning +eyes, black eye-brows, and a +beard. He was rather shabbily attired, +and not washed with care. He +had thick boorish hands, and he smelt +unpleasantly of tobacco smoke; an +affected grin at variance with every +feature, was planted on his face, and +sickened an unprejudiced observer at +the very first gaze. His mode of uttering +English betrayed him for a foreigner. +He was a native of Poland. +Before uttering a syllable, the interesting +stranger walked to a corner of +the room, turned himself to the wall, +and muttered a few undistinguishable +words. He then bowed lowly to the +company, and took a chair, grinning +all the while.</p> + +<p>"Is that a Polish move?" asked +Mr Tomkins.</p> + +<p>"It vos de coshtom mit de anshent +tribes, my tear sare, vor alles tings, to +recommend de family to de protection +of de hevins. Vy not now mit all +goot Christians?"</p> + +<p>"Why not indeed?" added Mrs +Tomkins. "May I offer you a glass of +raisin wine?"</p> + +<p>"Tank you. For de shtomack's +sake—yase."</p> + +<p>A glass was poured out. It was +but decent to offer me another. I paid +my compliments to the hostess and +the gentlemen, and was about to drink +it off, when the enlightened foreigner +called upon me in a loud voice to desist.</p> + +<p>"Shtay, mein young friend—ve are +not de heathen and de cannibal. It +is our privilege to live in de Christian +society mit de Christian lady. Ve +most ask blessing—alvays—never forget—you +excuse—vait tree minutes."</p> + +<p>It was not for me to protest against +so pious a movement, albeit it presented +itself somewhat inopportunely and +out of place. Mr Levisohn covered +his face with one hand, and murmured +a few words. The last only reached +me. It was "Amen," and this was +rather heaved up in a sigh, than articulately +expressed.</p> + +<p>"Do you like the wine?" asked +Jehu, as if he thought it superfine.</p> + +<p>"Yase, I like moch—especially de +sherry and de port."</p> + +<p>Jehu smiled, but made no reply.</p> + +<p>Mrs Tomkins supposed that port +and sherry were favourite beverages +in Poland, but, for her part, she had +found that nothing agreed so well with +British stomachs as the native wines.</p> + +<p>"Ah! my lady," said the Pole, "ve +can give up very moch so long ve got +British religions."</p> + +<p>"Very true, indeed," answered Mrs +Tomkins. "Pray, Mr Levisohn, +what may be your opinion of the lost +sheep? Do you think they will come +into the fold during our time?"</p> + +<p>Before the gentleman replies, it may +be proper to state on his behalf, that +he had never given his questioner any +reason to suppose that he was better +informed on such mysterious subjects +than herself. The history of his introduction +into the family of the linen-draper +is very short. He had been +for some years connected with Mr +Tomkins in the way of business, +having supplied that gentleman with +all the genuine foreign, but certainly +English, perfumery, that was retailed +with considerable profit in his over-nice +and pious establishment. Mrs +Tomkins, no less zealous in the cause +of the church than that of her own +shop, at length, and all on a sudden, +resolved to set about his conversion, +and to present him to the chapel as a +brand plucked with her own hand from +the burning. As a preliminary step, +he was invited to supper, and treated +with peculiar respect. The matter +was gently touched upon, but discussion +postponed until another occasion. +Mr Levisohn being very shrewd, very +needy, and enjoying no particular +principles of morality and religion, +perceived immediately the object of +his hostess, met her more than half-way +in her Christian purposes, and +accepted her numerous invitations to +tea and supper with the most affectionate +readiness. Within two months +he was received into the bosom of the +church, and became as celebrated for +the depth and intensity of his belief +as for the earnestness and promptitude +with which he attended the meetings +<a class="pagenum" name="page316" id="page316" title="page316"></a>of the brethren, particularly those in +which eating and drinking did not +constitute the least important part of +the proceedings. Being a foreigner, +he was listened to with the deepest +attention, very often indeed to his +serious annoyance, for his ignorance +was awful, and his assurance, great as +it was, not always sufficient to get him +clear of his difficulties. His foreign +accent, however, worked wonders for +him, and whenever too hard pressed, +afforded him a secure and happy retreat. +An unmeaning grin, and "<i>me +not pronounce</i>," had saved him from +precipices, down which an Englishman, +<i>cæteris paribus</i>, must unquestionably +have been dashed.</p> + +<p>"Vill dey come?" said Mr Levisohn, +in answer to the question. "Yase, +certainly, if dey like, I tink."</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, I fear you are a latitudinarian," +said the lady.</p> + +<p>"I hope Hevin, my dear lady, vill +forgive me for dat, and all my wickedness. +I am a shinner, I shtink!"</p> + +<p>I looked at the converted gentleman, +at the same moment that Mrs Jehu +assured him that it would be a great +thing if they were all as satisfied of +their condition as he might be. "Your +strong convictions of your worthlessness +is alone a proof," she added, "of +your accepted state."</p> + +<p>"My lady," continued the humble +Stanislaus, "I am rotten, I am a tief, +a blackguard, a swindler, a pickpocket, +a housebreak, a sticker mit de knife. +I vish somebody would call me names +all de day long, because I forget sometime +dat I am de nashty vurm of de +creation. I tink I hire a boy to call +me names, and make me not forget. +Oh, my lady, I alvays remember those +fine words you sing—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>'If I could read my title clear</p> +<p class="i1">To manshions in de shkies,</p> +<p>I say farevell to every fear,</p> +<p class="i1">And vipe my veeping eyes.'"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>"That is so conscientious of you. +Pray, my dear sir, is there an Establishment +in Poland? or have you Independent +churches?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear lady, we have noting +at all!"</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?"</p> + +<p>"Yase, it is possible—it is true."</p> + +<p>"Who could have thought it! +What! nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Noting at all, my lady. Do not +ask me again, I pray you. It is +frightful to a goot Christian to talk +dese tings."</p> + +<p>"What is your opinion of the Arminian +doctrine, Mr Stanislaus?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean de doctrine?" enquired +Stanislaus, slowly, as though +he found some difficulty in answering +the question.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear sir."</p> + +<p>"I tink," said the gentleman, after +some delay, "it vould he very goot if +were not for someting."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" cried Mrs Jehu, "that +is so exactly my opinion!"</p> + +<p>"Den dere is noting more to be +said about dat," continued Stanislaus, +interrupting her; "and I hope you +vill not ask dese deep questions, my +dear lady, vich are not at all proper to +be answered, and vich put me into de +low spirits. Shall ve sing a hymn?"</p> + +<p>"By all means," exclaimed the hostess, +who immediately made preparations +for the ceremony. Hymn-books +were introduced, and the servant-maid +ordered up, and then a quartet was +performed by Mr Levisohn, Mrs Tomkins, +her husband, and Betsy. The +subject of the song was the courtship of +Isaac. Two verses only have remained +in my memory, and the manner +in which they were given out by +the fervent Stanislaus will never be +forgotten. They ran thus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ven Abraham's servant to procure</p> +<p class="i1">A vife for Isaac vent,</p> +<p>He met Rebekah, tould his vish,</p> +<p class="i1">Her parents gave conshent.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>'Shtay,' Satan, my old master, cries,</p> +<p class="i1">'Or force shall thee detain.'</p> +<p>'Hinder me not, I vill be gone,</p> +<p class="i1">I vish to break my chain.'"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>This being concluded, Mr Tomkins +asked Mr Levisohn what he had to +say in the business line, to which Mr +Levisohn replied, "Someting very +goot, but should he not vait until after +soppare?" whereupon Mr Tomkins +gave his lady a significant leer, and +the latter retired, evidently to prepare +the much desired repast. Then did +little Jehu turn confidentially to Stanislaus, +and ask him when he meant to +deliver that ere <i>conac</i> that he had +promised him so long ago.</p> + +<p>"Ven Providence, my tear dikkon, +paremits—I expect a case of goots at +de cushtom-house every day; but my +friend vot examins de marchandis, +and vot saves me de duties ven I +<a class="pagenum" name="page317" id="page317" title="page317"></a>makes it all right mit him, is vary ill, +I am sorry for to say, and ve most +vait, mit Christian patience, my dear +sare, till he get well. You see +dat?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; that's clear enough. Well, +Stanny, I only hope that fellow won't +die. I don't think you'd find it so easy +to make it <i>all right</i> with any other +chap; that's all!"</p> + +<p>"I hope he vill not die. Ve mosht +pray dat he live, my dear dikkon. I +tink it vill be vell if der goot Mr Clayton +pray mit der church for him. You +shall speak for him."</p> + +<p>"Well, what have you done about +the <i>Eau de Cologne</i>?" continued Jehu +Tomkins. "Have you nailed the fellow?"</p> + +<p>"It vos specially about dis matter +dat I vish to see you, my dear sare. I +persvade der man to sell ten cases. +He be very nearly vot you call in der +mess. He valk into de Gazette next +week. He shtarve now. I pity him. +De ten cases cost him ten pounds. I +give fifty shilling—two pound ten. +He buy meat for de childs, and is +tankful. I take ten shillings for my +trouble. Der Christian satisfied mit +vary little."</p> + +<p>"Any good bills in the market, +Stanny?"</p> + +<p>Stanislaus Levisohn winked.</p> + +<p>"Ho—you don't say so," said the +deacon. "Have you got 'em with you?"</p> + +<p>"After soppare, my dear sare," +answered Stanislaus, who looked at +me, and winked again significantly at +Jehu.</p> + +<p>Mrs Tomkins returned, accompanied +by the vocal Betsy. The cloth +was spread, and real silver forks, and +fine cut tumblers, and blue plates with +scripture patterns, speedily appeared. +Then came a dish of fried sausages and +parsley—then baked potatoes—then +lamb chops. Then we all sat round +the table, and then, against all order +and propriety, Mrs Jehu grossly and +publicly insulted her husband at his +own board, by calling upon the enlightened +foreigner to ask a blessing +upon the meal.</p> + +<p>The company sat down; but scarcely +were we seated before Stanislaus +resumed.</p> + +<p>"I tank you, my tear goot Mrs +Tomkins for dat shop mit der brown, +ven it comes to my turn to be sarved. +It look just der ting."</p> + +<p>Mrs Jehu served her guest immediately.</p> + +<p>"I vill take a sossage, tear lady, +also, if you please."</p> + +<p>"And a baked potato?"</p> + +<p>"And a baked potato? Yase."</p> + +<p>He was served.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Christian +lady, have you got, perhaps, der littel +pickel-chesnut and der crimson cabbage?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Tomkins, go down-stairs and +get the pickles," said the mistress of +the house, and Tomkins vanished like +a mouse on tiptoe.</p> + +<p>Before he could return, Stanislaus +had eaten more than half his chop, +and discovered that, after all, "it was +<i>not</i> just the ting." Mrs Jehu entreated +him to try another. He declined +at first; but at length suffered +himself to be persuaded. Four chops +had graced the dish originally; the +remaining two were divided equally +between the lady and myself. I begged +that my share might be left for +the worthy host, but receiving a recommendation +from his wife "not to +mind <i>him</i>," I said no more, but kept +Mr Stanislaus Levisohn in countenance.</p> + +<p>"I hope you'll find it to your liking, +Mr Stukely," said our hostess.</p> + +<p>"Mishter vat?" exclaimed the +foreigner, looking quickly up. "I +tink I"——</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, my dear sir?" +enquired the lady of the house.</p> + +<p>"Noting, my tear friend, I tought +der young gentleman vos a poor unconverted +sinner dat I met a long time +ago. Dat is all. Ve talk of someting +else."</p> + +<p>Has the reader forgotten the dark-visaged +individual, who at the examination +of my lamented father before +the Commissioners of Bankruptcy +made his appearance in company +with Mr Levy and the ready Ikey? +Him I mean of the vivid imagination, +who swore to facts which were no +facts at all, and whom an unpoetic +jury sentenced to vile imprisonment +for wilful perjury? <i>There he sat</i>, +transformed into a Pole, bearded and +whiskered, and the hair of his head +close clipped, but in every other regard +the same as when the constable +invited him to forsake a too prosaic +and ungrateful world: and had Mr +Levisohn been wise and guarded, the +discovery would never have been +made by me; for we had met but +once before, then only for a short half +hour, and under agitating circumstances. +<a class="pagenum" name="page318" id="page318" title="page318"></a>But my curiosity and attention +once roused by his exclamation, it +was impossible to mistake my man. +I fixed my eye upon him, and the +harder he pulled at his chop, and the +more he attempted to evade my gaze, +the more satisfied was I that a villain +and an impostor was seated amongst us. +Thinking, absurdly enough, to do my +host and hostess a lasting service, I +determined without delay to unmask +the pretended saint, and to secure his +victims from the designs he purposed.</p> + +<p>"Mr Levisohn," I said immediately, +"you have told the truth—we +have met before."</p> + +<p>"Nevare, my tear friend, you mistake; +nevare in my life, upon my vurd."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Tomkins," I continued, rising, +"I should not be worthy of your +hospitality if I did not at once make +known to you the character of that +man. He is a convicted criminal. I +have myself known him to be guilty +of the grossest practices." Mr Levisohn +dropped his chop, turned his +greasy face up, and then looked round +the room, and endeavoured to appear +unconcerned, innocent, and amazed +all at once. At this moment Jehu entered +the room with the pickles, and +the face of the deaconess grew fearfully +stern.</p> + +<p>"Were you ever in the Court of Bankruptcy, +Mr Levisohn?" I continued.</p> + +<p>"I have never been out of London, +my good sare. You labour under +de mistake.—I excuse you. Ah!" +he cried our suddenly, as if a new idea +had struck him very hard; "I see +now vot it is. I explain. You take +me for somebody else."</p> + +<p>"I do not, sir. I accuse you publicly +of having committed perjury of the +most shameless kind, and I can prove +you guilty of the charge. Do you +know a person of the name of Levy?"</p> + +<p>Mr Stanislaus looked to the ceiling +after the manner of individuals who +desire, or who do not desire, as the +case may be, to call a subject to remembrance. +"No," he answered, +after a long pause; "certainly not. +I never hear dat name."</p> + +<p>"Beware of him, Mrs Tomkins," +I continued, "he is an impostor, a +disgrace to mankind, and to the faith +which he professes."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, you +impertinent young man?" said Mrs +Tomkins, her blood rising to her +face, herself rising from her chair. +"I should have thought that a man +who had been so recently expelled +from his church would have had more +decency. A pretty person you must +be, to bring a charge of this kind +against so good a creature as that."</p> + +<p>"No, do not say dat," interposted +Stanny; "I am not goot. I am a +brute beast."</p> + +<p>"Mr Tomkins," continued the +lady, "I don't know what object that +person has in disturbing the peace of +our family, or why he comes here at +all to-night. He is a mischief-making, +hardened young man, or he would +never have come to what he has. +Well, I'm sure—What will Satan put +into his head next!"</p> + +<p>"I vould vish you be not angry. +Der young gentleman is, I dare say, +vary goot at heart. He is labouring +under de deloosions."</p> + +<p>"Mr Levisohn, pardon me, I am +not. Proofs exist, and I can bring +them to convict you."</p> + +<p>"Do you hear that, Mr Tomkins. +Were you ever insulted so before? Are +you master in your own house?"</p> + +<p>"What shall I do?" said Jehu, +trembling with excitement at the door.</p> + +<p>"Do! What! Give him his hat, +turn him out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear goot Christian friends," +said Mr Levisohn, imploringly; "de +booels of der Christian growls ven +he shees dese sights; vot is de goot +of to fight? It is shtoopid. Let me +be der peacemaker. Der yong man +has been drink, perhaps. I forgive +him from te bottom of my heart. If +ve quarrel ve fight. If ve fight ve +lose every ting.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>'So Samson, ven his hair vos lost,</p> +<p>Met the Philistines to his cost,</p> +<p>Shook his vain limbs in shad shurprise,</p> +<p>Made feeble fight, and lost his eyes.'"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>"Mr Tomkins," I exclaimed, "I +court inquiry, I can obtain proofs."</p> + +<p>"We want none of your proofs, +you backslider," cried the deaconess.</p> + +<p>"Madam, you"——</p> + +<p>"Get out of the house, ambassador +of Satan! Mr Tomkins, will you tell +him instantly to go?"</p> + +<p>"Go!" squealed Tomkins from the +door, not advancing an inch.</p> + +<p>I seized my hat, and left the table.</p> + +<p>"You will be sorry for this, sir," +said I; "and you, madam"——</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me, you bad man. +If you don't go this minute I'll spring +the rattle and have up the watchmen."</p> + +<p>I did not attempt to say another +<a class="pagenum" name="page319" id="page319" title="page319"></a>word. I left the room, and hurried +from the house. I had hardly shut +the street door before it was violently +opened again, and the head of Mr +Levisohn made itself apparent.</p> + +<p>"Go home," exclaimed that gentleman, +"and pray to be shaved, you +shtoopid ass."</p> + +<p>It was not many days after the +enacting of this scene, that I entered +upon my duties as the instructor of +the infant children of my friend. It +was useless to renew my application +to the deacon, and I abandoned the +idea. The youngest of my pupils was +the lisping Billy. It was my honour +to introduce him at the very porch of +knowledge—to place him on the first +step of learning's ladder—to make familiar +to him the simple letters of his +native tongue, in whose mysterious +combinations the mighty souls of men +appear and speak. The lesson of the +alphabet was the first that I gave, +and a heavy sadness depressed and +humbled me when, as the child repeated +wonderingly after me, letter +by letter, I could not but feel deeply +and acutely the miserable blighting +of my youthful promises. How long +was it ago—it seemed but yesterday, +when the sun used to shine brightly +into my own dear bed-room, and +awake me with its first gush of light, +telling my ready fancy that he came +to rouse me from inaction, and to encourage +me to my labours. Oh, happy +labours! Beloved books! What joy +I had amongst you! The house was +silent—the city's streets tranquil as +the breath of morning. I heard nothing +but the glorious deeds ye spoke +of, and saw only the worthies that +were but dust, when centuries now +passed were yet unborn, but whose +immortal spirits are vouchsafed still +to elevate man, and cheer him onward. +How intense and sweet was +our communion; and as I read and +read on, how gratefully repose crept +over me; how difficult it seemed to +think unkindly of the world, or to believe +in all the tales of human selfishness +and cruelty with which the old +will ever mock the ear and dull the +heart of the confiding and the young. +How willing I felt to love, and how +gay a place was earth, with her constant +sun, and overflowing lap, and +her thousand joys, for man! And how +intense was the fire of <i>hope</i> that burned +within me—fed with new fuel every +passing hour, and how abiding and +how beautiful <i>the future</i>! THE FUTURE! +and it was here—a nothing—a +dream—a melancholy phantasm!</p> + +<p>There are seasons of adversity, in +which the mind, plunged in despondency +and gloom, is startled and distressed +by pictures of a happier time, +that travel far to fool and tantalize +the suffering heart. I sat with the +child, and gazing full upon him, beheld +him not, but—a vision of my +father's house. There sits the good +old man, and at his side—ah, how seldom +were they apart!—my mother. +And there, too, is the clergyman, my +first instructor. Every well-remembered +piece of furniture is there. The +chair, sacred to my sire, and venerated +by me for its age, and for our long +intimacy. I have known it since +first I knew myself. The antique +bookcase—the solid chest of drawers—the +solemn sofa, all substantial as +ever, and looking, as at first, the immoveable +and natural properties of +the domestic parlour. My mother +has her eyes upon me, and they are +full of tears. My father and the minister +are building up my fortunes, +are fixing in the sandy basis of futurity +an edifice formed of glittering +words, incorporeal as the breath that +rears it. And the feelings of that hour +come back upon me. I glow with +animation, confidence, and love. I +have the strong delight that beats +within the bosom of the boy who has +the parents' trusty smile for ever on +him. I dream of pouring happiness +into those fond hearts—of growing up +to be their prop and staff in their decline. +I pierce into the future, and +behold myself the esteemed and honoured +amongst men—the patient, +well-rewarded scholar—the cherished +and the cherisher of the dear authors +of my life—all brightness—all glory—all +unsullied joy. The child touches +my wet cheek, and asks me why I +weep?—why?—why? He knows not +of the early wreck that has annihilated +the unhappy teacher's peace.</p> + +<p>We were still engaged upon our +lesson, when John Thompson interrupted +the proceeding, by entering +the apartment in great haste, and +placing in my hands a newspaper. +"He had been searching," he said, +"for one whole fortnight, to find a +<a class="pagenum" name="page320" id="page320" title="page320"></a>situation that would suit me, and now +he thought that he had hit upon it. +There it was, 'a tutorer in a human +family,' to teach the languages and +the sciences. Apply from two to four. +It's just three now. Send the youngster +to his mother, and see after it, +my friend. I wouldn't have you lose +it for the world." I took the journal +from his hands, and, as though placed +there by the hand of the avenger to +arouse deeper remorse, to draw still +hotter blood from the lacerated heart, +the following announcement, and nothing +else, glared on the paper, and +took possession of my sight.</p> + +<p>"UNIVERSITY INTELLIGENCE. After +a contest more severe than any known +for years, MR JOHN SMITHSON, <i>of +Trinity College, Cambridge</i>, has been +declared THE SENIOR WRANGLER of +his year. Mr Smithson is, we understand, +the son of a humble curate +in Norfolk, whose principal support +has been derived from the exertions +of his son during his residence in the +University. The honour could not +have been conferred on a more +deserving child of Alma Mater."</p> + +<p>A hundred recollections crowded +on my brain. My heart was torn with +anguish. The perseverance and the +filial piety of Smithson, so opposite +to my unsteadiness and unnatural disloyalty, +confounded and unmanned +me. I burst into tears before the faithful +Thompson, and covered my face +for very shame.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, lad?" exclaimed +the good fellow, pale with +surprise, his eye trembling with honest +feeling. "Have I hurt you? Drat +the paper! Don't think, Stukely, I +wished to get rid of you. Don't think +so hard of your old friend. I thought +to help and do you service; I know +you have the feelings of a gentleman +about you, and I wouldn't wound 'em, +God knows, for any thing. There, +think no more about it. I am so rough +a hand, I'm not fit to live with Christians. +I mean no harm, believe me. +Get rid of you, my boy! I only wish +you'd say this is your home, and +never leave me—that would make me +happy."</p> + +<p>"Thompson," I answered, through +my tears, "I am not deserving of +your friendship. You have not offended +me. You have never wronged +me. You are all kindness and truth. +I have had no real enemy but myself. +Read that paper."</p> + +<p>I pointed to the paragraph, and he +read it.</p> + +<p>"What of it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Thompson," listen to me; "what +do you say of such a son?"</p> + +<p>"I can guess his father's feelings," +said my friend. "Earth's a heaven, +Stukely, when father and child live +together as God appointed them."</p> + +<p>"But when a child breaks a parent's +heart, Thompson—what then?"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk about it, lad. I have +got eleven of 'em, and that's a side of +the picture that I can't look at with +pleasure. I think the boys are good. +They have gone on well as yet; but +who can tell what a few years will +do?"</p> + +<p>"Or a few months, Thompson," I +answered quickly, "or a few days, or +hours, when the will is fickle, principles +unfixed, and the heart treacherous +and false. That Smithson and I, +Thompson, were fellow students. We +left home together—we took up our +abode in the University together—we +were attached to the same college—taught +by the same master—read from +the same books. My feelings were +as warm as his. My resolution to do +well apparently as firm, my knowledge +and attainments as extensive. If he +was encouraged, and protected, and +urged forward by the fond love of a +devoted household—so was I. If parental +blessings hallowed his entrance +upon those pursuits which have ended +so successfully for him—so did they +mine. If he had motive for exertion, +I had not less—we were equal in the +race which we began together—look +at us now!"</p> + +<p>"How did it happen, then?"</p> + +<p>"He was honest and faithful to his +purpose. I was not. He saw one object +far in the distance before him, +and looked neither to the right nor +left, but dug his arduous way towards +it. He craved not the false excitement +of temporary applause, nor +deemed the opinion of weak men essential +to his design. He had a sacred +duty to perform, which left him +not the choice of action, and he performed +it to the letter. He had a feeling +conscience, and a reasoning heart, +and the home of his youth, and the +sister who had grown up with him, +the father who had laboured, the mother +<a class="pagenum" name="page321" id="page321" title="page321"></a>who had striven for him, visited +him by night and by day—in his silent +study, and in his lonely bed, comforting, +animating, and supporting him +by their delightful presence."</p> + +<p>"And what did you do?"</p> + +<p>"Just the reverse of this. I had +neither simplicity of aim, nor stability +of affection. One slip from the path, +and I hadn't energy to take the road +again. One vicious inclination, and +the virtuous resolves of years melted +before it. The sneer of a fool could +frighten me from rectitude—the smile +of a girl render me indifferent to the +pangs that tear a parent's heart. +Look at us both. Look at him—the +man whom I treated with contemptuous +derision. What a return home +for him—his mission accomplished—HIS +DUTY DONE! Look at me, the outcast, +the beggar, the despised—the +author of a mother's death, a father's +bankruptcy and ruin—with no excuse +for misconduct, no promise for the +future, no self-justification, and no +hope of pardon beyond that afforded +to the vilest criminal that comes repentant +to the mercy throne of God!"</p> + +<p>"Well—but, sir—Stukely—don't +take the thing to heart. You are +young—look for'rads. Oh, I tell you, +it's a blessed thing to be sorry for our +faults, and to feel as if we wished to +do better for the time to come. I'm +an older man than you, and I bid you +take comfort, and trust to God for +better things, and better things will +come, too. You are not so badly off +now as you were this time twelvemonth. +And you know I'll never +leave you. Don't despond—don't give +away. It's unnatural for a man to +do it, and he's lost if he does. Oh, +bless you, this is a life of suffering and +sorrow, and well it is; for who wouldn't +go mad to think of leaving all his +young 'uns behind him, and every +thing he loves, if he wasn't taught +that there's a quieter place above, +where all shall meet agin? You know +me, my boy; I can't talk, but I want +to comfort you and cheer you up—and +so, give me your hand, old fellow, and +say you won't think of all this any more, +but try and forget it, and see about +settling comfortably in life. What do +you say to the advertisement? A tutorer +in a human family, to teach the languages +and the sciences. Come now, +that's right; I'm glad to see you +laugh. I suppose I don't give the +right pronunciation to the words. +Well, never mind; laugh at your old +friend. He'd rather see you laugh +at him than teaze your heart about +your troubles."</p> + +<p>Thompson would not be satisfied +until I had read the advertisement, +and given him my opinion of its merits. +He would not suffer me to say another +word about my past misfortunes, but +insisted on my looking forward cheerfully, +and like a man. The situation +appeared to him just the thing for me; +and after all, if I had wrangled as +well as that 'ere Smithson—(though, +at the same time, <i>wrangling</i> seemed a +very aggravating word to put into +young men's mouths at all)—perhaps +I shouldn't have been half as +happy as a quiet comfortable life +would make me. "I was cut out for +a tutorer. He was sure of it. So +he'd thank me to read the paper without +another syllable." The advertisement, +in truth, was promising. "The +advertiser, in London, desired to engage +the services of a young gentleman, +capable of teaching the ancient +languages, and giving his pupils 'an +introduction to the sciences.' The +salary would be liberal, and the occupation +with a humane family in the +country, who would receive the tutor +as one of themselves. References +would be required and given."</p> + +<p>"References would be required and +given," I repeated, after having concluded +the advertisement, and put the +paper down.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's the only thing!" said +Thompson, scratching his honest ear, +like a man perplexed and driven to a +corner. "We haven't got no references +to give. But I'll tell you what we've +got though. We've got the papers +of these freehold premises, and we've +something like two thousand in the +bank. I'll give 'em them, if you +turns out a bad 'un. That I'll undertake +to do, and shan't be frightened +either. Now, you just go, and +see if you can get it. Where do you +apply?"</p> + +<p>"Wait, Thompson. I must not +suffer you"——</p> + +<p>"Did you hear what I said, sir? +where do you apply?"</p> + +<p>"At X.Y.Z." said I, "in Swallow +street, Saint James's."</p> + +<p>"Then, don't you lose a minute. +<a class="pagenum" name="page322" id="page322" title="page322"></a>I shouldn't be surprised if the place is +run down already. London's overstocked +with tutorers and men of larning. +You come along o' me, Billy, +and don't you lose sight of this 'ere +chance, my boy. If they wants a reference, +tell 'em I'll be glad to wait +upon 'em."</p> + +<p>Three days had not elapsed after +this conversation, before my services +were accepted by X.Y.Z.—and I +had engaged to travel into Devonshire +to enter at once upon my duties, as +teacher in the dwelling-house of the +Reverend Walter Fairman. X.Y.Z. +was a man of business; and, fortunately +for me, had known my father well. +He was satisfied with my connexion, +and with the unbounded recommendation +which Thompson gave with me. +Mr Fairman was incumbent of one of +the loveliest parishes in England, and +the guardian and teacher of six boys. +My salary was fifty pounds per annum, +with board and lodging. The +matter was settled in a few hours, +and before I had time to consider, my +place was taken in the coach, and a +letter was dispatched to Mr Fairman, +announcing my intended departure. +Nothing could exceed the joy +of Thompson at my success—nothing +could be kinder and more anxious +than his valuable advice.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said as we walked together +from the coach-office, "was I +wrong in telling you that better things +would turn up? Take care of yourself, +and the best wrangler of the lot may +be glad to change places with you. It +isn't lots of larning, or lots of money, +or lots of houses and coaches, that +makes a man happy in this world. +They never can do it; but they can do +just the contrarery, and make him +the miserablest wretch as crawls. <i>A +contented mind</i> is 'the one thing +needful.' Take what God gives +gratefully, and do unto others as you +would that they should do unto you. +That's a maxim that my poor father +was always giving me, and, I wish, +when I take the young 'uns to church, +that they could always hear it, for human +natur needs it."</p> + +<p>The evening before my setting out +was spent with Thompson's family. I +had received a special invitation, and +Thompson, with the labouring sons, +were under an engagement to the +mistress of the house, to leave the +workshop at least an hour earlier than +usual. Oh, it was a sight to move +the heart of one more hardened than +I can boast to be, to behold the affectionate +party assembled to bid me +farewell, and to do honour to our +leave-taking. A little feast was prepared +for the occasion, and my many +friends were dressed, all in their Sunday +clothes, befittingly. There was +not one who had not something to +give me for a token. Mary had worked +me a purse; and Mary blushed +whilst her mother betrayed her, and +gave the little keepsake. Ellen thought +a pincushion might be useful; and +the knitter of the large establishment +provided me with comforters. +All the little fellows, down +to Billy himself, had a separate gift, +which each must offer with a kiss, +and with a word or two expressive of +his good wishes. All hoped I would +come soon again, and Aleck more than +hinted a request that I would postpone +my departure to some indefinite +period which he could not name. +Poor tremulous heart! how it throbbed +amongst them all, and how sad it +felt to part from them! Love bound +me to the happy room—the only love +that connected the poor outcast with +the wide cold world. This was the +home of my affections—could I leave +it—could I venture once more upon +the boisterous waters of life without +regret and apprehension?</p> + +<p>Thompson kindly offered to accompany +me on the following morning to +the inn from which I was destined to +depart, but I would not hear of it. +He was full of business; had little +time to spare, and none to throw +away upon me. I begged him not to +think of it, and he acquiesced in my +wishes. We were sitting together, +and his wife and children had an hour +or two previously retired to rest.</p> + +<p>"Them's good children, ain't they, +Stukely?" enquired Thompson, after +having made a long pause.</p> + +<p>"You may well be proud of them," +I answered.</p> + +<p>"It looked nice of 'em to make you +a little present of something before +you went. But it was quite right. +That's just as it should be. I like +that sort of thing, especially when a +man understands the sperrit that a +thing's given with. Now, some fellows +would have been offended if any +<a class="pagenum" name="page323" id="page323" title="page323"></a>thing had been offered 'em. How I +do hate all that!"</p> + +<p>"I assure you, Thompson, I feel +deeply their kind treatment of their +friend. I shall never forget it."</p> + +<p>"You ain't offended, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I am so happy to hear +it, you can't think," continued Thompson, +fumbling about his breeches +pocket, and drawing from it at length +something which he concealed in his +fist. "There, take that," he suddenly +exclaimed; "take it, my old fellow, +and God bless you. It's no good +trying to make a fuss about it."</p> + +<p>I held a purse of money in my +hand.</p> + +<p>"No, Thompson," I replied, "I +cannot accept it. Do not think me +proud or ungrateful; but I have no +right to take it."</p> + +<p>"It's only twenty guineas, man, +and I can afford it. Now look, Stukely, +you are going to leave me. If you +don't take it, you'll make me as +wretched as the day is long. You +are my friend, and my friend mustn't +go amongst strangers without an independent +spirit. If you have twenty +guineas in your pocket, you needn't +be worrying yourself about little things. +You'll find plenty of ways to make the +money useful. You shall pay me, if +you like, when you grow rich, and we +meets again; but take it now, and make +John Thompson happy."</p> + +<p>In the lap of nature the troubled +mind gets rest; and the wounds of +the heart heal rapidly, once delivered +there, safe from contact with the infectious +world; and the bosom of the +nursing mother is not more powerful +or quick to lull the pain and still the +sobs of her distressed ones. It is the +sanctuary of the bruised spirit, and to +arrive at it is to secure shelter and to +find repose. Peace, eternal and blessed, +birthright and joy of angels, +whither do those glimpses hover that +we catch of thee in this tumultuous +life, weak, faint, and transient though +they be, melting the human soul with +heavenly tranquillity? Whither, if +not upon the everlasting hills, where +the brown line divides the sky, or on +the gentle sea, where sea and sky are +one—a liquid cupola—or in the leafy +woods and secret vales, where beauty +lends her thrilling voice to silence? +How often will the remembrance only +of one bright spot—a vision of Paradise +rising over the dull waste of my +existence—send a glow of comfort to +my aged heart, and a fresh feeling of +repose which the harsh business of +life cannot extinguish or disturb! +And what a fair history comes with +that shadowy recollection! How much +of passionate condensed existence is +involved in it, and how mysteriously, +yet naturally connected with it, seem +all the noblest feelings of my imperfect +nature! The scene of beauty has +become "a joy for ever."</p> + +<p>I recall a spring day—a sparkling +day of the season of youth and promise—and +a nook of earth, fit for the +wild unshackled sun to skip along and +brighten with his inconstant giddy +light. Hope is everywhere; murmuring +in the brooks, and smiling in +the sky. Upon the bursting trees she +sits; she nestles in the hedges. She +fills the throat of mating birds, and +bears the soaring lark nearer and +nearer to the gate of Heaven. It is +the first holiday of the year, and the +universal heart is glad. Grief and +apprehension cannot dwell in the human +breast on such a day; and, for an +hour, even <i>Self</i> is merged in the general +joy. I reach my destination; +and the regrets for the past, and the +fear for the future, which have accompanied +me through the long and +anxious journey, fall from the oppressed +spirit, and leave it buoyant, +cheerful, free—free to delight itself +in a land of enchantment, and to revel +again in the unsubstantial glories of +a youthful dream. I paint the Future +in the colours that surround me, and +I confide in her again.</p> + +<p>It was noon when we reached the +headquarters of the straggling parish +of Deerhurst—its chief village. We +had travelled since the golden sunrise +over noble earth, and amongst +scenes scarcely less heavenly than the +blue vault which smiled upon them. +Now the horizon was bounded by a +range of lofty hills linked to each +other by gentle undulations, and bearing +to their summits innumerable and +giant trees; these, crowded together, +and swayed by the brisk wind, presented +to the eye the figure of a vast +and supernatural sea, and made the +intervening vale of loveliness a neglected +blank. Then we emerged +suddenly—yes, instantaneously—as +<a class="pagenum" name="page324" id="page324" title="page324"></a>though designing nature, with purpose +to surprize, had hid behind the jutting +crag, beneath the rugged steep—upon +a world of beauty; garden upon garden, +sward upon sward, hamlet upon +hamlet, far as the sight could reach, +and purple shades of all beyond. +Then, flashes of the broad ocean, like +quick transitory bursts of light, started +at intervals, washing the feet of a +tall emerald cliff, or, like a lake, +buried between the hills. Shorter +and shorter become the intermissions, +larger and larger grows the watery +expanse, until, at length, the mighty +element rolls unobstructed on, and +earth, decked in her verdant leaves, +her flowers and gems, is on the shore +to greet her.</p> + +<p>The entrance to the village is by a +swift, precipitous descent. On either +side are piled rude stones, placed there +by a subtle hand, and with a poet's +aim, to touch the fancy, and to soothe +the traveller with thoughts of other +times—of ruined castles, and of old +terrace walks. Already have the +stones fulfilled their purpose, and the +ivy, the brier, and the saxifrage have +found a home amongst them. At the +foot of the declivity, standing like a +watchful mother, is the church—the +small, the unpretending, the venerable +and lovely village church. You do +not see a house till she is passed. Before +a house was built about her, she +was an aged church, and her favoured +graves were rich in heavenly clay. +The churchyard gate; and then at +once, the limited and quiet village, +nestling in a valley and shut out from +the world: beautiful and self-sufficient. +Hill upon hill behind, each greener +than the last—hill upon hill before, +all exclusion, and nothing but her +own surpassing loveliness to console +and cheer her solitude. And is it not +enough? What if she know little of +the sea beyond its voice, and nothing +of external life—her crystal stream, +her myrtle-covered cottages, her garden +plots, her variegated flowers and +massive foliage, her shady dells and +scented lanes are joys enough for her +small commonwealth. Thin curling +smoke that rises like a spirit from +the hidden bosom of one green hillock, +proclaims the single house that +has its seat upon the eminence. It is +the parsonage—my future home.</p> + +<p>With a trembling heart I left the +little inn, and took my silent way to +the incumbent's house. There was +no eye to follow me, the leafy street +was tenantless, and seemed made over +to the restless sun and dissolute winds +to wanton through it as they pleased. +As I ascended, the view enlarged—beauty +became more beauteous, silence +more profound. I reached the +parsonage gate, and my heart yearned +to tell how much I longed to live and +die on this sequestered and most peaceful +spot. The dwelling-house was +primitive and low; its long and overhanging +roof was thatched; its windows +small and many. A myrtle, +luxuriant as a vine, covered its entire +front, and concealed the ancient brick +and wood. A raised bank surrounded +the green nest, and a gentle slope conducted +to a lawn fringed with the earliest +flowers of the year. I rang the +loud bell, and a neatly dressed servant-girl +gave me admittance to the +house. In a room of moderate size, +furnished by a hand as old at least as +the grandsires of the present occupants, +and well supplied with books, +sat the incumbent. He was a man of +fifty years of age or more, tall and +gentlemanly in demeanour. His head +was partly bald, and what remained of +his hair was grey almost to whiteness. +He had a noble forehead, a marked +brow, and a cold grey eye. His +mouth betrayed sorrow, or habitual +deep reflection, and the expression of +every other feature tended to seriousness. +The first impression was unfavourable. +A youth, who was reading +with the minister when I entered +the apartment, was dismissed with a +simple inclination of the head, and the +Rev. Walter Fairman then pointed to +a seat.</p> + +<p>"You have had a tedious journey, +Mr Stukely," began the incumbent, +"and you are fatigued, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"What a glorious spot this is, sir!" +I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is pretty," answered Mr +Fairman, very coldly as I thought. +"Are you hungry, Mr Stukely? We +dine early; but pray take refreshment +if you need it."</p> + +<p>I declined respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Do you bring letters from my +agent?"</p> + +<p>"I have a parcel in my trunk, sir, +which will be here immediately. +What magnificent trees!" I exclaimed +<a class="pagenum" name="page325" id="page325" title="page325"></a>again, my eyes riveted upon a stately +cluster, which were about a hundred +yards distant.</p> + +<p>"Have you been accustomed to +tuition?" asked Mr Fairman, taking +no notice of my remark.</p> + +<p>"I have not, sir, but I am sure +that I shall be delighted with the +occupation. I have always thought +so."</p> + +<p>"We must not be too sanguine. +Nothing requires more delicate handling +than the mind of youth. In no +business is experience, great discernment +and tact, so much needed as in +that of instruction."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I am aware of it."</p> + +<p>"No doubt," answered Mr Fairman +quietly. "How old are you?"</p> + +<p>I told my age, and blushed.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," said the incumbent, +"I have no doubt we shall do. You +are a Cambridge man, Mr Graham +writes me?"</p> + +<p>"I was only a year, sir, at the university. +Circumstances prevented a +longer residence. I believe I mentioned +the fact to Mr Graham."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, he told me so. You +shall see the boys this afternoon. They +are fine-hearted lads, and much may +be done with them. There are six. +Two of them are pretty well advanced. +They read Euripides and +Horace. Is Euripides a favourite of +yours?"</p> + +<p>"He is tender, plaintive, and passionate," +I answered; "but perhaps I +may be pardoned if I venture to prefer +the vigour and majesty of the sterner +tragedian."</p> + +<p>"You mean you like Æschylus +better. Do you write poetry, Mr +Stukely? Not Latin verses, but English +poetry."</p> + +<p>"I do not, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am glad of that. It +struck me that you did. Will you +really take no refreshment? Are you +not fatigued?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least, sir. This lovely +prospect, for one who has seen so little +of nature as I have, is refreshment +enough for the present."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Mr Fairman, sighing +faintly, "you will get accustomed to +it. There is something in the prospect, +but more in your own mind. +Some of our poor fellows would be +easily served and satisfied, if we could +feed them on the prospect. But if +you are not tired you shall see more +of it if you will. I have to go down +to the village. We have an hour +till dinner-time. Will you accompany +me?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure, sir."</p> + +<p>"Very well." Mr Fairman then rang +the bell, and the servant girl came in.</p> + +<p>"Where's Miss Ellen, Mary?" +asked the incumbent.</p> + +<p>"She has been in the village since +breakfast, sir. Mrs Barnes sent word +that she was ill, and Miss took her the +rice and sago that Dr Mayhew ordered."</p> + +<p>"Has Warden been this morning?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Foolish fellow. I'll call on him. +Mary, if Cuthbert the fisherman +comes, give him that bottle of port +wine; but tell him not to touch a drop +of it himself. It is for his sick child, +and it is committing robbery to take +it. Let him have the blanket also +that was looked out for him."</p> + +<p>"It's gone, sir. Miss sent it yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Very well. There is nothing +more. Now, Mr Stukely, we will go."</p> + +<p>I have said already that the first +opinion which I formed of the disposition +of Mr Fairman was not a flattering +one. Before he spoke a word, +I felt disappointed and depressed. +My impression after our short conversation +was worse than the first. +The natural effect of the scene +in which I suddenly found myself, +had been to prepare my ever too +forward spirit for a man of enthusiasm +and poetic temperament. Mr +Fairman was many degrees removed +from warmth. He spoke to me in +a sharp tone of voice, and sometimes, +I suspected, with the intention +of mocking me. His <i>manner</i>, when +he addressed the servant-girl, was not +more pleasing. When I followed him +from the room, I regretted the haste +with which I had accepted my appointment; +but a moment afterwards +I entered into fairyland again, and +the passing shadow left me grateful +to Providence for so much real enjoyment. +We descended the hill, +and for a time, in silence, Mr Fairman +was evidently engaged in deep +thought, and I had no wish to disturb +him. Every now and then we lighted +upon a view of especial beauty, and I +was on the point of expressing my unbounded +<a class="pagenum" name="page326" id="page326" title="page326"></a>admiration, when one look at +my cool and matter-of-fact companion +at once annoyed and stopped me.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr Fairman at length, +still musing. "It is very difficult—very +difficult to manage the poor. I +wonder if they are grateful at heart. +What do you think, Mr Stukely?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to say of the poor, +sir, but praise."</p> + +<p>Mr Fairman looked hard at me, and +smiled unpleasantly.</p> + +<p>"It is the scenery, I suppose. That +will make you praise every thing for +the next day or so. It will not do, +though. We must walk on our feet, +and be prosaic in this world. The +poor are not as poets paint them, nor +is there so much happiness in a hovel +as they would lead you to expect. The +poets are like you—they have nothing +to say but praise. Ah, me! they draw +largely on their imaginations."</p> + +<p>"I do not, sir, in this instance," +I answered, somewhat nettled. "My +most valued friends are in the humblest +ranks of life. I am proud to say +so. I am not prepared to add, that +the most generous of men are the most +needy, although it has been my lot to +meet with sympathy and succour at +the hands of those who were much in +want of both themselves."</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Mr Stukely," answered +the incumbent in a more feeling +tone. "I am not fond of theories; +yet that's a theory with which I would +willingly pass through life; but it will +not answer. It is knocked on the head +every hour of the day. Perhaps it is +our own fault. We do not know how +to reach the hearts, and educate the +feelings of the ignorant and helpless. +Just step in here."</p> + +<p>We were standing before a hut at +the base of the hill. It was a low +dirty-looking place, all roof, with a +neglected garden surrounding it. One +window was in the cob-wall. It had +been fixed there originally, doubtless +with the object of affording light to +the inmates; but light, not being essential +to the comfort or happiness of the +present tenants, was in a great measure +excluded by a number of small +rags which occupied the place of the +diamond panes that had departed +many months before. A child, ill-clad, +in fragments of clothes, with +long and dirty hair, unclean face, and +naked feet, cried at the door, and loud +talking was heard within. Mr Fairman +knocked with his knuckle before he +entered, and a gruff voice desired him to +"come in." A stout fellow, with a +surly countenance and unshaven beard, +was sitting over an apology for a fire, +and a female of the same age and condition +was near him. She bore an +unhappy infant in her arms, whose +melancholy peakish face, not twelve-months +old, looked already conscious +of prevailing misery. There was no +flooring to the room, which contained +no one perfect or complete article of +furniture, but symptoms of many, +from the blanketless bed down to the +solitary coverless saucepan. Need I +add, that the man who sat there, the +degraded father of the house, had his +measure of liquor before him, and +that the means of purchasing it were +never wanting, however impudently +charity might be called upon to supply +the starving family with bread?</p> + +<p>The man did not rise upon our entrance. +He changed colour very +slightly, and looked more ignorantly +surly, or tried to do so.</p> + +<p>"Well, Jacob Warden," said the +incumbent, "you are determined to +brave it out, I see." The fellow did +not answer.</p> + +<p>"When I told you yesterday that +your idleness and bad habits were +bringing you to ruin, you answered—<i>I +was a liar</i>. I then said, that when +you were sorry for having uttered +that expression, you might come to +the parsonage and tell me so. You +have not been yet—I am grieved to +say it. What have I ever done to you, +Jacob Warden, that you should behave +so wickedly? I do not wish you +to humble yourself to me, but I should +have been glad to see you do your +duty. If I did mine, perhaps, I should +give you up, and see you no more, for +I fear you are a hardened man."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't had no work for a +month," said the wife, in a tone of upbraiding, +as if the minister had been +the wilful cause of it.</p> + +<p>"And whose fault is that, Mrs +Warden? There is work enough for +sober and honest men in the parish. +Why was your husband turned away +from the Squire's?"</p> + +<p>"Why, all along of them spoons. +They never could prove it agin him, +that's one thing—though they tried it +hard enough."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page327" id="page327" title="page327"></a>"Come, come, Mrs Warden, if +you love that man, take the right +way to show it. Think of your children."</p> + +<p>"Yes; if I didn't—who would, I +should like to know? The poor are +trodden under foot."</p> + +<p>"Not so, Mrs Warden, the poor +are taken care of, if they are deserving. +God loves the poor, and commands +us all to love them. Give me +your Bible?" The woman hesitated a +minute, and then answered—</p> + +<p>"Never mind the Bible, that won't +get us bread."</p> + +<p>"Give me your Bible, Mrs Warden."</p> + +<p>"We have'nt got it. What's the +use of keeping a Bible in the house for +children as can't read, when they are +crying for summat to eat?"</p> + +<p>"You have sold it, then?"</p> + +<p>"We got a shilling on it—that's all."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever applied to us for +food, and has it been denied you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know. The servant +always looks grumpy at us when we +come a-begging, and seems to begrudge +us every mouthful. It's all very well +to live on other persons' leavings. I +dare say you don't give us what you +could eat yourselves."</p> + +<p>"We give the best we can afford, +Mrs Warden, and, God knows, with +no such feeling as you suppose. How +is the child? Is it better?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, no thanks to Doctor Mayhew +either."</p> + +<p>"Did he not call, then?"</p> + +<p>"Call! Yes, but he made me tramp +to his house for the physic, and when +he passed the cottage the other day, I +called after him; but devil a bit would +he come back. We might have died +first, of course: he knows, he isn't paid, +and what does he care?"</p> + +<p>"It is very wrong of you to talk so. +You are well aware that he was hurrying +to a case of urgency, and could +not be detained. He visited you upon +the following day, and told you so."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, the following day! +What's that to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Woman" exclaimed Mr Fairman, +solemnly, "my heart bleeds for those +poor children. What will become of +them with such an example before +their eyes? I can say no more to +you than I have repeated a hundred +times before. I would make you +happy in this world if I could; I +would save you. You forbid me. I +would be your true friend, and you +look upon me as an enemy. Heaven, +I trust, will melt your heart! What +is that child screaming for?"</p> + +<p>"What! she hasn't had a blessed +thing to-day. We had nothing for her."</p> + +<p>Mr Fairman took some biscuits from +his pockets, and placed them on the +table. "Let the girl come in, and +eat," said he. "I shall send you some +meat from the village. Warden, I +cannot tell you how deeply I feel +your wickedness. I did expect you to +come to the parsonage and say you +were sorry. It would have looked +well, and I should have liked it. You +put it out of my power to help you. +It is most distressing to see you both +going headlong to destruction. May +you live to repent! I shall see you +again this evening, and I will speak +to you alone. Come, Mr Stukely, +our time is getting short."</p> + +<p>The incumbent spoke rapidly, and +seemed affected. I looked at him, and +could hardly believe him to be the +cold and unimpassioned man that I +had at first imagined him.</p> + +<p>We pursued our way towards the +village.</p> + +<p>"There, sir," said the minister in a +quick tone of voice, "what is the +beautiful prospect, and what are the +noble trees, to the heart of that man? +What have they to do at all with +man's morality? Had those people +never seen a shrub or flower, could +they have been more impenetrable, +more insolent and suspicious, or +steeped in vice much deeper? That +man wants only opportunity, a large +sphere of action, and the variety of +crime and motive that are to be found +amongst congregated masses of mankind, +to become a monster. His passions +and his vices are as wilful and +as strong as those of any man born +and bred in the sinks of a great city. +They have fewer outlets, less capability +of mischief—and there is the difference."</p> + +<p>I ventured no remark, and the incumbent, +after a short pause, continued +in a milder strain.</p> + +<p>"I may be, after all, weak and inefficient. +Doubtless great delicacy and +caution are required. Heavenly +truths are not to be administered to +these as to the refined and willing. +The land must be ploughed, or it is +useless to sow the seed. Am I not +perhaps, an unskilful labourer?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page328" id="page328" title="page328"></a>Mr Fairman stopped at the first +house in the village—the prettiest of +the half dozen myrtle-covered cottages +before alluded to. Here he +tapped softly, and a gentle foot that +seemed to know the visitor hastened +to admit him.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mary," said the minister, +glancing round the room—a clean +and happy-looking room it was—"where's +Michael?"</p> + +<p>"He is gone, sir, as you bade him, +to make it up with Cousin Willett. +He couldn't rest easy, sir, since you +told him that it was no use coming to +church so long as he bore malice. He +won't be long, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr Fairman smiled; and cold as his +grey eye might be, it did not seem so +steady now.</p> + +<p>"Mary, that is good of him; tell +him his minister is pleased. How is +work with him?"</p> + +<p>"He has enough to do, to carry +him to the month's end, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then at the month's end, Mary, +let him come to the parsonage. I +have something for him there. But +we can wait till then. Have you seen +the itinerary preacher since?"</p> + +<p>"It is not his time, sir. He +didn't promise to come till Monday +week."</p> + +<p>"Do neither you nor Michael speak +with him, nor listen to his public +preachings. I mean, regard him not +as one having authority. I speak solemnly, +and with a view to your eternal +peace. Do not forget."</p> + +<p>Every house was visited, and in all, +opportunity was found for the exercise +of the benevolent feelings by +which the incumbent was manifestly +actuated. He lost no occasion of affording +his flock sound instruction and +good advice. It could not be doubted +for an instant that their real welfare, +temporal and everlasting, lay +deeply in his heart. I was struck by +one distinguishing feature in his mode +of dealing with his people; it was so +opposed to the doctrine and practice +of Mr Clayton, and of those who were +connected with him. With the latter, +a certain degree of physical fervour, +and a conventional peculiarity +of expression, were insisted upon and +accepted as evidences of grace and renewed +life. With Mr Fairman, neither +acquired heat, nor the more easily +acquired jargon of a clique, were +taken into account. He rather repressed +than encouraged their existence; +but he was desirous, and even +eager, to establish rectitude of conduct +and purity of feeling in the disciples +around him: these were to him +tangible witnesses of the operation of +that celestial Spirit before whose light +the mists of simulation and deceit fade +unresistingly away. I could not help +remarking, however, that in every +cottage the same injunction was given +in respect of the itinerant; the same +solemnity of manner accompanied the +command; the same importance was +attached to its obedience. There +seemed to me, fresh from the hands +of Mr Clayton, something of bigotry +and uncharitableness in all this. I +did not hint at this effect upon my +own mind, nor did I inquire into the +motives of the minister. I was not +pleased; but I said nothing. As if +Mr Fairman read my very thoughts, +he addressed me on the subject almost +before the door of the last cottage was +closed upon us.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bigoted</i> and <i>narrow-minded,</i> are +the terms, Mr Stukely, by which the +extremely liberal would characterize +the line of conduct which I am compelled +by duty to pursue. I cannot +be frightened by harsh terms. I am +the pastor of these people, and must +decide and act for them. I am their +shepherd, and must be faithful. Poor +and ignorant, and unripe in judgment, +and easily deceived by the shows and +counterfeits of truth as the ignorant +are, is it for me to hand them over to +perplexity and risk? They are simple +believers, and are contented. They +worship God, and are at peace. They +know their lot, and do not murmur at +it. Is it right that they should be +disturbed with the religious differences +and theological subtleties which +have already divided into innumerable +sects the universal family of Christians +whom God made one? Is it fair +or merciful to whisper into their ears +the plausible reasons of dissatisfaction, +envy, and complaining, to which the +uninformed of all classes but too eagerly +listen? I have ever found the +religious and the political propagandist +united in the same individual. +The man who proposes to the simple +to improve his creed, is ready +to point out the way to better his condition. +He succeeds in rendering +him unhappy in both, and there he +leaves him. So would this man, and +<a class="pagenum" name="page329" id="page329" title="page329"></a>I would rather die for my people, +than tamely give them over to their +misery."</p> + +<p>A tall, stout, weather-beaten man, +in the coarse dress of a fisherman, descending +the hill, intercepted our way. +It was the man Cuthbert, already +mentioned by Mr Fairman. He +touched his southwester to the incumbent.</p> + +<p>"How is the boy, Cuthbert?" asked +the minister, stopping at the same +moment.</p> + +<p>"All but well, sir. Doctor Mayhew +don't mean to come again. It's +all along of them nourishments that +Miss Ellen sent us down. The Doctor +says he must have died without +them."</p> + +<p>"Well, Cuthbert, I trust that we +shall find you grateful."</p> + +<p>"Grateful, sir!" exclaimed the +man. "If ever I forget what you +have done for that poor child, I hope +the breath——" The brawny fisherman +could say no more. His eyes +filled suddenly with tears, and he held +down his head, ashamed of them. He +had no cause to be so.</p> + +<p>"Be honest and industrious, Cuthbert; +give that boy a good example. +Teach him to love his God, and his +neighbour as himself. That will be +gratitude enough, and more than pay +Miss Ellen."</p> + +<p>"I'll try to do it, sir. God bless you!"</p> + +<p>We said little till we reached the +parsonage again; but before I re-entered +its gate the Reverend Walter +Fairman had risen in my esteem, and +ceased to be considered a cold and +unfeeling man.</p> + +<p>We dined; the party consisting of +the incumbent, the six students, and +myself. The daughter, the only +daughter and child of Mr Fairman, +who was himself a widower, had not +returned from the cottage to which +she had been called in the morning. +It was necessary that a female should +be in constant attendance upon the +aged invalid; a messenger had been +despatched to the neighbouring village +for an experienced nurse; and +until her arrival Miss Fairman would +permit no one but herself to undertake +the duties of the sick chamber. +It was on this account that we were +deprived of the pleasure of her society, +for her accustomed seat was at the +head of her father's table. I was +pleased with the pupils. They were +affable and well-bred. They treated +the incumbent with marked respect, +and behaved towards their new teacher +with the generous kindness and freedom +of true young gentlemen. The +two eldest boys might be fifteen years +of age. The remaining four could +not have reached their thirteenth year. +In the afternoon I had the scholars to +myself. The incumbent retired to his +library, and left us to pass our first +day in removing the restraint that was +the natural accompaniment of our different +positions, and in securing our +intimacy. I talked of the scenery, and +found willing listeners. They understood +me better than their master, for +they were worshippers themselves. +They promised to show me lovelier +spots than any I had met with yet; sacred +corners, known only to themselves, +down by the sea, where the arbute +and laurustinus grew like trees, and +children of the ocean. Then there were +villages near, more beautiful even than +their own; one that lay in the lap of a +large hill, with the sea creeping round, +or rolling at its feet like thunder, +sometimes. What lanes, too, Miss +Fairman knew of! She would take +me into places worth the looking at; +and oh, what drawings she had made +from them! Their sisters had bought +drawings, and paid very dearly for +them too, that were not half so finely +done! They would ask her to show +me her portfolio, and she would do it +directly, for she was the kindest creature +living. It was not the worst +trait in the disposition of these boys, +that, whatever might be the subject of +conversation, or from whatever point +we might start in our discourse, they +found pleasure in making all things +bear towards the honour and renown +of their young mistress. The scenery +was nothing without Miss Fairman +and her sketches. The house was +dull without her, and the singing in +the church, if she were ill and absent, +was as different as could be. There +were the sweetest birds that could be, +heard warbling in the high trees that +lined the narrow roads; but at Miss +Fairman's window there was a nightingale +that beat them all. The day +wore on, and I did not see the general +favourite. It was dusk when she +reached the parsonage, and then she +retired immediately to rest, tired from +the labours of the day. The friend +of the family, Doctor Mayhew, had +<a class="pagenum" name="page330" id="page330" title="page330"></a>accompanied Miss Fairman home; +he remained with the incumbent, and +I continued with my young companions +until their bedtime. They departed, +leaving me their books, and +then I took a survey of the work that +was before me. My duties were to +commence on the following day, and +our first subject was the tragedy of +<i>Hecuba</i>. How very grateful did I +feel for the sound instruction which I +had received in early life from my revered +pains-taking tutor, for the solid +groundwork that he had established, +and for the rational mode of tuition +which he had from the first adopted. +From the moment that he undertook +to cultivate and inform the youthful +intellect, this became itself an active +instrument in the attainment of +knowledge—not, as is so often the +case, the mere idle depositary of encumbering +<i>words</i>. It was little that +he required to be gained by rote, for +he regarded all acquisitions as useless +in which the understanding had not +the chiefest share. He was pleased +to communicate facts, and anxious to +discover, from examination, that the +principles which they contained had +been accurately seen and understood. +Then no labour and perseverance on +his part were deemed too great for +his pupil, and the business of his life +became his first pleasure. In the +study of Greek, for which at an early +age I evinced great aptitude, I learnt +the structure of the language and its +laws from the keen observations of +my master, whose rules were drawn +from the classic work before us—rather +than from grammars. To this +hour I retain the information thus +obtained, and at no period of my life +have I ever had greater cause for +thankfulness, than when, after many +months of idleness and neglect, with a +view to purchase bread I opened, not +without anxiety, my book again, and +found that time had not impaired +my knowledge, and that light shone +brightly on the pages, as it did of old. +Towards the close of the evening, I +was invited to the study of Mr Fairman. +Doctor Mayhew was still with +him, and I was introduced to the physician +as the teacher newly arrived +from London. The doctor was a +stout good-humoured gentleman of +the middle height, with a cheerful +and healthy-looking countenance. +He was, in truth, a jovial man, as +well as a great snuff-taker. The incumbent +offered me a chair, and placed +a decanter of wine before me. His +own glass of port was untouched, +and he looked serious and dejected.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, how does London +look?" enquired the doctor, "are +the folks as mad as they used to be? +What new invention is the rage now? +What bubble is going to burst? What +lord committed forgery last? Who +was the last woman murdered before +you started?"</p> + +<p>I confessed my inability to answer.</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind. There isn't +much lost. I am almost ashamed of +old England, that's the truth on't. I +have given over reading the newspapers, +for they are about as full of +horrors as Miss What's-her-name's +tales of the Infernals. What an age +this is! all crime and fanaticism! +Everyman and everything is on the +rush. Come, Fairman, take your wine."</p> + +<p>Mr Fairman sat gazing on the fire, +quietly, and took no notice of the request. +"People's heads," continued +the medical gentleman, "seem +turned topsy-turvy. Dear me, how +different it was in my time! What +men are about, I can't think. The +very last newspaper I read had an +advertisement that I should as soon +have expected to see there when my +father was alive, as a ship sailing +along this coast keel upwards. You +saw it, Fairman. It was just under +the Everlasting Life Pill advertisement; +and announced that the Reverend +Mr Somebody would preach +on the Sunday following, at some conventicle, +when the public were invited +to listen to him—and that the doors +would be opened half an hour earlier +than usual to prevent squeezing. +That's modern religion, and it looks +as much like ancient play-acting as +two peas. Where will these marching +days of improvement bring us to +at last?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Mayhew," said Mr +Fairman, "does it not surprise you +that a girl of her age should be so +easily fatigued?"</p> + +<p>"My dear friend, that makes the +sixth time of asking. Let us hope +that it will be the last. I don't know +what you mean by '<i>so easily</i>' fatigued. +The poor girl has been in the village +all day, fomenting and poulticing old +Mrs Barnes, and if it had been any +girl but herself, she would have been +tired out long before. Make your +mind easy. I have sent the naughty +puss to bed, and she'll be as fresh as a +rose in the morning."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page331" id="page331" title="page331"></a>"She must keep her exertions within +proper bounds," continued the incumbent. +"I am sure she has not +strength enough to carry out her +good intentions. I have watched her +narrowly, and cannot be mistaken."</p> + +<p>"You do wrong, then, Fairman. +Anxious watching creates fear, without +the shadow of an excuse for it. +When we have anything like a bad +symptom, it is time to get uneasy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but what do you call a bad +symptom, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I call your worrying yourself +into fidgets, and teazing me into +an ill temper, a shocking symptom of +bad behaviour. If it continue, you +must take a doze. Come, my friend, +let me prescribe that glass of good +old port. It does credit to the cloth."</p> + +<p>"Seriously, Mayhew, have you +never noticed the short, hacking cough +that sometimes troubles her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I noticed it last January for +the space of one week, when there +was not a person within ten miles of +you who was not either hacking, as +you call it, or blowing his nose from +morning till night. The dear child +had a cold, and so had you, and I, and +everybody else."</p> + +<p>"And that sudden flush, too?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you'll be complaining of the +bloom on the peach next! That's +health, and nothing else, take my +word for it."</p> + +<p>"I am, perhaps, morbidly apprehensive; +but I cannot forget her poor +mother. You attended her, Mayhew, +and you know how suddenly that +came upon us. Poor Ellen! what +should I do without her!"</p> + +<p>"Fairman, join me in wishing success +to our young friend here. Mr +Stukely, here's your good health; and +success and happiness attend you. +You'll find little society here; but it +is of the right sort, I can tell you. +You must make yourself at home." +The minister became more cheerful, +and an hour passed in pleasant conversation. +At ten o'clock, the horse +of Doctor Mayhew was brought to the +gate, and the gentleman departed in +great good-humour. Almost immediately +afterwards, the incumbent +himself conducted me to my sleeping +apartment, and I was not loth to get +my rest. I fell asleep with the beautiful +village floating before my weary +eyes, and the first day of my residence +at the parsonage closed peacefully +upon me.</p> + +<p>It was at the breakfast table on the +succeeding morning that I beheld the +daughter of the incumbent, the favourite +and companion of my pupils, and +mistress of the house—a maiden in +her twentieth year. She was simply +and artlessly attired, gentle and retiring +in demeanour, and femininely +sweet rather than beautiful in expression. +Her figure was slender, her +voice soft and musical; her hair light +brown, and worn plain across a forehead +white as marble. The eye-brows +which arched the small, rich, hazel +eyes were delicately drawn, and the +slightly aquiline nose might have +formed a study for an artist. With +the exception, however, of this last-named +feature, there was little in the +individual lineaments of the face to +surprise or rivet the observer. Extreme +simplicity, and perfect innocence—these +were stamped upon the +countenance, and were its charm. It +was a strange feeling that possessed +me when I first gazed upon her through +the chaste atmosphere that dwelt +around her. It was degradation deep +and unaffected—a sense of shame and +undeservedness. I remembered with +self-abhorrence the relation that had +existed between the unhappy Emma +and myself, and the enormity and +disgrace of my offence never looked +so great as now, and here—in the +bright presence of unconscious purity. +She reassured and welcomed me with +a natural smile, and pursued her occupation +with quiet cheerfulness and +unconstraint. I did not wonder that +her father loved her, and entertained +the thought of losing her with fear; +for, young and gentle as she was, she +evinced wisdom and age in her deep +sense of duty, and in the government +of her happy home. Method and +order waited on her doings, and sweetness +and tranquillity—the ease and +dignity of a matron elevating and +upholding the maiden's native modesty. +And did she not love her sire +as ardently? Yes, if her virgin soul +spoke faithfully in every movement of +her guileless face. Yes, if there be +truth in tones that strike the heart to +thrill it—in thoughts that write their +meaning in the watchful eye, in words +that issue straight from the fount of +love, in acts that do not bear one +shade of selfish purpose. It was not +a labour of time to learn that the existence +of the child, her peace and +happiness, were merged in those of +<a class="pagenum" name="page332" id="page332" title="page332"></a>the fond parent. He was every thing +to her, as she to him. She had no +brother—he no wife: these natural +channels of affection cut away, the +stream was strong and deep that flowed +into each other's hearts. My first +interview with the young lady was +necessarily limited. I would gladly +have prolonged it. The morning was +passed with my pupils, and my mind +stole often from the work before me +to dwell upon the face and form of +her, whom, as a sister, I could have +doated on and cherished. How happy +I should have been, I deemed, if I +had been so blessed. Useless reflection! +and yet pleased was I to dwell +upon it, and to welcome its return, as +often as it recurred. At dinner we +met again. To be admitted into her +presence seemed the reward for my +morning toil—a privilege rather than +a right. What labour was too great +for the advantage of such moments?—moments +indeed they were, and +less—flashes of time, that were not +here before they had disappeared. +We exchanged but few words. I was +still oppressed with the conviction of +my own unworthiness, and wondered +if she could read in my burning face +the history of shame. How she must +avoid and despise me, thought I, when +she has discovered all, and how bold +and wicked it was to darken the light +in which she lived with the guilt that +was a part of me! Not the less did I +experience this when she spoke to me +with kindness and unreserve. The +feeling grew in strength. I was conscious +of deceit and fraud, and could +not shake the knowledge off. I was +taking mean advantage of her confidence, +assuming a character to which +I had no claim, and listening to the +accents of innocence and virtue with +the equanimity of one good and spotless +as herself. In the afternoon the +young students resumed their work. +When it was over, we strolled amongst +the hills; and, at the close of a delightful +walk, found ourselves in the +enchanting village. Here we encountered +Miss Fairman and the incumbent, +and we returned home in company. +In one short hour we reached +it. How many hours have passed +since <i>that</i> was ravished from the hand +of Time, and registered in the tenacious +memory! Years have floated +by, and silently have dropped into the +boundless sea, unheeded, unregretted; +and these few minutes—sacred relics—live +and linger in the world, in +mercy it may be, to lighten up my +lonely hearth, or save the whitened +head from drooping. The spirit of +one golden hour shall hover through +a life, and shed glory where he falls. +What are the unfruitful, unremembered +years that rush along, frightening +mortality with their fatal speed—an +instant in eternity! What are the +moments loaded with passion, intense, +and never-dying—years, ages upon +earth! Away with the divisions of +time, whilst one short breath—the +smallest particle or measure of duration, +shall outweigh ages. Breathless +and silent is the dewy eve. Trailing +a host of glittering clouds behind him, +the sun stalks down, and leaves the +emerald hills in deeper green. The +lambs are skipping on the path—the +shepherd as loth to lead them home +as they to go. The labourer has done +his work, and whistles his way back. +The minister has much of good and +wise to say to his young family. They +hear the business of the day; their +guardian draws the moral, and bids +them think it over. Upon my arm I +bear his child, the fairest object of the +twilight group. She tells me histories +of this charmed spot, and the good +old tales that are as old as the gray +church beneath us: she smiles, and +speaks of joys amongst the hills, ignorant +of the tearful eye and throbbing +heart beside her, that overflow +with new-found bliss, and cannot bear +their weight of happiness.</p> + +<p>Another day of natural gladness—and +then the Sabbath; this not less +cheerful and inspiriting than the preceding. +The sun shone fair upon the +ancient church, and made its venerable +gray stones sparkle and look young +again. The dark-green ivy that for +many a year has clung there, looked +no longer sad and sombre, but gay +and lively as the newest of the new-born +leaves that smiled on every tree. +The inhabitants of the secluded village +were already a-foot when we +proceeded from the parsonage, and +men and women from adjacent villages +were on the road to join them. +The deep-toned bell pealed solemnly, +and sanctified the vale; for its sound +strikes deeply ever on the broad ear +of nature. Willows and yew-trees +shelter the graves of the departed villagers, +and the living wend their way +<a class="pagenum" name="page333" id="page333" title="page333"></a>beneath them, subdued to seriousness, +it may be, by the breathless voice that +dwells in every well-remembered +mound. There is not one who does +not carry on his brow the thoughts +that best become it now. All are well +dressed, all look cleanly and contented. +The children are with their parents, +their natural and best instructors. +Whom should they love so +well? To whom is honour due if not +to them? The village owns no school +to disannul the tie of blood, to warp +and weaken the affection that holds +them well together.</p> + +<p>All was quietness and decorum in +the house of prayer. Every earnest +eye was fixed, not upon Mr Fairman, +but on the book from which the people +prayed, in which they found their +own good thoughts portrayed, their +pious wishes told, their sorrow and +repentance in clearest form described. +Every humble penitent was on his +knees. With one voice, loud and +heartfelt, came the responses which +spoke the people's acquiescence in all +the pastor urged and prayed on their +behalf. The worship over, Mr Fairman +addressed his congregation, selecting +his subject from the lesson of +the day, and fitting his words to the +capacities of those who listened. Let +me particularly note, that whilst the +incumbent pointed distinctly to the +cross as the only ground of a sinner's +hope, he insisted upon good works as +the necessary and essential accompaniment +of his faith. "Do not tell me, +my dear friends," he said, at the conclusion +of his address—"do not tell +me that you believe, if your daily life +is unworthy a believer. I will not +trust you. What is your belief, if +your heart is busy in contrivances to +overreach your neighbour? What is +it, if your mind is filled with envy, +malice, hatred, and revenge? What +if you are given over to disgraceful +lusts—to drunkenness and debauchery? +What if you are ashamed to speak the +truth, and are willing to become a +liar? I tell you, and I have warrant +for what I say, that your conduct one +towards another must be straightforward, +honest, generous, kind, and affectionate, +or you cannot be in a safe +and happy state. You owe it to yourselves +to be so; for if you are poor +and labouring men, you have an immortal +soul within you, and it is your +greatest ornament. It is that which +gives the meanest of us a dignity that +no earthly honours can supply; a dignity +that it becomes the first and last +of us by every means to cherish and +support. Is it not, my friends, degrading, +fearful to know that we bear +about with us the very image of our +God, and that we are acting worse +than the very brutes of the field? Do +yourselves justice. Be pure—pure in +mind and body. Be honest, in word +and deed. Be loving to one another. +Crush every wish to do evil, or to +speak harshly; be brothers, and feel +that you are working out the wishes +of a benevolent and loving Father, +who has created you for love, and +smiles upon you when you do his bidding." +There was more to this effect, +but nothing need be added to explain +the scope and tendency of his discourse. +His congregation could not mistake +his meaning; they could not fail to +profit by it, if reason was not proof +against the soundest argument. As +quietly as, and, if it be possible, more +seriously than, they entered the church, +did the small band of worshippers, at +the close of the service, retire from it. +Could it be my fancy, or did the wife +in truth cling closer to her husband—the +father clasp his little boy more +firmly in his hand? Did neighbour +nod to neighbour more eagerly as they +parted at the churchyard gate—did +every look and movement of the many +groups bespeak a spirit touched, a +mind reproved? I may not say so, +for my own heart was melted by the +scene, and might mislead my judgment. +There was a second service in +the afternoon. This concluded, we +walked to the sea-beach. In the evening +Mr Fairman related a connected +history from the Old Testament, +whilst the pupils tracked his progress +on their maps, and the narrative became +a living thing in their remembrances. +Serious conversation then +succeeded; to this a simple prayer, +and the day closed, sweetly and calmly, +as a day might close in Paradise.</p> + +<p>The events of the following month +partook of the character of those already +glanced at. The minister was +unremitting in his attendance upon +his parishioners, and no day passed +during which something had not been +accomplished for their spiritual improvement +or worldly comfort. His +loving daughter was a handmaid at +his side, ministering with him, and +<a class="pagenum" name="page334" id="page334" title="page334"></a>shedding sunshine where she came. +The villagers were frugal and industrious; +and seemed, for the most part, +sensible of their incumbent's untiring +efforts. Improvement appeared even +in the cottage of the desperate Warden. +Mr Fairman obtained employment for +him. For a fortnight he had attended +to it, and no complaint had reached +the parsonage of misbehaviour. His +wife had learned to bear her imagined +wrongs in silence, and could even +submit to a visit from her best friend +without insulting him for the condescension. +My own days passed +smoothly on. My occupation grew +every day more pleasing, and the results +of my endeavours as gratifying +as I could wish them. My pupils were +attached to me, and I beheld them improving +gradually and securely under +their instruction. Mr Fairman, who, +for a week together, had witnessed the +course of my tuition, and watched it +narrowly, was pleased to express his +approbation in the warmest terms. +Much of the coldness with which I +thought he had at first encountered +me disappeared, and his manner grew +daily more friendly and confiding. His +treatment was most generous. He +received me into the bosom of his +family as a son, and strove to render +his fair habitation my genuine and natural +home.</p> + +<p>Another month passed by, and the +colour and tone of my existence had +suffered a momentous change. In the +acquirement of a fearful joy, I had +lost all joy. In rendering every moment +of my life blissful and ecstatic, +I had robbed myself of all felicity. A +few weeks before, and my state of +being had realized a serenity that defied +all causes of perturbation and disquiet. +Now it was a sea of agitation +and disorder; and a breath, a nothing +had brought the restless waves upon +the quiet surface. Through the kindness +of Mr Fairman, my evenings had +been almost invariably passed in the society +of himself and his daughter. The +lads were early risers, and retired, on +that account, at a very early hour to +rest. Upon their dismission, I had +been requested to join the company in +the drawing-room. This company included +sometimes Doctor Mayhew, +the neighbouring squire, or a chance +visitor, but consisted oftenest only of +the incumbent and his daughter. +Aware of the friendly motive which +suggested the request, I obeyed it with +alacrity. On these occasions, Miss +Fairman used her pencil, whilst I read +aloud; or she would ply her needle, +and soothe at intervals her father's +ear with strains of music, which he, for +many reasons, loved to hear. Once or +twice the incumbent had been called +away, and his child and I were left +together. I had no reason to be silent +whilst the good minister was present, +yet I found that I could speak more +confidently and better when he was +absent. We conversed with freedom +and unrestraint. I found the maiden's +mind well stored—her voice was not +more sweet than was her understanding +clear and cloudless. Books had +been her joy, which, in the season of +suffering, had been my consolation. +They were a common source of pleasure. +She spoke of them with feeling, +and I could understand her. I regarded +her with deep unfeigned respect; but, +the evening over, I took my leave, as +I had come—in peace. Miss Fairman +left the parsonage to pay a two-days' +visit at a house in the vicinity. Until +the evening of the first day I was not +sensible of her absence. It was then, +and at the customary hour of our reunion, +that, for the first time, I experienced, +with alarm, a sense of loneliness +and desertion—that I became tremblingly +conscious of the secret growth +of an affection that had waited only +for the time and circumstance to make +its presence and its power known and +dreaded. In the daily enjoyment of +her society, I had not estimated its +influence and value. Once denied it, +and I dared not acknowledge to myself +how precious it had become, how +silently and fatally it had wrought +upon my heart. The impropriety and +folly of self-indulgence were at once +apparent—yes, the vanity and wickedness—and, +startled by what looked +like guilt, I determined manfully to +rise superior to temptation. I took +refuge in my books; they lacked their +usual interest, were ineffectual in reducing +the ruffled mind to order. I +rose and paced my room, but I could +not escape from agitating thought. I +sought the minister in his study, and +hoped to bring myself to calm and +reason by dwelling seriously on the +business of the day—with him, the +father of the lady, and <i>my master</i>. He +was not there. He had left the parsonage +with Doctor Mayhew an hour +<a class="pagenum" name="page335" id="page335" title="page335"></a>before. I walked into the open air +restless and unhappy, relying on the +freshness and repose of night to be +subdued and comforted. It was a +night to soften anger—to conquer +envy—to destroy revenge—beautiful +and bright. The hills were bathed in +liquid silvery light, and on their heights, +and in the vale, on all around, lay +passion slumbering. What could I +find on such a night, but favour and +incitement, support and confirmation, +flattery and delusion? Every object +ministered to the imagination, and +love had given that wings. I trembled +as I pursued my road, and fuel found +its unobstructed way rapidly to the +flame within. Self-absorbed, I wandered +on. I did not choose my path. +I believed I did not, and I stopped at +length—before the house that held +her. I gazed upon it with reverence +and love. One room was lighted up. +Shadows flitted across the curtained +window, and my heart throbbed sensibly +when, amongst them, I imagined +I could trace her form. I was borne +down by a conviction of wrong and +culpability, but I could not move, or +for a moment draw away my look. It +was a strange assurance that I felt—but +I did feel it, strongly and +emphatically—that I should see her palpably +before I left the place. I waited for +that sight in certain expectation, and +it came. A light was carried from +the room. Diminished illumination +there, and sudden brightness against a +previously darkened casement, made +this evident. The light ascended—another +casement higher than the last +was, in its turn, illumined, and it betrayed +her figure. She approached +the window, and, for an instant—oh +how brief!—looked into the heavenly +night. My poor heart sickened with +delight, and I strained my eyes long +after all was blank and dark again.</p> + +<p>Daylight, and the employments of +day, if they did not remove, weakened +the turbulence of the preceding +night. The more I found my passion +acquiring mastery, with greater +vigour I renewed my work, and with +more determination I pursued the +objects that were most likely to fight +and overcome it. I laboured with the +youths for a longer period. I undertook +to prepare a composition for the +following day which I knew must take +much thought and many hours in +working out. I armed myself at all +points—but the evening came and +found me once more conscious of +a void that left me prostrate. Mr +Fairman was again absent from home. +I could not rest in it, and I too sallied +forth, but this time, to the village. I +would not deliberately offer violence +to my conscience, and I shrunk from +a premeditated visit to the distant +house. My own acquaintances in +the village were not many, or of long +standing, but there were some half +dozen, especial favourites of the incumbent's +daughter. To one of these +I bent my steps, with no other purpose +than that of baffling time that +hung upon me painfully and heavily +at home. For a few minutes I spoke +with the aged female of the house on +general topics; then a passing observation—in +spite of me—escaped my +lips in reference to Miss Ellen. The +villager took up the theme and expatiated +widely. There was no end to +what she had to say of good and kind +for the dear lady. I could have hugged +her for her praise. Prudence bade +me forsake the dangerous ground, and +so I did, to return again with tenfold +curiosity and zest. I asked a hundred +questions, each one revealing more +interest and ardour than the last, and +involving me in deeper peril. It was +at length accomplished. My companion +hesitated suddenly in a discourse, +then stopped, and looked me in the +face, smiling cunningly. "I tell you +what, sir," she exclaimed at last, and +loudly, "you are over head and ears +in love, and that's the truth on't."</p> + +<p>"Hush, good woman," I replied, +blushing to the forehead, and hastening +to shut an open door. "Don't +speak so loud. You mistake, it is no +such thing. I shall be angry if you +say so—very angry. What can you +mean?"</p> + +<p>"Just what I say, sir. Why, do +you know how old I am? Seventy-three. +I think I ought to tell, and +where's the harm of it? Who couldn't +love the sweetest lady in the parish—bless +her young feeling heart!"</p> + +<p>"I tell you—you mistake—you are +to blame. I command you not to repeat +this to a living soul. If it should +come to the incumbent's ears"—</p> + +<p>"Trust me for that, sir. I'm no +blab. He shan't be wiser for such as +me. But do you mean to tell me, sir, +with that red face of your'n, you +haven't lost your heart—leave alone +<a class="pagenum" name="page336" id="page336" title="page336"></a>your trembling? ah, well, I hopes +you'll both be happy, anyhow."</p> + +<p>I endeavoured to remonstrate, but +the old woman only laughed and shook +her aged head. I left her, grieved +and apprehensive. My secret thoughts +had been discovered. How soon +might they be carried to the confiding +minister and his unsuspecting daughter! +What would they think of me! +It was a day of anxiety and trouble, +that on which Miss Fairman returned +to the parsonage. I received my +usual invitation; but I was indisposed, +and did not go. I resolved to see her +only during meals, and when it was +impossible to avoid her. I would not +seek her presence. Foolish effort! +It had been better to pass hours in +her sight, for previous separation made +union more intense, and the passionate +enjoyment of a fleeting instant +was hoarded up, and became nourishment +for the livelong day.</p> + +<p>It was a soft rich afternoon in +June, and chance made me the companion +of Miss Fairman. We were +alone: I had encountered her at a distance +of about a mile from the parsonage, +on the sea-shore, whither I had +walked distressed in spirit, and grateful +for the privilege of listening in gloomy +quietude to the soothing sounds of +nature—medicinal ever. The lady +was at my side almost before I was +aware of her approach. My heart +throbbed whilst she smiled upon me, +sweetly as she smiled on all. Her +deep hazel eye was moist. Could it +be from weeping?</p> + +<p>"What has happened, Miss Fairman?" +I asked immediately.</p> + +<p>"Do I betray my weakness, then?" +she answered. "I am sorry for it; +for dear papa tells all the villagers +that no wise man weeps—and no wise +woman either, I suppose. But I cannot +help it. We are but a small family +in the village, and it makes me +very sad to miss the old faces one after +another, and to see old friends dropping +and dropping into the silent +grave."</p> + +<p>As she spoke the church-bell tolled, +and she turned pale, and ceased. I +offered her my arm, and we walked +on.</p> + +<p>"Whom do you mourn, Miss +Fairman?" I asked at length.</p> + +<p>"A dear good friend—my best and +oldest. When poor mamma was +dying, she made me over to her care. +She was her nurse, and was mine for +years. It is very wrong of me to weep +for her. She was good and pious, +and is blest."</p> + +<p>The church-bell tolled again, and +my companion shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I cannot listen to that bell," +she said. "I wish papa would do +away with it. What a withering +sound it has! I heard it first when it +was tolling for my dear mother. It +fell upon my heart like iron then, and +it falls so now."</p> + +<p>"I cannot say that I dislike the +melancholy chime. Death is sad. Its +messenger should not be gay."</p> + +<p>"It is the soul that sees and hears. +Beauty and music are created quickly +if the heart be joyful. So my book says, +and it is true. You have had no cause +to think that bell a hideous thing."</p> + +<p>"Yet I have suffered youth's severest +loss. I have lost a mother."</p> + +<p>"You speak the truth. Yes, I have +a kind father left me—and you"—</p> + +<p>"I am an orphan, friendless and +deserted. God grant, Miss Fairman, +you may be spared my fate for years."</p> + +<p>"Not friendless or deserted either, +Mr Stukely," answered the young +lady kindly; "papa does not deserve, +I am sure, that you should speak so +harshly."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Miss Fairman. I did +not mean to say that. He has been +most generous to me—kinder than I +deserve. But I have borne much, +and still must bear. The fatherless +and motherless is in the world alone. +He needs no greater punishment."</p> + +<p>"You must not talk so. Papa will, +I am sure, be a father to you, as he is +to all who need one. You do not +know him, Mr Stukely. His heart is +overflowing with tenderness and charity. +You cannot judge him by his +manner. He has had his share of sorrow +and misfortune; and death has +been at his door oftener than once. +Friends have been unfaithful and men +have been ungrateful; but trial and +suffering have not hardened him. You +have seen him amongst the poor, but +you have not seen him as I have; nor +have I beheld him as his Maker has, +in the secret workings of his spirit, +which is pure and good, believe me. +He has received injury like a child, +and dealt mercy and love with the liberality +of an angel. Trust my father, +Mr Stukely."—</p> + +<p>The maiden spoke quickly and +<a class="pagenum" name="page337" id="page337" title="page337"></a>passionately, and her neck and face +crimsoned with animation. I quivered, +for her tones communicated fire—but +my line of conduct was marked, +and it shone clear in spite of the clouds +of emotion which strove to envelope +and conceal it—as they did too soon.</p> + +<p>"I would trust him, Miss Fairman, +and I do," I answered with a faltering +tongue. "I appreciate his character +and I revere him. I could have made +my home with him. I prayed that I +might do so. Heaven seemed to have +directed my steps to this blissful spot, +and to have pointed out at length a +resting place for my tired feet. I have +been most happy here—too happy—I +have proved ungrateful, and I know +how rashly I have forfeited this and +every thing. I cannot live here. This +is no home for me. I will go into the +world again—cast myself upon it—do +any thing. I could be a labourer +on the highways, and be contented +if I could see that I had done my duty, +and behaved with honour. Believe +me, Miss Fairman, I have not deliberately +indulged—I have struggled, +fought, and battled, till my brain has +tottered. I am wretched and forlorn—but +I will leave you—to-morrow—would +that I had never come——." +I could say no more. My full heart +spoke its agony in tears.</p> + +<p>"What has occurred? What afflicts +you? You alarm me, Mr Stukely."</p> + +<p>I had sternly determined to permit +no one look to give expression to the +feeling which consumed me, to obstruct +by force the passage of the remotest +hint that should struggle to +betray me; but as the maiden looked +full and timidly upon me, I felt in defiance +of me, and against all opposition, +the tell-tale passion rising from +my soul, and creeping to my eye. It +would not be held back. In an instant, +with one treacherous glance, all +was spoken and revealed.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>By that dejected city, Arno runs,</p> +<p>Where Ugolino clasps his famisht sons.</p> +<p>There wert thou born, my Julia! there thine eyes</p> +<p>Return'd as bright a blue to vernal skies.</p> +<p>And thence, my little wanderer! when the Spring</p> +<p>Advanced, thee, too, the hours on silent wing</p> +<p>Brought, while anemonies were quivering round,</p> +<p>And pointed tulips pierced the purple ground,</p> +<p>Where stood fair Florence: there thy voice first blest</p> +<p>My ear, and sank like balm into my breast:</p> +<p>For many griefs had wounded it, and more</p> +<p>Thy little hands could lighten were in store.</p> +<p>But why revert to griefs? Thy sculptured brow</p> +<p>Dispels from mine its darkest cloud even now.</p> +<p>What then the bliss to see again thy face,</p> +<p>And all that Rumour has announced of grace!</p> +<p>I urge, with fevered breast, the four-month day.</p> +<p>O! could I sleep to wake again in May.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.</p> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<a name="bw329s4" id="bw329s4"></a> +<a class="pagenum" name="page338" id="page338" title="page338"></a> +<h2>IMAGINARY CONVERSATION. BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.</h2> + +<h3>SANDT AND KOTZEBUE.</h3> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Generally men of letters in our days, contrary to the practice of +antiquity, are little fond of admitting the young and unlearned into their +studies or their society.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—They should rather those than others. The young <i>must</i> cease +to be young, and the unlearned <i>may</i> cease to be unlearned. According to the +letters you bring with you, sir, there is only youth against you. In the seclusion +of a college life, you appear to have studied with much assiduity and advantage, +and to have pursued no other courses than the paths of wisdom.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Do you approve of the pursuit?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Who does not?</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—None, if you will consent that they direct the chase, bag the game, +inebriate some of the sportsmen, and leave the rest behind in the slough. +May I ask you another question?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Certainly.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Where lie the paths of wisdom? I did not expect, my dear sir +to throw you back upon your chair. I hope it was no rudeness to seek information +from you?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—The paths of wisdom, young man, are those which lead us to +truth and happiness.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—If they lead us away from fortune, from employments, from civil +and political utility; if they cast us where the powerful persecute, where the +rich trample us down, and where the poorer (at seeing it) despise us, rejecting +our counsel and spurning our consolation, what valuable truth do they +enable us to discover, or what rational happiness to expect? To say that +wisdom leads to truth, is only to say that wisdom leads to wisdom; for such +is truth. Nonsense is better than falsehood; and we come to that.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—How?</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—No falsehood is more palpable than that wisdom leads to happiness—I +mean in this world; in another, we may well indeed believe that +the words are constructed of very different materials. But here we are, +standing on a barren molehill that crumbles and sinks under our tread; here +we are, and show me from hence, Von Kotzebue, a discoverer who has not +suffered for his discovery, whether it be of a world or of a truth—whether a +Columbus or a Galileo. Let us come down lower: Show me a man who +has detected the injustice of a law, the absurdity of a tenet, the malversation +of a minister, or the impiety of a priest, and who has not been stoned, or +hanged, or burnt, or imprisoned, or exiled, or reduced to poverty. The chain +of Prometheus is hanging yet upon his rock, and weaker limbs writhe daily +in its rusty links. Who then, unless for others, would be a darer of wisdom? +And yet, how full of it is even the inanimate world? We may gather it out +of stones and straws. Much lies within the reach of all: little has been +collected by the wisest of the wise. O slaves to passion! O minions to power! +ye carry your own scourges about you; ye endure their tortures daily; yet +ye crouch for more. Ye believe that God beholds you; ye know that he will +punish you, even worse than ye punish yourselves; and still ye lick the dust +where the Old Serpent went before you.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—I am afraid, sir, you have formed to yourself a romantic and +strange idea, both of happiness and of wisdom.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—I too am afraid it may be so. My idea of happiness is, the power +of communicating peace, good-will, gentle affections, ease, comfort, independence, +freedom, to all men capable of them.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—The idea is, truly, no humble one.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—A higher may descend more securely on a stronger mind. The +power of communicating those blessings to the capable, is enough for my +aspirations. A stronger mind may exercise its faculties in the divine work of +creating the capacity.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page339" id="page339" title="page339"></a><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Childish! childish!—Men have cravings enow already; give +them fresh capacities, and they will have fresh appetites. Let us be contented +in the sphere wherein it is the will of Providence to place us; and let us render +ourselves useful in it to the utmost of our power, without idle aspirations +after impracticable good.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—O sir! you lead me where I tremble to step; to the haunts of your +intellect, to the recesses of your spirit. Alas! alas! how small and how +vacant is the central chamber of the lofty pyramid?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Is this to me?</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—To you, and many mightier. Reverting to your own words; could +not you yourself have remained in the sphere you were placed in?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—What sphere? I have written dramas, and novels, and travels. +I have been called to the Imperial Court of Russia.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—You sought celebrity.—I blame not that. The thick air of multitudes +may be good for some constitutions of mind, as the thinner of solitudes +is for others. Some horses will not run without the clapping of hands; others +fly out of the course rather than hear it. But let us come to the point. Imperial +courts! What do they know of letters? What letters do they countenance—do +they tolerate?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Plays.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Playthings.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Travels.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—On their business. O ye paviours of the dreary road along which +their cannon rolls for conquest! my blood throbs at every stroke of your +rammers. When will ye lay them by?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—We are not such drudges.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Germans! Germans! Must ye never have a rood on earth ye can +call your own, in the vast inheritance of your fathers?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Those who strive and labour, gain it; and many have rich possessions.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—None; not the highest.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Perhaps you may think them insecure; but they are not lost yet, +although the rapacity of France does indeed threaten to swallow them up. +But her fraudulence is more to be apprehended than her force. The promise +of liberty is more formidable than the threat of servitude. The wise know +that she never will bring us freedom; the brave know that she never can +bring us thraldom. She herself is alike impatient of both; in the dazzle of +arms she mistakes the one for the other, and is never more agitated than in +the midst of peace.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—The fools that went to war against her, did the only thing that +could unite her; and every sword they drew was a conductor of that lightening +which fell upon their heads. But we must now look at our homes. +Where there is no strict union, there is no perfect love; and where no perfect +love, there is no true helper. Are you satisfied, sir, at the celebrity and +the distinctions you have obtained?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—My celebrity and distinctions, if I must speak of them, quite +satisfy me. Neither in youth nor in advancing age—neither in difficult nor +in easy circumstances, have I ventured to proclaim myself the tutor or the +guardian of mankind.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—I understand the reproof, and receive it humbly and gratefully. +You did well in writing the dramas, and the novels, and the travels; but, +pardon my question, who called you to the courts of princes in strange +countries?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—They themselves.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—They have no more right to take you away from your country, +than to eradicate a forest, or to subvert a church in it. You belong to the +land that bore you, and were not at liberty—(if right and liberty are one, and +unless they are, they are good for nothing)—you were not at liberty, I repeat +it, to enter into the service of an alien.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—No magistrate, higher or lower, forbade me. Fine notions of +freedom are these!</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—A man is always a minor in regard to his fatherland; and the servants +<a class="pagenum" name="page340" id="page340" title="page340"></a>of his fatherland are wrong and criminal, if they whisper in his ear that +he may go away, that he may work in another country, that he may ask to be +fed in it, and that he may wait there until orders and tasks are given for his +hands to execute. Being a German, you voluntarily placed yourself in a +position where you might eventually be coerced to act against Germans.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—I would not.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Perhaps you think so.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Sir, I know my duty.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—We all do; yet duties are transgressed, and daily. Where the will +is weak in accepting, it is weaker in resisting. Already have you left the +ranks of your fellow-citizens—already have you taken the enlisting money and +marched away.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Phrases! metaphors! and let me tell you, M. Sandt, not very +polite ones. You have hitherto seen little of the world, and you speak rather +the language of books than of men.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—What! are books written by some creatures of less intellect than +ours? I fancied them to convey the language and reasonings of men. I was +wrong, and you are right, Von Kotzebue! They are, in general, the productions +of such as have neither the constancy of courage, nor the continuity of +sense, to act up to what they know to be right, or to maintain it, even in +words, to the end of their lives. You are aware that I am speaking now of +political ethics. This is the worst I can think of the matter, and bad enough +is this.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—You misunderstand me. Our conduct must fall in with our +circumstances. We may be patriotic, yet not puritanical in our patriotism, +not harsh, nor intolerant, nor contracted. The philosophical mind should +consider the whole world as its habitation, and not look so minutely into it +as to see the lines that divide nations and governments; much less should it +act the part of a busy shrew, and take pleasure in giving loose to the tongue, +at finding things a little out of place.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—We will leave the shrew where we find her: she certainly is better +with the comedian than with the philosopher. But this indistinctness in the +moral and political line begets indifference. He who does not keep his own +country more closely in view than any other, soon mixes land with sea, and +sea with air, and loses sight of every thing, at least, for which he was placed +in contact with his fellow men. Let us unite, if possible, with the nearest: +Let usages and familiarities bind us: this being once accomplished, let us +confederate for security and peace with all the people round, particularly +with people of the same language, laws, and religion. We pour out wine to +those about us, wishing the same fellowship and conviviality to others: but +to enlarge the circle would disturb and deaden its harmony. We irrigate the +ground in our gardens: the public road may require the water equally: yet +we give it rather to our borders; and first to those that lie against the house! +God himself did not fill the world at once with happy creatures: he enlivened +one small portion of it with them, and began with single affections, as well as +pure and unmixt. We must have an object and an aim, or our strength, if +any strength belongs to us, will be useless.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—There is much good sense in these remarks: but I am not at +all times at leisure and in readiness to receive instruction. I am old enough to +have laid down my own plans of life; and I trust I am by no means deficient +in the relations I bear to society.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Lovest thou thy children? Oh! my heart bleeds! But the birds +can fly; and the nest requires no warmth from the parent, no cover against +the rain and the wind.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—This is wildness: this is agony. Your face is laden with large +drops; some of them tears, some not. Be more rational and calm, my dear +young man! and less enthusiastic.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—They who will not let us be rational, make us enthusiastic by force. +Do you love your children? I ask you again. If you do, you must love them +more than another man's. Only they who are indifferent to all, profess a +parity.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Sir! indeed your conversation very much surprises me.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page341" id="page341" title="page341"></a><i>Sandt</i>.—I see it does: you stare, and would look proud. Emperors and +kings, and all but maniacs, would lose that faculty with me. I could speedily +bring them to a just sense of their nothingness, unless their ears were calked +and pitched, although I am no Savonarola. He, too, died sadly!</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Amid so much confidence of power, and such an assumption of +authority, your voice is gentle—almost plaintive.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—It should be plaintive. Oh, could it be but persuasive!</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Why take this deep interest in me? I do not merit nor require +it. Surely any one would think we had been acquainted with each other for +many years.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—What! should I have asked you such a question as the last, after +long knowing you?</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>, (<i>aside</i>.)—This resembles insanity.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—The insane have quick ears, sir, and sometimes quick apprehensions.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—I really beg your pardon.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—I ought not then to have heard you, and beg yours. My madness +could release many from a worse; from a madness which hurts them grievously; +a madness which has been and will be hereditary: mine, again and again +I repeat it, would burst asunder the strong swathes that fasten them to pillar +and post. Sir! sir! if I entertained not the remains of respect for you, in +your domestic state, I should never have held with you this conversation. +Germany is Germany: she ought to have nothing political in common with +what is not Germany. Her freedom and security now demand that she celebrate +the communion of the faithful. Our country is the only one in all the +explored regions on earth that never has been conquered. Arabia and Russia +boast it falsely; France falsely; Rome falsely. A fragment off the empire of +Darius fell and crushed her: Valentinian was the footstool of Sapor, and +Rome was buried in Byzantium. Boys must not learn this, and men will not. +Britain, the wealthiest and most powerful of nations, and, after our own, the +most literate and humane, received from us colonies and laws. Alas! those +laws, which she retains as her fairest heritage, we value not: we surrender +them to gangs of robbers, who fortify themselves within walled cities, and +enter into leagues against us. When they quarrel, they push us upon one +another's sword, and command us to thank God for the victories that enslave +us. These are the glories we celebrate; these are the festivals we hold, on +the burial-mounds of our ancestors. Blessed are those who lie under them! +blessed are also those who remember what they were, and call upon their +names in the holiness of love.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Moderate the transport that inflames and consumes you. There +is no dishonour in a nation being conquered by a stronger.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—There may be great dishonour in letting it be stronger; great, for +instance, in our disunion.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—We have only been conquered by the French in our turn.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—No, sir, no: we have not been, in turn or out. Our puny princes +were disarmed by promises and lies: they accepted paper crowns from the +very thief who was sweeping into his hat their forks and spoons. A cunning +traitor snared incautious ones, plucked them, devoured them, and slept upon +their feathers.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—I would rather turn back with you to the ancient glories of our +country than fix my attention on the sorrowful scenes more near to us. We +may be justly proud of our literary men, who unite the suffrages of every +capital, to the exclusion of almost all their own.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Many Germans well deserve this honour, others are manger-fed +and hirelings.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—The English and the Greeks are the only nations that rival us +in poetry, or in any works of imagination.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—While on this high ground we pretend to a rivalship with England +and Greece, can we reflect, without a sinking of the heart, on our inferiority +in political and civil dignity? Why are we lower than they? Our mothers +are like their mothers; our children are like their children; our limbs are as +strong, our capacities are as enlarged, our desire of improvement in the arts +<a class="pagenum" name="page342" id="page342" title="page342"></a>and sciences is neither less vivid and generous, nor less temperate and well-directed. +The Greeks were under disadvantages which never bore in any +degree on us; yet they rose through them vigorously and erectly. They +were Asiatic in what ought to be the finer part of the affections; their women +were veiled and secluded, never visited the captive, never released the slave, +never sat by the sick in the hospital, never heard the child's lesson repeated +in the school. Ours are more tender, compassionate, and charitable, than +poets have feigned of the past, or prophets have announced of the future; +and, nursed at their breasts and educated at their feet, blush we not at our +degeneracy? The most indifferent stranger feels a pleasure at finding, in +the worst-written history of Spain, her various kingdoms ultimately mingled, +although the character of the governors, and perhaps of the governed, is congenial +to few. What delight, then, must overflow on Europe, from seeing +the mother of her noblest nation rear again her venerable head, and bless all +her children for the first time united!</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—I am bound to oppose such a project.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Say not so: in God's name, say not so.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—In such confederacy I see nothing but conspiracy and rebellion, +and I am bound, I tell you again, sir, to defeat it, if possible.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt.</i>—Bound! I must then release you.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—How should you, young gentleman, release me?</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—May no pain follow the cutting of the knot! But think again: +think better: spare me!</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—I will not betray you.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—That would serve nobody: yet, if in your opinion betraying me +can benefit you or your family, deem it no harm; so much greater has been +done by you in abandoning the cause of Germany. Here is your paper; +here is your ink.</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—Do you imagine me an informer?</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—From maxims and conduct such as yours, spring up the brood, the +necessity, and the occupation of them. There would be none, if good men +thought it a part of goodness to be as active and vigilant as the bad. I must +go, sir! Return to yourself in time! How it pains me to think of losing you! +Be my friend!</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—I would be.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>.—Be a German!</p> + +<p><i>Kotzebue</i>.—I am.</p> + +<p><i>Sandt</i>, (<i>having gone out</i>.)—Perjurer and profaner! Yet his heart is kindly. +I must grieve for him! Away with tenderness! I disrobe him of the privilege +to pity me or to praise me, as he would have done had I lived of old. +Better men shall do more. God calls them: me too he calls: I will enter the +door again. May the greater sacrifice bring the people together, and hold +them evermore in peace and concord. The lesser victim follows willingly. +(<i>Enters again</i>.)</p> + +<p>Turn! die! (<i>strikes</i>.)</p> + +<p>Alas! alas! no man ever fell alone. How many innocent always perish +with one guilty! and writhe longer!</p> + +<p>Unhappy children! I shall weep for you elsewhere. Some days are left +me. In a very few the whole of this little world will lie between us. I have +sanctified in you the memory of your father. Genius but reveals dishonour, +commiseration covers it.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<a name="bw329s5" id="bw329s5"></a> +<a class="pagenum" name="page343" id="page343" title="page343"></a> +<h2>THE JEWELLER'S WIFE.</h2> + +<h3>A PASSAGE IN THE CAREER OF EL EMPECINADO.</h3> + +<p>When the Empecinado, after escaping +from the Burgo de Osma, rejoined +his band, and again repaired to the +favourite skirmishing ground on the +banks of the Duero, he found the state +of affairs in Old Castile becoming +daily less favourable for his operations. +The French overran the greater +part of the province, and visited +with severe punishment any disobedience +of their orders; so that the +peasantry no longer dared to assist +the guerillas as they had previously +done. Many of the villages on the +Duero had become <i>afrancesados</i>, not, +it is true, through love, but through +dread of the invaders, and in the hope +of preserving themselves from pillage +and oppression. However much the +people in their hearts might wish success +to men like the Empecinado, the +guerillas were too few and too feeble +to afford protection to those who, by +giving them assistance or information, +would incur the displeasure of the +French. The clergy were the only +class that, almost without an exception, +remained stanch to the cause +of Spanish independence, and their +purses and refectories were ever open +to those who took up arms in its defence.</p> + +<p>Noways deterred by this unfavourable +aspect of affairs, the Empecinado +resolved to carry on the war in Old +Castile, even though unaided and alone. +He established his bivouac in the pine-woods +of Coca, and sent out spies towards +Somosierra and Burgos, to get +information of some convoy of which +the capture might yield both honour +and profit.</p> + +<p>It was on the second morning after +the departure of the spies, and a few +minutes before daybreak, that the +little camp was aroused by a shot from +a sentry, placed on the skirt of the +wood. In an instant every man was +on his feet. It was the Empecinado's +custom, when outlying in this manner, +to make one-half his band sleep fully +armed and equipped, with their horses +saddled and bridled beside them; and +a fortunate precaution it was in this +instance. Scarcely had the men time +to untether and spring upon their +horses, when the sentry galloped +headlong into the camp.</p> + +<p>"<i>Los Franceses! Los Franceses</i>!" +exclaimed he, breathless with speed.</p> + +<p>One of the Empecinado's first qualities +was his presence of mind, which +never deserted him even in the most +critical situations. Instantly forming +up that moiety of his men which was +already in the saddle, he left a detachment +in front of those who were hastily +saddling and arming, and with the remainder +retired a little to the left of +the open ground on which the bivouac +was established. Almost before he +had completed this arrangement, the +jingling of arms and clattering of +horses' feet were heard, and a squadron +of French cavalry galloped +down the glade. The Empecinado +gave the word to charge, and as +Fuentes at the head of one party advanced +to meet them, he himself attacked +them in flank. The French, +not having anticipated much opposition +from a foe whom they had expected +to find sleeping, were somewhat +surprized at the fierce resistance +they met. A hard fight took place, +rendered still more confused by the +darkness, or rather by a faint grey +light, which was just beginning to appear, +and gave a shadowy indistinctness +to surrounding objects. The +Spaniards were inferior in number to +their opponents, and it was beginning +to go hard with them, when the remainder +of the guerillas, now armed +and mounted, came up to their assistance. +On perceiving this accession +to their adversaries' force, the French +thought they had been led into an +ambuscade, and retreating in tolerable +order to the edge of the wood, at last +fairly turned tail and ran for it, leaving +several killed and wounded on the +ground, and were pursued for some distance +by the guerillas, who, however, +only succeeded in making one prisoner. +This was a young man in the dress of +a peasant, who being badly mounted, +was easily overtaken. On being +brought before the Empecinado, the +latter with no small surprize recognized +<a class="pagenum" name="page344" id="page344" title="page344"></a>a native of Aranda, named Pedro +Gutierrez, who was one of the +emissaries he had sent out two days +previously to get information concerning +the movements of the enemy.</p> + +<p>With pale cheek and faltering +voice, the prisoner answered the Empecinado's +interrogatories. It appears +that he had been detected as a spy by +the French, who had given him his +choice between a halter and the betrayal +of his countrymen and employers. +With the fear of death before +his eyes, he had consented to turn +traitor.</p> + +<p>The deepest silence prevailed among +the guerillas during his narrative, and +remained unbroken for a full minute +after he had concluded. The Empecinado's +brow was black as thunder, +and his features assumed an expression +which the trembling wretch well +knew how to interpret.</p> + +<p>"<i>Que podia hacer, señores</i>?" said +the culprit, casting an appealing, imploring +glance around him. "The +rope was round my neck; I have an +aged father and am his only support. +Life is very sweet. What could I +do?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Die</i>!" replied the Empecinado, +in his deep stern voice—"Die like a +man <i>then</i>, instead of dying like a dog +<i>now</i>!"</p> + +<p>He turned his back upon him, and +ten minutes later, the body of the unfortunate +spy was dangling from the +branches of a neighbouring tree, and +the guerillas marched off to seek another +and a safer bivouac.</p> + +<p>A few days after this incident the +other spies returned, and after receiving +their report, and consulting with +his lieutenant, Mariano Fuentes, the +Empecinado broke up the little camp, +and led his band in the direction of +the <i>camino réal</i>.</p> + +<p>Along that part of the high-road, +from Madrid to the Pyrenees, which +winds through the mountain range of +Onrubias, an escort of fifty French +dragoons was marching, about an hour +before dusk, on an evening of early +spring. Two carriages, and three or +four heavily-laden carts, each drawn +by half-a-dozen mules, composed the +whole of the convoy; the value of +which, however, might be deemed +considerable, judging from the strength +of the escort, and the precautions observed +by the officer in command to +avoid a surprise—precautions which +were not of much avail; for, on reaching +a spot where the road widened +considerably, and was traversed by a +broad ravine, the party was suddenly +charged on either flank by double their +number of guerillas. The dragoons +made a gallant resistance, but it was +a short one, for they had no room or +time to form in any order, and were +far overmatched in the hand-to-hand +contest that ensued. With the very +first who fled went a gentleman in +civilian's garb, who sprang out of the +most elegant of the two carriages, and +mounting a fine Andalusian horse led +by a groom, was off like the wind, +disregarding the shrieks of his travelling +companion, a female two or three-and-twenty +years old, of great beauty, +and very richly attired. The cries +and alarm of the lady thus deserted +were redoubled, when an instant later +a guerilla of fierce aspect presented +himself at the carriage-door.</p> + +<p>"Have no fear, señora," said the +Empecinado, "you are in the hands +of honourable men, and no harm shall +be done you." And having by suchlike +assurances succeeded in calming +her terrors, he obtained from her +some information as to the contents +of the carts and carriages, as well as +regarding herself and her late companion.</p> + +<p>The man who had abandoned her, +and consulted his own safety by flying +with the escort, was her husband, +Monsieur Barbot, jeweller and diamond +merchant to the late King +Charles the Fourth. Alarmed by the +unsettled state of things in Spain, he +was hastening to take refuge in France, +with his handsome wife and his great +wealth—of the latter of which no inconsiderable +portion was contained in +the carriage, in the shape of caskets +of jewellery, diamonds, and other +valuables.</p> + +<p>Repairing to the neighbouring +mountains, the guerillas proceeded to +examine their booty, which the Empecinado +permitted them to divide +among themselves, with the exception +of the carriage and its contents, including +the lady, which he reserved +for his own share.</p> + +<p>On the following day came letters +from the French military governor of +Aranda del Duero, and from Monsieur +Barbot, who had taken refuge in that +town, and offered a large sum as ransom +for his wife. To this application +<a class="pagenum" name="page345" id="page345" title="page345"></a>the Empecinado did not vouchsafe +any answer, but marched off to his +native village of Castrillo, taking with +him jewels, carriage, and lady. The +latter he established in the house of +his brother Manuel, recommending +her to the care of his sister-in-law, +and commanding that she should be +treated with all possible respect, and +her wishes attended to on every point.</p> + +<p>The Empecinado's exultation at +the success of his enterprize was great, +but he little foresaw all the danger +and trouble that his rich capture was +hereafter to occasion him. He had +become violently enamoured of his fair +prisoner, and in order to have leisure +to pay his court to her, he sent off his +partida on a distant expedition under +the command of Fuentes, and himself +remained at Castrillo, doing his utmost +to find favour in the eyes of the +beautiful Madame Barbot. He was then +in the prime of life, a remarkably +handsome man, and notwithstanding +that the French affected to treat him +as a brigand, his courage and patriotism +were admitted by the unprejudiced +among all parties, and his bold +and successful deeds had already +procured him a degree of renown that +was an additional recommendation of +him to the fair sex. It may not, +therefore, be deemed very surprising +that, after the first few days of her +captivity were passed, and she had +become a little used to the novelty of +her position, the lady began to consider +the Empecinado with some +degree of favour, and seemed not altogether +disposed to be inconsolable in +her widowhood. He on his part spared +no pains to please her. His very nature +seemed changed by the violence +of his new passion; and so great was +the metamorphosis that his best friends +scarcely recognized him for the same +man. He seemed totally to have forgotten +the career to which he had devoted +himself, and the hatred and +war of extermination he had vowed +against the French. The restless activity +and spirit of enterprize which +formed such distinguishing traits in +his character, were completely lulled +to sleep by the charms of the fair +Barbot. Nor was the change in his +external appearance less striking. +Aware that the rude manners and +attire of a guerilla were not likely to +please the fastidious taste of a town-bred +dame, he hastened to discard +them. His rough bushy beard and +mustaches were carefully trimmed +and adjusted by the most expert barber +of the neighbourhood; his +sheepskin jacket, heavy boots, and jingling +double-roweled spurs thrown aside, +and in their place he assumed the national +garb, so well adapted to show +off a handsome person, and which, +although now almost disused throughout +Spain, far surpasses in elegance the +prevailing costumes of the nineteenth +century: a short light jacket of black +velvet, and waistcoat of the richest +silk, both profusely decorated with +gold filigree buttons; purple velvet +breeches fastened at the knee with +bunches of ribands; silk stockings, +and falling boots of chamois leather, +by the most expert maker in Cordova; +a crimson silk sash round his waist, +and round his neck a silk handkerchief, +of which the ends were drawn +through a magnificent jewelled ring. +A green velvet cap, ornamented with +sables and silver, and an ample cloak +trimmed with silver lace, the spoil of +a commandant of French gendarmes, +completed this picturesque costume.</p> + +<p>Thus attired, and mounted on a +splendid horse, the Empecinado escorted +the object of his new flame to +all the fêtes and merry-makings of the +surrounding country. Not a <i>romeria</i> +in the neighbouring villages, not a +fair or a bull-fight in all the valley of +the Duero, but were graced by the +presence of Martin Diez and his dulcinea, +whose fine horse and gallant +equipment, but more especially the +beauty of the rider, inspired universal +admiration. As might be expected, +many of those who had known the +Empecinado a poor vine-dresser, became +envious of his good fortune, +and others who envied him not, were +indignant at seeing him waste his +time in such degrading effeminacy, +instead of following up the career +which he had so nobly begun. There +was much murmuring, therefore, to +which, however, he gave little heed; +and several weeks had passed in the +manner above described, when an incident +occurred to rouse him from the +sort of lethargy in which he was sunk.</p> + +<p>A despatch reached him from the +Captain-General, Don Gregorio Cuesta, +requiring his immediate presence +at Ciudad Rodrigo, there to receive +directions concerning the execution +of a service of the greatest importance, +<a class="pagenum" name="page346" id="page346" title="page346"></a>and which was to be intrusted +to him.</p> + +<p>This order had its origin in circumstances +of which the Empecinado was +totally ignorant. The jeweller Barbot, +finding that neither large offers +nor threats of punishment had any +effect upon the Empecinado, who persisted +in keeping his wife prisoner, +made interest with the Duke of Infantado, +then general of one of the +Spanish armies, and besought him to +exert his influence in favour of the +captive lady, and to have her restored +to her friends. The duke, who was +a very important personage at the +court of Charles the Fourth, and the +favourite of Ferdinand the Seventh +at the beginning of his reign, entertained +a particular friendship for Barbot; +and, if the <i>chronique scandaleuse</i> +of Madrid might be believed, a still +more particular one for his wife. He +immediately wrote to General Cuesta, +desiring that the lady might be sent +back to her husband without delay, as +well as all the jewels and other spoil +that had been seized by the Empecinado.</p> + +<p>With much difficulty did the guerilla +make up his mind to abandon +the inglorious position, and to go +where duty called him. Strongly +recommending his captive to his brother +and sister-in-law, he set out for +Ciudad Rodrigo, escorted by a sergeant +and ten men of his partida. +They had not proceeded half a mile +from Castrillo, when, from behind a +hedge bordering the road, a shot was +fired, and the bullet slightly wounded +the Empecinado's charger. Two of +the escort pushed their horses through +the hedge, and immediately returned, +dragging between them a grey-haired +old man, seventy years of age, who +clutched in his wrinkled fingers a +rusty carbine that had just been discharged.</p> + +<p>"He is surely mad!" exclaimed +the Empecinado, gazing in astonishment +at the venerable assassin. "<i>Dime, +viejo</i>; do you know me? And why do +you seek my life?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si, si, te conozes</i>. You are the +Empecinado—the bloody Empecinado. +Give me back my Pedro, +whom you murdered. <i>Ay di me! +mi Pedrillo, te han matado!</i>"</p> + +<p>And the old man's frame quivered +with rage, as he glared on the Empecinado +with an expression of unutterable +hate.</p> + +<p>One of the guerillas stepped forward—</p> + +<p>"'Tis old Gutierrez, the father of +Pedro, who was hung in the Piñares +de Coca, for betraying us to the +French."</p> + +<p>"Throw his carbine into yonder +pool, and leave the poor wretch," said +the Empecinado; "his son deserved +the death he met."</p> + +<p>"He missed his aim to-day, but he +may point truer another time," said +one of the men, half drawing a pistol +from his holster.</p> + +<p>"Harm him not!" said the Empecinado +sternly, and the party rode on.</p> + +<p>"<i>Maldito seas</i>!" screamed the old +man, casting himself in the dust of +the road, in a paroxysm of impotent +fury. "<i>Maldito! Maldito! Ay de +mi! mi Pedrillo!</i>"</p> + +<p>And his curses and lamentations +continued till the guerillas were out +of hearing.</p> + +<p>On arriving at Ciudad Rodrigo, the +Empecinado went immediately to General +Cuesta, who, although he did +not receive him unkindly, could not +but blame him greatly for the enormous +crime he had committed in carrying +off a lady who was distinguished +by so mighty a personage as the Duke +of Infantado. He told him it was absolutely +necessary to devise some plan +by which the Duke's anger might be +appeased. Murat also had sent a message +to the central junta, saying, that +if satisfaction were not given, he +would send troops to lay waste the +whole district of Penafiel, in which +Castrillo was situated; and it was +probable, that if he had not done so +already, it was because a large portion +of the inhabitants of that district were +believed to be well affected to the +French. Without exactly telling him +what he must do, the old general gave +him a despatch for the <i>corregidor</i> of +Penafiel, and desired him to present +himself before that functionary, and +concert with him the measures to be +taken.</p> + +<p>The Empecinado took his leave, +and was quitting the governor's palace +when he overtook at the door an +<i>avogado</i>, who was a countryman of +his, and whom he had left at Castrillo +when he set out from that place. The +sight of this man was a ray of light to +the Empecinado, who immediately suspected +that his enemies were intriguing +against him. He proposed to the +lawyer that they should walk +<a class="pagenum" name="page347" id="page347" title="page347"></a>to the inn, to which the latter consented. +They had to traverse a lonely +place, known by the name of San +Francisco's Meadow, and on arriving +there, behind the shelter of some walls, +the Empecinado seized the advocate +by the collar, and swore he would +strangle him if he did not instantly +confess what business had brought +him to Ciudad Rodrigo, as well as all +the plans or plots against the Empecinado +to which he might be privy.</p> + +<p>The lawyer, who had known Diez +from his childhood, and was fully +aware of his desperate character and +of his own peril, trembled for his life, +and besought him earnestly to use no +violence, for that he was willing to +tell all he knew. Thereupon the Empecinado +loosened his grasp, which +had wellnigh throttled the poor avogado, +and cocking a pistol, as a sort +of warning to the other to tell the +truth, bade him sit down beside him +and proceed with his narrative.</p> + +<p>The lawyer informed him that the +<i>ayuntamiento</i> or corporation of Castrillo, +and those of all the towns and +villages of the district, found themselves +in great trouble on account of +the convoy he had intercepted, and +more particularly of the lady whom +he kept prisoner, and whose friends it +appeared were persons of much influence +with both contending parties, for +that the junta and the French had +alike demanded her liberty; and while +the latter were about to send troops +to put the whole country to fire and +sword, the former, as well as the Spanish +generals, had refused to afford +them any protection against the consequences +of her detention, and accused +the ayuntamiento and the priests +of encouraging the Empecinado to +hold her in captivity. He himself +had been sent to Ciudad Rodrigo to +beg General Cuesta's advice, and the +general had declared himself unable +to assist them, but recommended them +to restore the lady and treasure, if they +did not wish the French to lay waste +the country, and take by force the +bone of contention.</p> + +<p>The Empecinado, suspecting that +General Cuesta had not used all due +frankness with him in this matter, +handed to the lawyer the letter that +had been given him for the corregidor +of Penafiel, and compelled him, much +against his will, to open and read it. +Its contents coincided with what the +avogado had told him; the general +advising the corregidor to use every +means to compromise the matter, rather +than wait till the French should +do themselves justice by the strong +hand.</p> + +<p>Perceiving that, from various motives, +every body was against him in +this matter, the Empecinado bethought +himself how he should get out of the +scrape.</p> + +<p>"As an old friend and countryman, +and more especially as a lawyer," +said he to the avogado, "you are the +most fitting man to give me advice in +this difficulty. Tell me, then, what I +ought to do, in order that our native +town, which is innocent in the matter, +should suffer no prejudice."</p> + +<p>"You speak now like a sensible +man," replied the other, "and as a +friend will I advise you. Let us immediately +set off to Penafiel, deliver +the general's letter to the corregidor, +and take him with us to Castrillo. +There, for form's sake, an examination +of your conduct in the affair can +take place. You shall give up the +jewels, the carriage, and the lady, and +set off immediately to join your partida."</p> + +<p>"To the greater part of that I willingly +agree," said the Empecinado. +"The jewels are buried in the cellar, +and the carriage is in the stable. +Take both when you list. But as to +the lady, before I give her up, I will +give up my own soul. She is my +property; I took her in fair fight, +and at the risk of my life."</p> + +<p>"You will think better of it before +we get to Castrillo," replied the lawyer.</p> + +<p>The Empecinado shook his head, +but led the way to the inn, where they +took horse, and the next day reached +Penafiel, whence they set out the following +morning for Castrillo, which is +a couple of leagues further, accompanied +by the corregidor, his secretary, +and two alguazils. The Empecinado +was induced to leave his escort at +Penafiel, in order that the sort of <i>pro +formâ</i> investigation which was to be +gone through might not appear to have +taken place under circumstances of +intimidation. The avogado started a +couple of hours earlier than the rest +of the party, to have things in readiness, +so that the proceedings might be +got through as rapidly as possible.</p> + +<p>It was about eight o'clock on a fine +summer's morning that the Empecinado +<a class="pagenum" name="page348" id="page348" title="page348"></a>and his companions reached Castrillo. +As they entered the town, an +old mendicant, who was lying curled +up like a dog in the sunshine under +the porch of a house, lifted his head +at the noise of the horses. As his +eyes rested upon Diez, he made a +bound forward with an agility extraordinary +in one of his years, and fell +almost under the feet of the Empecinado's +horse, making the startled animal +spring aside with a violence and +suddenness sufficient to unhorse many +a less practised rider than the one who +bestrode him. The Empecinado lifted +his whip in anger, but the old man, +who had risen to his feet, showed no +sign of fear, and as he stood in the +middle of the road, and immediately +in the path of the Empecinado, the +latter recognized the wild features and +long grey hair of old Gutierrez.</p> + +<p>"<i>Maldito seas</i>!" cried the old man, +extending his arms towards the guerilla. +"Murderer! the hour of vengeance +is nigh. I saw it in my dreams. +My Pedrillo showed me his assassin +trampled under the feet of horses. +<i>Asesino! Venga la hora de tu +muerte!</i>"</p> + +<p>And the old man, who was half +crazed by his misfortunes, relapsed +into an incoherent strain of lamentations +for his son, and curses upon him +whom he called his murderer.</p> + +<p>The Empecinado, who, on recognizing +old Gutierrez, had lowered his +riding-whip, and listened unmoved to +his curses and predictions, rode forward, +explaining as he went, to the +astonished corregidor, the scene that +had just occurred. A little further on +he separated from his companions, +giving them rendezvous at ten o'clock +at the house of the ayuntamiento. +Proceeding to his brother's dwelling, +he paid a visit to Madame Barbot, +breakfasted with her, and then prepared +to keep his appointment. He +placed a brace of pistols and a poniard +in his belt, and taking a loaded <i>trabuco</i> +or blunderbuss, in his hand, +wrapped himself in his cloak so as to +conceal his weapons, and repaired to +the town-hall.</p> + +<p>He found the tribunal already installed, +and every thing in readiness. +Saluting the corregidor, he began pacing +up and down the room without +taking off his cloak. The corregidor +repeatedly urged him to be seated, but +he refused, and continued his walk, +replying to the questions that were +put to him, his answers to which were +duly written down. About a quarter of +an hour had passed in this manner, when +a noise of feet and talking was heard +in the street, and the Empecinado, as +he passed one of the windows that +looked out upon the <i>plaza</i>, saw, with +no very comfortable feelings, that a +number of armed peasants were entering +the town hall. He perceived +that he was betrayed, but his presence +of mind stood his friend, and with his +usual promptitude, he in a moment +decided how he should act. Without +allowing it to appear that he had any +suspicion of what was going on, he +walked to the door of the audience +chamber, and before any one could interfere, +shut and locked it. Then +stepping up to the corregidor, he +threw off his cloak, and presented his +trabuco at the magistrate's head.</p> + +<p>"Señor Corregidor," said he, "this +is not our agreement, but a base act +of treachery. Commend yourself to +God, for you are about to die."</p> + +<p>The corregidor was so dreadfully +terrified at these words, and at the +menacing action of the Empecinado, +that he swooned away, and fell down +under the table—the escribano fled +into an adjoining chamber, and concealed +himself under a bed—while the +alguazils, trembling with fear, threw +themselves upon their knees, and petitioned +for mercy. The Empecinado, +finding himself with so little trouble +master of the field of battle, took possession +of the papers that were lying +upon the table, and, unlocking the +door, proceeded to the principal staircase, +which he found occupied by +inhabitants of the town, armed with +muskets and fowling-pieces. Placing +his blunderbuss under his arm, with +his hand upon the trigger, "Make +way!" cried he; "the first who +moves a finger may reckon upon the +contents of my trabuco." His menace +and resolute character produced the +desired effect; a passage was opened, +and he left the house in triumph. On +reaching the street, however, he found +a great crowd of men, women, and +even children, assembled, who occupied +the plaza and all the adjacent +streets, and received him with loud +cries of "Death to the Empecinado! +<i>Muera el ladron y mal Cristiano</i>!" +The armed men whom he had left in +the town-house fired several shots at +<a class="pagenum" name="page349" id="page349" title="page349"></a>him from the windows, but nobody +dared to lay hands upon him, as he +marched slowly and steadily through +the crowd, trabuco in hand, and casting +glances on either side that made +those upon whom they fell shrink involuntarily +backwards.</p> + +<p>On the low roof of one of the houses +of the plaza, that formed the angle +of the Calle de la Cruz, or street of the +cross, old Gutierrez had taken his station. +With the fire of insanity in his +bloodshot eyes, and a grin of exultation +upon his wasted features, he witnessed +the persecution of the Empecinado, +and while his ears drank in the +yells and hootings of the multitude, +he added his shrill cracked voice to +the uproar. When the shots were +fired from the town-hall, he bounded +and capered upon the platform, clapping +his meagre fingers together in +ecstasy; but as the Empecinado got +further from the house, and the firing +was discontinued, an expression of +anxiety replaced the look of triumph +that had lighted up the old maniac's +face. Diez still moved on unhurt, +and was now within a few paces of +the house on which Gutierrez had +perched himself. The old man's uneasiness +increased. "Va a escapar!" +muttered he to himself; "they will +let him escape. Oh, if I had a gun, +my Pedrillo would soon be avenged!"</p> + +<p>The Empecinado was passing under +the house. A sudden thought struck +Gutierrez. Stamping with his foot, +he broke two or three of the tiles on +which he was standing, and snatching +up a large heavy fragment, he leaned +over the edge of the roof to get a full +view of the Empecinado, who was at +that moment leaving the plaza and +entering the Calle de la Cruz. In +five seconds more he would be out of +sight. As it was, it was only by leaning +very far forward that Gutierrez +could see him, walking calmly along, +and keeping at bay the angry but +cowardly mob that yelped at his heels, +like a parcel of village curs pursuing +a bloodhound, whose look alone prevents +their too near approach.</p> + +<p>Throwing his left arm round a +chimney, the old man swung himself +forward, and with all the force that +he possessed, hurled the tile at the +object of his hate. The missile struck +the Empecinado upon the temple, and +he fell, stunned and bleeding, to the +ground.</p> + +<p>"<i>Viva</i>!" screamed Gutierrez; but +a cry of agony followed the shout of +exultation. The chimney by which +the old man supported himself was +loose and crumbling, and totally unfit +to bear his weight as he hung on by +it, and leaned forward to gloat over +his vengeance. It tottered for a moment, +and then fell with a crash into +the street. The height was not great, +but the pavement was sharp and uneven; +the old man pitched upon his +head, and when lifted up was already +a corpse.</p> + +<p>When the mob saw the Empecinado +fall, they threw themselves upon him +with as much ferocity as they had +previously shown cowardice, and beat +and ill-treated him in every possible +manner. Not satisfied with that, they +bound him hand and foot, and pushed +him through a cellar window, throwing +after him stones, and every thing +they could find lying about the street. +At last, wearied by their own brutality, +they left him for dead, and he +remained in that state till nightfall, +when the corregidor and the ayuntamiento +proceeded to inspect his body, +in order to certify his death, and have +him buried. When he was brought +out of the cellar, however, they perceived +he still breathed, and sent for +a surgeon, and also for a priest to administer +the last sacraments. They +then carried him upon a ladder to the +<i>posito</i>, or public granary, a strong +building, where they considered he +would be in safety, and put him to +bed, bathed in blood and covered with +wounds and bruises.</p> + +<p>The corregidor, fearing that the +news of the riot, and of the death of +the Empecinado, would reach Penafiel, +and that the escort which had been +left there, and the many partizans that +Diez had in that town, would come +over to Castrillo to avenge his death, +persuaded one of the curés or parish +priests of the latter place, to go over to +Penafiel in all haste, and, counterfeiting +great alarm, to spread the report +that the French had entered Castrillo, +seized the Empecinado, and carried +him off to Aranda. This was accordingly +done; and the Empecinado's escort +being made aware of the vicinity +of the French and the risk they ran, +immediately mounted their horses and +marched to join Mariano Fuentes, accompanied +by upwards of fifty young +men, all partizans of the Empecinado, +<a class="pagenum" name="page350" id="page350" title="page350"></a>and eager to revenge him. This matter +being arranged, the corregidor had +the jewels that were buried in the +cellar of Manuel Diez dug up, and +having taken possession of them, and +installed Madame Barbot with all due +attention in one of the principal houses +of the town, he forwarded a report to +General Cuesta of all that had occurred. +The general immediately sent +an escort to conduct the lady and the +treasure to Ciudad Rodrigo, and ordered +that as soon as the Empecinado +was in a state to be moved, he should +also be sent under a strong guard to +that city.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the Empecinado's vigorous +constitution triumphed over the +injuries he had received, and he was +getting so rapidly better, that for his +safer custody the corregidor thought +it necessary to have him heavily ironed. +Deeming it impossible he should escape, +and there being no troops in the +village, no sentry was placed over him, +so that at night his friends were able +to hold discourse with him through the +grating of one of the windows of the +posito. In this manner he contrived +to send a message to his brother +Manuel, who, having also got into +trouble on account of Madame Barbot's +detention, had been compelled to +take refuge in the mountains of Bilbuena, +three leagues from Castrillo. +Manuel took advantage of a dark night +to steal into the town in disguise, and +to speak with the Empecinado. He +informed him that the superior of the +Bernardine Monastery, in the Sierra +de Balbuena, had been advised that it +was the intention of the Empecinado's +enemies to deliver him over to the +French, in order that they might shoot +him. The Empecinado replied, that +he strongly suspected there was some +such plot in agitation, and desired his +brother to seek out Mariano Fuentes, +and order him to march his band into +the neighbourhood of Castrillo, and +that on their arrival he would send +them word what to do.</p> + +<p>Eight days elapsed, and the Empecinado +was now completely cured +of his wounds, so that he was in much +apprehension lest he should be sent off +to Ciudad Rodrio before the arrival +of Fuentes. On the eighth night, +however, his brother came to the window, +and informed him that the partida +was in the neighbourhood, and +only waited his orders to march upon +Castrillo, rescue him, and revenge the +treatment he had received. This the +Empecinado strongly enjoined them +not to do, but desired his brother to +come to his prison door at two o'clock +the next morning with a led horse, and +that he had the means to set himself +at liberty. Manuel Diez did as he was +ordered, wondering, however, in what +manner the Empecinado intended to +get out of the posito, which was a +solidly constructed edifice with a massive +door and grated windows. But +the next night, when the guerilla heard +the horses approaching his prison, he +seized the door by an iron bar that +traversed it on the inner side, and, +exerting his prodigious strength, tore +it off the hinges as though it had been +of pasteboard. His feet being fastened +together by a chain, he was compelled +to sit sideways upon the saddle; but +so elated was he to find himself once +more at liberty that he pushed his +horse into a gallop, and with his fetters +clanking as he went, dashed +through the streets of Castrillo, to the +astonishment and consternation of the +inhabitants, who knew not what devil's +dance was going on in their usually +quiet town.</p> + +<p>At Olmos, a village a quarter of +a league from Castrillo, the fugitives +halted, and roused a smith, who +knocked off the Empecinado's irons. +After a short rest at the house of an +approved friend they remounted their +horses, and a little after daybreak +reached the place where Fuentes had +taken up his bivouac. The Empecinado +was received with great rejoicing, +and immediately resumed the +command. He passed a review of his +band, and found it consisted of two +hundred and twenty men, all well +mounted and armed.</p> + +<p>Great was the alarm of the inhabitants +of Castrillo when they found the +prison broken open and the prisoner +gone; and their terror was increased +a hundred-fold, when a few hours +later news was brought that the Empecinado +was marching towards the +town at the head of a strong body of +cavalry. Some concealed themselves +in cellars and suchlike hiding-places, +others left the town and fled to the +neighbouring woods; but the majority, +despairing of escape by human means +from the terrible anger of the Empecinado, +shut themselves up in their +houses, closed the doors and windows, +<a class="pagenum" name="page351" id="page351" title="page351"></a>and prayed to the Virgin for deliverance +from the impending evil. Never +had there been seen in Castrillo such +a counting of rosaries and beating of +breasts, such genuflexions, and mumbling +of aves and paters, as upon that +morning.</p> + +<p>At noon the Empecinado entered +the town at the head of his band, +trumpets sounding, and the men firing +their pistols and carbines into the air, +in sign of joy at having recovered +their leader. Forming up the partida +in the market-place, the Empecinado +sent for the corregidor and other +authorities, who presented themselves +before him pale and trembling, and +fully believing they had not five minutes +to live.</p> + +<p>"Fear nothing!" said the Empecinado, +observing their terror. "It +is certain I have met foul treatment +at your hands; and it was the harder +to bear coming from my own countrymen +and townsfolk. But you have +been misled, and will one day repent +your conduct. I have forgotten your +ill usage, and only remember the +poverty of my native town, and the +misery in which this war has plunged +many of its inhabitants."</p> + +<p>So saying, he delivered to the alcalde +and the parish priests a hundred +ounces of gold for the relief of the +poor and support of the hospital, and +ten more to be spent in a <i>novillada</i>, or +bull-bait and festival for the whole +town. Cutting short their thanks +and excuses, he left Castrillo and +marched to the village of Sacramenia, +where he quartered his men, and, accompanied +by Mariano Fuentes, went +to pay a visit to a neighbouring monastery. +The monks received him +with open arms and a hearty welcome, +hailing him as the main prop +of the cause of independence in Old +Castile. They sat down to dinner in +the refectory; and the conversation +turning upon the state of the country, +the Empecinado expressed his unwillingness +to carry on the war in that +province, on account of the little confidence +he could place in the inhabitants, +so many of whom had become +<i>afrancesados</i>; and as a proof of this, +he related all that had occurred to him +at Castrillo. Upon hearing this the +abbot, who was a man distinguished +for his talents and patriotism, recommended +Diez to lead his band to New +Castile, where he would not have to +encounter the persecutions of those +who, having known him poor and insignificant, +envied him his good fortune, +and sought to throw obstacles in +his path. He offered to get him letters +from the general of the order of +San Bernardo to the superiors of the +various monasteries, in order that he +might receive such assistance and +support as they could give, and he +might chance to require.</p> + +<p>"No one is a prophet in his own +country," said the good father; "Mahomet +in his native town of Medina +met with the same ill-treatment that +you, Martin Diez, have encountered +in the place of your birth. Abandon, +then, a province which does not recognize +your value, and go where your +reputation has already preceded you, +to defend the holy cause of Spain and +of religion."</p> + +<p>Struck by the justice of this reasoning, +the Empecinado resolved to +change the scene of his operations, +and the next morning marched his +squadron in the direction of New +Castile.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<a name="bw329s6" id="bw329s6"></a> +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="page352" id="page352" title="page352"></a>THE TALE OF A TUB: AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER.</h2> + +<h3>HOW JACK RAN MAD A SECOND TIME.</h3> + +<p>After Jack and Martin parted company, +you may remember that Jack, +who had turned his face northward, +got into high favour with the landlord +of the North Farm Estate, who, being +mightily edified with his discourses +and sanctimonious demeanour, and +not aware of his having been mad +before, or being, perchance, just +as mad himself—took him in, made +much of him, gave him a cottage +upon his manor to live in, and built +him a tabernacle in which he might +hold forth when the spirit moved him. +In process of time, however, it happened +that North Farm and the Albion +Estates came into the possession of one +proprietor, Esquire Bull, in whose +house Martin had always been retained +as domestic chaplain—at least, +ever since that desperate scuffle with +Lord Peter and his crew, when he +tried to land some Spanish smugglers +on the coast, for the purpose of carrying +off Martin, and establishing himself +in Squire Bull's house in his stead. +Squire Bull, who was a man of his +word, and wished to leave all things +on North Farm as he found them, +Jack and his tabernacle included, undertook +at once to pay him a reasonable +salary, with the free use of his +house and tabernacle to him and his +heirs for ever. But knowing that on +a previous occasion, (which you may +recollect,<a name="footnotetag46" id="footnotetag46"></a><a href="#footnote46"><sup>46</sup></a>) Jack's melancholy had gone +so far that he had hanged himself, +though he was cut down just before +giving up the ghost, and by dint of +bloodletting and galvanism, had been +revived; and also that, notwithstanding +his periodical fits and hallucinations, +he could beat even Peter himself, +who had been his instructor, for +cunning and casuistry, he took care that, +before Jack was allowed to take possession +under his new lease, every thing +should be made square between them. +So he had the terms of their indenture +all written out on parchment, signed, +sealed, and delivered before witnesses, +and even got a private Act of Parliament +carried through, for the purpose +of making every thing between them +more secure. And well it was for the +Squire that he bethought himself of his +precaution in time, as you will afterwards +hear.</p> + +<p>This union of the two entailed +properties in the Bull family, brought +Jack and Martin a good deal more +into one anothers' company than they +had formerly been; and 'twas clear, +that Jack, who had now got somewhat +ashamed of his threadbare raiment, +and tired of his spare oatmeal diet, +was mightily struck with the dignified +air and comfortable look of Martin, +and grudged him the frequency with +which he was invited to Squire Bull's +table. By degrees, he began to conform +his own uncouth manner to an +imitation of his. He wore a better +coat, which he no longer rubbed +against the wall to take the gloss from +off it; he ceased to interlard all his +ordinary speech with texts of Scripture; +his snuffle abated audibly; he +gave up his habit of extempore rhapsody, +and lost, in a great measure, +his aversion to Christmas tarts and +plum-pudding. After a time, he might +even be seen with a fishing-rod over +his shoulder; then he contrived sundry +improvements in gun-locks and double-barrels, +for which he took out a patent, +and in fact did not entirely escape the +suspicion of being a poacher. He +held assemblies in his house, where at +times he allowed a little singing; nay, +on one occasion, a son of his—for he +had now a large family—was found +accompanying a psalm-tune upon the +(barrel) organ, and it was rumoured +about the house, that Jack, though he +thought it prudent to disclaim this +overture, had no great objection to +it. Be that as it may, it is certain, +that instead of his old peaked hat and +band, Jack latterly took to wearing +broad-brimmed beavers, which he was +seen trying to mould into a spout-like +shape, much resembling a shovel. And +so far had the transformation gone, that +the Vicar of Fudley, meeting him one +evening walking to an assembly arrayed +<a class="pagenum" name="page353" id="page353" title="page353"></a>in a court coat, with this extraordinary +hat upon his head, and a pair +of silver buckles in his shoes, pulled +off his hat to him at a little distance, +mistaking him for a near relation of +Martin, if not for Martin himself.</p> + +<p>There was no great harm you will +think in all these whims, and for my +own part, I believe that Jack was never +so honest a fellow as he was during this +time, when he was profiting by Martin's +example. He kept his own place, +ruling his family in a quiet and orderly +way, without disturbing the peace of +his neighbours: and seemed to have +forgotten his old tricks of setting people +by the ears, and picking quarrels with +constables and justices of the peace. +Howbeit, those who knew him longest +and best, always said that this was too +good to last: that with him these intervals +of sobriety and moderation +were always the prelude to a violent +access of his peculiar malady, and +that by-and-bye he would break out +again, and that there would be the +devil to pay, and no pitch hot.</p> + +<p>It so happened that Squire Bull had +a good many small village schools on +his Estate of North Farm, to which the +former proprietors had always been in +the custom of appointing the ushers +themselves; and much to Jack's annoyance, +when Squire Bull succeeded, the +latter had taken care in his bargain with +him, to keep the right of appointment +to these in his own hand. But, at the +same time, he told Jack fairly, that as +he had no wish to dabble in Latin, +Greek, or school learning himself, he +left him at full liberty to say whether +those whom he appointed were fit for +the situation or not—so that if they +turned out to be ignoramuses, deboshed +fellows, or drunken dogs, Jack +had only to say so on good grounds, +and they were forthwith sent adrift. +Matters went on for a time very +smoothly on this footing. Nay, it was +even said that Jack was inclined to +carry his complaisance rather far, and +after a time seldom troubled himself +much about the usher's qualifications, +provided his credentials were all right. +He might ask the young fellow, who +presented John's commission, perhaps, +what was the first letter of the +Greek alphabet? what was Latin for +beef and greens? or where Moses was +when the candle was blown out?—but +if the candidate answered these questions +correctly, and if there were no +scandal or <i>fama clamosa</i> against him, +as Jack in his peculiar jargon expressed +it, he generally shook hands with him +at once, put the key of the schoolhouse +in his hand, and told him civilly +to walk up-stairs.</p> + +<p>The truth was, however, that in +this respect Jack had little reason to +complain; for though the Squire, in the +outset, may not have been very particular +as to his choice, and it was said +once or twice gave an ushership to an +old exciseman, on account of his skill +in mensuration of fluids, he had latterly +become very particular, and +would not hear of settling any body +as schoolmaster on North Farm, +who did not come to him with an +excellent character, certified by two +or three respectable householders at +least. But, strangely enough, it was +observed that just in proportion as the +Squire became more considerate, Jack +became more arrogant, pestilent, and +troublesome. Now-a-days he was always +discovering some objection to the +Squire's appointments: one usher, it +seemed, spoke too low, another too loud, +one used an ear-trumpet, another a pair +of grass-green spectacles; one had +no sufficient gifts for flogging; another +flogged either too high or too +low—(for Jack was like the deserter, +there was no pleasing him as to the +mode of conducting the operation;) +and, finally, another was rejected because +he was unacquainted with the +vernacular of Ossian—to the great +injury and damage, as was alleged, of +two Highland chairmen, who at an +advanced period of life were completing +their education in the school in +question. At first Squire Bull, honest +gentleman, had given in to these +strange humours on the part of Jack, +believing that this new-born zeal on +his part was in the main conscientious, +though he could not help thinking it +at times sufficiently whimsical and preposterous. +He had even gone so far, +occasionally, as to send Jack a list of +those to whom he proposed giving +the usherships, accompanied with a +polite note, in some such terms as +these, "Squire Bull presents his respects, +and begs his good friend Jack +will read over the enclosed list, and +take the trouble of choosing for himself;" +a request with which Jack was +always ready to comply. And, further, +as Jack had always a great hankering +after little-goes and penny subscriptions +<a class="pagenum" name="page354" id="page354" title="page354"></a>of every kind, and was eternally +trumpeting forth some new nostrum +or <i>scheme</i> of this kind, as he used to +call it, the Squire had been prevailed +upon to purchase from him a good +many tickets for these schemes from +time to time, for which he always +paid in hard cash, though I have never +heard that any of them turned up +prizes, except it may have been to +Jack himself.</p> + +<p>Jack, as we have said, grew bolder +as the Squire became more complying, +thinking that, in the matter of +these appointments, as he had once +got his hand in, it would be his own +fault if he could not contrive to +wriggle in his whole body. It so happened, +too, that just about the very +time that one of John's usherships became +vacant, one of those atrabilious +and hypochondriac fits came over Jack, +with which, as we have said, he was periodically +afflicted, and which, though +they certainly unsettled his brain a +little, only served, as in the case of +other lunatics, to render him, during +the paroxysm, more cunning, inventive, +and mischievous. After +moving about in a moping way for +a day or two—mumbling in corners, +and pretending to fall on his knees, +in his old fashion, in the midst of +the street, he suddenly got up, flung +his broad-brimmed beaver into the +kennel, trampled his wig in the dirt, +so as to expose his large ears as +of old, ran home, pulled his rusty +black doublet out of the chest where it +had lain for years, squeezing it on as +he best could—for he had got somewhat +corpulent in the mean time—and +thus transfigured, he set out to consult +the village attorney, with whom +it was observed he remained closeted +for several hours, turning over Burns' +Justice, and perusing an office-copy +of his indenture with the Squire—a +planetary conjunction from which +those who were astrologically given +boded no good.</p> + +<p>What passed between these worthies +on this occasion—whether the +attorney really persuaded Jack that, +if he set about it, he would undertake +to find him a flaw in his contract with +Squire Bull, which would enable him +to take the matter of the usherships +into his own hand, and to do as he +pleased; or whether Jack—as he +seemed afterwards to admit in private—believed +nothing of what the attorney +told him, but was resolved to take +advantage of the Squire's good-nature, +and to run all risks as to the result, 'tis +hard to say. Certain it was, however, +that Jack posted down at once from +the attorney's chamber to the village +school, which happened to be then +vacant, and gathering the elder boys +about him, he told them he had reason +to believe the Squire was about to +send them another usher, very different +from the last, who was a mortal +enemy to marbles, pitch-and-toss, +chuck-farthing, ginger-bread, and +half holydays; with a corresponding +liking to long tasks and short commons; +that the use of the cane would +be regularly taught, along with that of +the globes, accompanied with cuts and +other practical demonstrations; that +the only chance of escaping this visitation +was to take a bold line, and +show face to the usher at once, since +otherwise the chance was, that at no +distant period they might be obliged +to do the very reverse.</p> + +<p>Jack further reasoned the matter with +the boys learnedly, somewhat in this +fashion—"That as no one could have +so strong an interest in the matter, so +no one could be so good a judge of +the qualifications of the schoolmaster +as the schoolboy; that the close and +intimate relation between these parties +was of the nature of a mutual contract, +in the formation of which both had an +equal right to be consulted; so that, +without mutual consent, or, as it +were, a harmonious call by the boys, +there could be no valid ushership, but +a mere usurpation of the power of the +tawse, and unwarrantable administration +of the birchen twig; that, further, +this latter power involved a +fundamental feature, in which they +could not but feel they had all a deep +interest—and which, he might say, +lay at the bottom of the whole question; +that he himself perfectly remembered +that, in former days, the schoolboys +had always exercised this privilege, +which he held to be equally +salutary and constitutional; and that +he would, at his leisure, show them a +private memorandum-book of his own, +in which, though he had hitherto said +nothing about it, he had found an entry +to that effect made some thirty years +before. In short, he told them, if +they did not wish to be rode over +rough-shod, they must stand up boldly +for themselves, and try to get all the +<a class="pagenum" name="page355" id="page355" title="page355"></a>schools in the neighbourhood to join +them, if necessary, in a regular barring-out, +or general procession, in +which they were to appear with flags +and banners, bearing such inscriptions +as the following: "<i>Pro aris et focis</i>"—"Liberty +is like the air we breathe," +&c. &c., and, lastly, in large gilt +capitals—"<i>No usher to be intruded into +any school contrary to the will of the +scholars in schoolroom assembled</i>." And, +in short, that this process was to be +repeated until they succeeded in getting +quit of Squire Bull's usher, and +getting an usher who would flog them +with all the forbearance and reserve +with which Sancho chastised his own +flesh while engaged in the process of +disenchanting Dulcinea del Toboso. +At the same time, with that cunning +which was natural to him, Jack took +care to let the scholars know that +<i>his</i> name was not to be mentioned in +the transaction; and that, if they +were asked any questions, they must +be prepared to say, nay, to swear, for +that matter, that they objected to +John's usher from no personal dislike +to the man himself, and without having +received fee or reward, in the shape of +apples, lollypops, gingerbread, barley-sugar, +or sweetmeats whatever—or +sixpences, groats, pence, halfpence, or +other current coin of the realm.</p> + +<p>It will be readily imagined that this +oration of Jack, pronounced as it was +with some of his old unction, and accompanied +with that miraculous and +subtle twist of the tongue which +we have described in a former chapter,<a name="footnotetag47" id="footnotetag47"></a><a href="#footnote47"><sup>47</sup></a> +produced exactly the effect upon +his audience which might be expected. +The boys were delighted—tossed up +their caps—gave Jack three cheers, +and told him if he stood by them they +would stand by him, and that they +were much mistaken if they did not +contrive to make the schoolhouse too +hot for any usher whom Squire Bull +might think fit to send them.</p> + +<p>It happened not long after, as Jack +had anticipated, that one morning a +young man called upon with a letter +from the Squire, intimating that he +had named him to the vacant ushership; +and requesting Jack to examine +into his qualifications as usual. Jack +begged him to be seated, and (having +privately sent a message to the schoolboys) +continued to entertain him with +enquiries as to John's health and the +state of the weather, till he heard, by +the noise in the court, that the boys +had arrived. In they marched accordingly, +armed with horn-books, +primers, slates, rulers, Gunter's-scales, +and copy-books, taking up their station +near the writing-desk. The young +usher-elect, though he thought this a +whimsical exhibition, supposed that +the urchins had been brought there +only to do honour to his examination, +and accordingly begged Jack, as he +was in a hurry, to proceed. "Fair and +softly, young man," said Jack, in his +blandest tones; "we must first see what +these intelligent young gentlemen +have got to say to that. Tom, my +fine fellow, here is a gentleman sent +by Squire Bull to be your usher. +What do you say to him?" "I don't +like him," said Tom. "May I venture +to ask why?" said the usher, +putting in a word. "Don't like him," +repeated Tom. "Don't like him neither," +said Dick. "And no mistake," +added Peter, with a grin, which immediately +circulated round the school. +"It is quite impossible," said Jack, +"under existing circumstances, that the +matter can proceed any further; it is +plain the school can never be edified +by such an usher. But, stop, that +there may be no misconception on the +subject. Here you, Smith—do you +really mean to say, on soul and conscience, +you don't think this respectable +gentleman can do you any good?" +Of course, Smith stated that his mind +was quite made up on the subject. +"Come here, Jenkins," said Jack, +beckoning to another boy; "tell the +truth now—honour bright, remember. +Has any body given or promised you +any apples, parliament, or other +sweetmeat unknown, to induce you to +vote against the usher?" Jenkins, +who had just wiped his lips of the last +remains of a gingerbread cake, which +somehow or other had dropped into +his pocket by accident, protested, on +his honour, that he was quite above +such a thing, and was, in fact, actuated +purely by a conscientious zeal for +the cause of flogging all over the +world. "The scruples of these intelligent +and ingenuous youths," said +John, turning to the usher, "must, +<a class="pagenum" name="page356" id="page356" title="page356"></a>in conscience, receive effect; the law, +as laid down in my copy of Squire +Bull's own contract, is this—'That +noe ushere be yntruded intoe anie +schoole against ye wille of ye schooleboys +in schoole-roome assembled.' +So, with your permission, we will adjourn +the consideration of the case +till the Greek Calends, or latter Lammas, +if that be more convenient." And, +so saying, he left John's letter lying on +the table, and shut the schoolroom +door in the face of the astonished usher.</p> + +<p>Squire Bull, as may be imagined, +was not a little astonished and mortified +at hearing from the usher, who +returned looking foolish and chop-fallen, +of this outbreak on the part of +Jack, for whom he had really begun +to conceive a sort of sneaking kindness; +but knowing of old his fantastical +and melancholic turn, he attributed +this sally rather to the state of his +bowels, which at all times he exceedingly +neglected, and which, being +puffed up with flatulency and indigestion +to an extraordinary degree, not +unfrequently acted upon his brain—generating +therein strange conceits +and dangerous hallucinations—than +to any settled intention on Jack's part +to pick a quarrel with him or evade +performance of the conditions of their +indenture, so long as he was not under +the influence of hypochondria. And +having this notion as to Jack's motives, +and knowing nothing of the +private confab at the village lawyer's, +he could not help believing that, by a +brisk course of purgatives and an antiphlogistic +treatment—and without +resorting to a strait-waistcoat, which +many who knew Jack's pranks at once +recommended him to adopt—he might +be cured of those acrid and intoxicating +vapours, which, ascending into +the brain, led him into such extravagant +vagaries. "I'faith," said the +Squire, "since the poor man has +taken this mad fancy into his head +as to the terms of his bargain, the +best way to restore him to his senses +is to bring the matter, as he himself +seemed to desire it, before the Justices +of the Peace at once: 'Tis a hundred +to one but he will have come +to his senses long before they have +come to a decision; at all events, +unless he is madder than I take him +to be, when he finds how plain the +terms of the indenture are, he will +surely submit with a good grace.'"</p> + +<p>So thought the Squire; and, accordingly, +by his direction, the usher-elect +brought his case before the Justices at +their next sittings, who forthwith summoned +Jack before them to know why +he refused performance of his contract +with the Squire. Jack came on the +day appointed, attended by the attorney—though +for that matter he might +have safely left him behind, being +fully as much master of all equivocation +or chicanery as if he had never +handled anything but quills and quirks +from his youth upward. This, indeed, +was probably the effect of his old +training in Peter's family, for whose +hairsplitting distinctions and Jesuistical +casuistries, notwithstanding his +dislike to the man himself, he had a +certain admiration, founded on a secret +affinity of nature. Indeed it was +wonderful to observe how, with all +Jack's hatred to Peter, real or pretended, +he took after him in so many +points—insomuch that at times, their +look, voice, manner, and way of thinking, +were so closely alike, that those +who knew them best might very well +have mistaken them for each other. +The usher having produced the Squire's +copy of the indenture, pointed out the +clause by which Jack became bound +to examine and admit to the schools +on North Farm any qualified usher +whom the Squire might send—as the +condition on which he was to retain +his right to the tabernacle and his +own mansion upon the Farm—at the +same time showing Jack's seal and +signature at the bottom of the deed. +Jack, being called upon by the justices +to show cause, pulled out of his +pocket an old memorandum-book—very +greasy, musty, and ill-flavoured—and +which, from the quantity of dust +and cobwebs with which it was overlaid, +had obviously been lying on the +shelf for half a century at least. This +he placed in the hands of his friend +Snacks the attorney, pointing out to +him a page or two which he had +marked with his thumb nail, as appropriate +to the matter in hand. And +there, to be sure, was to be found, +among a quantity of other nostrums, +recipes, cooking receipts, prescriptions, +and omnium-gatherums of all +kinds, an entry to this effect:—"That +no ushere be yntruded intoe anie +schoole against ye wille of ye schooleboys +in schoole-roome assembled." +Whereupon the attorney maintained, +<a class="pagenum" name="page357" id="page357" title="page357"></a>that, as this memorandum-book of +Jack's was plainly of older date than +the indenture, and had evidently been +seen by the Squire at or prior to the +time of signing, as appeared from some +of the entries which it contained being +incorporated in the deed, it must +be presumed, that its whole contents, +though not to be found in the +indenture <i>per expressum</i>, or <i>totidem +verbis</i>, were yet included therein <i>implicitly</i>, +or in a latent form, inasmuch +as they were not <i>per expressum</i> excluded +therefrom;—this being, as you +will recollect, precisely the argument +which Jack had borrowed from Peter, +when the latter construed their father's +will in the question as to the +lawfulness of their wearing shoulder-knots; +and very much of the same +kind with that celebrated thesis which +Peter afterwards maintained in the +matter of the brown loaf. And though +he was obliged to admit (what indeed +from the very look of the book he +could not well dispute) that no such +rule had ever been known or acted +upon—and on the contrary that Jack, +until this last occasion, had always +admitted the Squire's ushers without +objection whatsoever; yet he contended +vehemently, that now that his +conscience was awakened on the subject, +the past must be laid out of view; +and that the old memorandum-book, +as part and parcel of the indenture +itself, must receive effect; and farther, +that whether he, Jack, was right +or wrong in this matter, the Justices +had no right to interfere with them.</p> + +<p>But the Justices, on looking into this +antiquated document, found that, besides +this notandum, the memorandum-book +contained a number of other entries +of a very extraordinary kind—such, +for instance, as that Martin was +no better than he should be, and ought +to be put down speedily: that Squire +Bull had no more right to nominate +ushers than he had to be Khan of Tartary: +that that right belonged exclusively +to Jack himself, or to the schoolboys +under Jack's control and direction: +that Jack was to have the sole +right of laying down rules for his own +government, and of enforcing them +against himself by the necessary compulsitors, +if the case should arise; thus, +that Jack should have full powers to +censure, fine, punish, flog, flay, banish, +imprison, or set himself in the stocks +as often as he should think fit; but +that whether Jack did right or wrong, +in any given case, Jack was himself +to be the sole judge, and neither +Squire Bull nor any of his Justices of +the Peace was to have one word to +say to him or his proceedings in the +matter: on the contrary, that any +such interference on their part, was +to be regarded as a high grievance +and misdemeanour on their part, for +which Jack was to be entitled at the +least to read them a lecture from the +writing-desk, and shut the schoolroom +door in their own or their children's +face.</p> + +<p>There were many other whimsical +and extravagant things contained in +this private note-book, so much so, +that it was evident no man in his senses +could ever have intended to make them +part of his bargain with Jack. But +the matter was put beyond a doubt +by the usher producing the original +draft of the indenture, on which some +of these crotchets, including this fancy +about the right of the schoolboys to +reject the usher if they did not like +him, had been <i>interlined</i> in Jack's +hand: but all of which the Squire, on +revising the deed, had scored out with +his own pen, adding in the margin, +opposite to the very passage, the +words, in italics—"<i>See him damned +first.—J.B.</i>" And as it could not +be disputed that Jack and the Squire +ultimately subscribed the deed, omitting +all this nonsense—the Justices had +no hesitation in holding, that Jack's +private memorandum-book, even if he +had always carried it in his breeches +pocket, and quoted it on all occasions, +instead of leaving it—as it was plain +he had done—for many a long year, in +some forgotten corner of his trunk +or lumber-room, could no more affect +the construction of the indenture +between himself and Squire, or +afford him any defence against performance +of his part of that indenture, than +if he had founded on the statutes of +Prester John, on the laws of Hum-Bug, +Fee-Faw-Fum, or any other +Emperor of China for the time being. +And so, after hearing very deliberately +all that the attorney for Jack had to +say to the contrary, they decided that +Jack must forthwith proceed to examine +the usher, and give him possession, +if qualified, of the schoolhouse +and other appurtenances; or +else make up his mind to a thundering +action of damages if he did not.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page358" id="page358" title="page358"></a>The Justices thought that Jack, on +hearing the case fairly stated, and +their opinion given against him, with +a long string of cases in point, would +yield, and give the usher possession +in the usual way; but no: no sooner +was the sentence written out than Jack +entered an appeal to the Quarter-sessions. +There the whole matter was +heard over again, at great length, before +a full bench; but after Jack and +his attorney had spoken till they were +tired, the Quarter-sessions, without a +moment's hesitation, confirmed the +sentence of the Justices, with costs.</p> + +<p>Jack, who had blustered exceedingly +as to his chances of bamboozling +the Quarter-sessions, and quashing +the sentence of the Justices, looked +certainly not a little discomfited at the +result of his appeal. For some days +after, he was observed to walk about +looking gloomy and disheartened, and +was heard to say to some of his family, +that he began to think matters had +really gone too far between him and +his good friend the Squire, to whom +he owed his bread; that, on second +thoughts, he would give up the point +about intruding ushers on the schools, +and see whether the Squire might not +be prevailed on to arrange matters on +an amicable footing; and that he +would take an opportunity, the next +time he had an assembly at his house, +of consulting his friends on the subject. +And had Jack stuck to this resolution, +there is little doubt that, by +some device or other, he would have +gained all he wanted; for the Squire, +being an easy, good-natured man, and +wishing really to do his duty in the +matter of the ushership, would probably, +if Jack had yielded in this instance +with a good grace, have probably +allowed him in the end to have +things very much his own way. But +to the surprise of everybody, the next +time Jack had a party of friends with +him, he rose up, and putting on that +peculiarly sanctimonious expression +which his countenance generally assumed +when he had a mind to confuse +and mystify his auditors by a string +of enigmas and Jesuitical reservations, +made a long, unintelligible, and inconsistent +harangue, the drift of which +no one could well understand, except +that it bore that "both the Justices and +the Quarter-sessions were a set of ignoramuses +who could not understand +a word of Jack's contract, and knew +nothing of black-letter whatever; but +that, nevertheless, as they had decided +against him, he, as a loyal subject, +must and would submit;—not, however, +that he had the least idea of taking +the Squire's usher, or any other usher +whatsoever, on trials, contrary to the +schoolboys' wishes; <i>that</i>, he begged to +say, he would never hear of:—still he +would obey the law by laying no claim +himself to the usher's salary, nor interfering +with the usher's drawing it; and +yet that he could not exactly answer for +others not doing so;"—Jack knowing +all the time, that, claim as he might, +he himself had no more right to the salary +than to the throne of the Celestial +Empire; while, on the other hand, by +locking up the schoolroom, and keeping +the key in his pocket, he had rendered +it impossible for the poor wight +of an usher to recover one penny of it—the +legal condition of his doing so being +his actual possession of the schoolhouse +itself, of which Jack, by this last manœuvre, +had contrived to deprive him. +But, as if to finish the matter, and to +prove the knavish spirit in which this +protestation was made, he instantly +got a <i>private</i> friend and relative of his +own, with whom the whole scheme +had been arranged beforehand, to +come forward and bring an action on +the case, in which the latter claimed +the whole fund which would have belonged +to the unlucky usher—in terms, +as he said, of some old arrangement +made by the Squire's predecessor as to +school-salaries during vacancy; to be +applied, as the writ very coolly stated +it, "for behoof of Jack's destitute widow, +in the event of his decease, and +of his numerous and indigent family."</p> + +<p>Many of Jack's own family, who +were present on this occasion, remonstrated +with him on the subject, foreseeing +that if he went on as he had +begun and threatened to proceed, he +must soon come to a rupture with the +Squire, which could end in nothing +else than his being turned out of house +and hall, and thrown adrift upon the +wide world, without a penny in his +pocket. But the majority—who were +puffed up with more than Jack's own +madness and had a notion that by +sheer boldness and bullying on their +part, the Squire would, after a time, +be sure to give way, encouraged Jack +to go on at all hazards, and not to retract +a hair's breadth in his demands. +And Jack, who had now become mischievously +<a class="pagenum" name="page359" id="page359" title="page359"></a>crazed on the subject, and +began to be as arrogant and conceited +of his own power and authority, as +ever my Lord Peter had been in his +proudest and most pestilential days, +was not slow to follow their advice.</p> + +<p>'Twas of no consequence that a +friend of the Squire's, who had known +Jack long, and had really a great kindness +towards him, tried to bring about +an arrangement between him and the +Squire upon very handsome terms. +He had a meeting with Jack;—at +which he talked the matter over in a +friendly way—telling him that though +the Squire must reserve in his own +hands the nomination of his own ushers, +he had always been perfectly willing +to listen to reason in any objections +that might be taken to them; +only some reason he must have, were +it only that Jack could not abide +the sight of a red-nosed usher:—let +that reason, such as it was, be put on +paper, and he would consider of it; +and if, from any peculiar idiosyncracy +in Jack's temperament and constitution, +he found that his antipathy to +red noses was unsuperable, probably +he would not insist on filling up the +vacancy with a nose of that colour. +Jack, who was always more rational +when alone than when he had got the +attorney and the more frantic members +of his family at his elbow, acknowledged, +as he well might, that all +this seemed very reasonable; and that +he really thought that on these terms +the Squire and he would have little +difficulty in coming to an agreement. +So they parted, leaving the Squire's +friend under the impression that all +was right, and that he had only to get +an agreement to that effect drawn out, +signed and sealed by the parties.</p> + +<p>Next morning, however, he received +a letter by the penny-post, written no +doubt in Jack's hand, but obviously +dictated by the attorney, in these +terms:—</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"Honoured Sir—Lest there should +be any misconception between us as +to our yesterday's conversation, I +have put into writing the substance +of what was agreed on between us, +which I understand to be this: that +there shall be no let or impediment to +the Squire's full and absolute right of +naming an usher in all cases of vacancy; +that I shall have an equally +full right to object to the said usher +for any reasons that may be satisfactory +to myself, and thereupon to exclude +him from the school; leaving it +to the Squire, if he pleases, to send +another, whom I shall have the right +of handling in the same fashion, with +this further proviso, that if the Squire +does not fill up the office to my satisfaction +within half-a-year, I shall +be entitled to take the appointment +into my own hands. I need hardly +add that no Justices of the Peace are to +take cognizance of anything done by +me in the matter, be it good, bad, or +indifferent. Hoping that this statement +of our mutual views will be +found correct and satisfactory—I remain, +your humble servant,</p> + +<p>"JACK."</p></div> + +<p>The moment the Squire's friend +perused this missive, he saw plainly +that all hope of bringing Jack to his +senses was at an end; and that under +the advice of evil counsellors, lunatic +friends, and lewd fellows of the baser +sort, Jack would shortly bring himself +and his family to utter ruin.</p> + +<p>And now, as might be expected, Jack's +disorder, which had hitherto been comparatively +of the calm and melancholy +kind, broke out into the most violent and +phrenetic exhibitions. He sometimes +raved incoherently, for hours together, +against the Squire; often, in the midst +of his speeches, he was assailed with +epileptic fits, during which he displayed +the strangest contortions and +most laughable gestures; he threw entirely +aside the decent coat he had +worn for some time back, and habitually +attired himself in the old and +threadbare raiment, which he had worn +after he and Martin had been so unceremoniously +sent to the right-about +by Lord Peter, and even ran about +the streets with his band tied round +his peaked beaver, bearing thereon +the motto—"<i>Nemo me impune lacessit</i>." +If his madness had only +led him to make a spectacle and laughing-stock +of himself, by these wild +vagaries and mountebank exhibitions, +all had been well, but this did not satisfy +Jack; his old disposition for a +riot had returned, and a riot, right or +wrong, he was determined to have. +So he set to work to frighten the +women of the village with stories, as +to the monsters whom the Squire would +send among them as ushers, who +would do nothing but teach their +<a class="pagenum" name="page360" id="page360" title="page360"></a>children drinking, chuck-farthing, and +cock-fighting; to the schoolboys +themselves, talked of the length, +breadth, and thickness, of the usher's +birch, which he assured them was +dipped in vinegar every evening, in +order to afford a more agreeable stimulus +to the part affected; he plied +them with halfpence and strong beer; +exhorted them to insurrections and +barrings-out; taught them how to +mock at any usher who would not submit +to be Jack's humble servant; and +by gibes and scurril ballads, which he +would publish in the newspapers, try to +make his life a burden to him. He also +instructed them how best to stick darts +into his wig, cover his back with +spittle, fill his pockets with crackers, +burn assafœtida in the fire, extinguish +the candles with fulminating +powder, or blow up the writing-desk +by a train of combustibles. Above +all, he counselled the urchins to stand +firm the next time that John sent an +usher down to that quarter, and vehemently +to protest for the doctrine of +election as to their own usher, and reprobation +as to the Squire's; assuring +them, that provided they took his advice, +and followed the plan which he would +afterwards impart to them in confidence +at the proper time, he could almost +take it upon himself to say, that +in a short time, no tyrannical usher, +or cast-off tutor of the Squire, should +venture to show his face, with or without +tawse or ferule, within the boundaries +of North Farm.</p> + +<p>It was not long before an opportunity +offered of putting these precious +schemes in practice; for shortly afterwards, +the old usher of a school on the +northermost boundary of the North +Farm estates having died, the ushership +became vacant, and John, as usual, +appointed a successor in his room. +Being warned this time by what had +taken place on the last occasion, the +Squire took care to apply beforehand +to the Justices of the Peace—got +a peremptory <i>mandamus</i> from them, +directing Jack to proceed forthwith, +and, after the usual trials, to put the +usher in possession of the schoolhouse +by legal form, and without re-regard +to any protest or interruption +from any or all of the schoolboys +put together. So down the usher +proceeded, accompanied by a posse +of constables and policemen of various +divisions, till they arrived at the +schoolhouse, which lay adjacent to +the churchyard, and then demanded +admittance. It happened that in this +quarter resided some of Jack's family, +who, as we have already mentioned, +differed from him entirely, thinking him +totally wrong in the contest with the +Squire and being completely satisfied +that all his glosses upon his contract +were either miserable quibbles or mere +hallucinations, and that it was his duty, +so long as he ate John's bread, and +slept under John's roof, to perform +fairly the obligations he had come +under:—and so, on reading the Justices' +warrant, which required them, +on pain of being set in the stocks, and +forfeiture of two shillings and sixpence +of penalty, besides costs, to give immediate +possession to the Squire's +usher, they at once resolved to obey, +called for the key of the schoolhouse, +and proceeded to the door, +accompanied by the usher and the authorities, +for the purpose of complying +with the warrant and admitting the +usher as in times past. But on arriving +there, never was there witnessed +such a scene of confusion. The +churchyard was crowded with ragamuffins +of every kind, from all the neighbouring +parishes; scarcely was there +a sot or deboshed fellow within the +district who had not either come himself +or found a substitute; gipsies, beggarwomen, +and thimbleriggers were +thick as blackberries; while Jack himself—who, +upon hearing of what was +going forward, had come down by the +night coach with all expedition—was +standing on a tombstone near the doorway, +and holding forth to the whole bevy +of rascals whom he had assembled about +him. It was evident from his tones and +gestures that Jack had been exciting +the mob in every possible way; but as +the justices and the constables drew +near, he changed the form of his +countenance, pulled a psalm-book out +of his pocket, and, with much sanctity +and appearance of calmness, gave out +the tune; in which the miscellaneous +assemblage around him joined, with +similar unction and devotion. When +the procession reached the door, they +found the whole inside of the schoolhouse +already packed with urchins +and blackguards of all kinds, who, +having previously gained admission +by the window, had forcibly barricaded +the door against the constables, +being assisted in the defence thereof +<a class="pagenum" name="page361" id="page361" title="page361"></a>by the mob without, who formed a +double line, and kept hustling the poor +usher and the constables from side to +side, helping themselves to a purse or +two in passing, and calling out at the +same time, "take care of pickpockets"—occasionally +amusing themselves also +by playfully smashing the beaver of +some of the justices of the peace over +their face, to the tune of "all round +my hat," sung in chorus, on the Mainzerian +system, amidst peals of laughter.</p> + +<p>Meantime Jack was skipping up +and down upon the tombstone, calling +out to his myrmidons—"Good +friends! Sweet friends! Let me not +stir your spirits up to mutiny. Though +that cairn of granite stones lies very +handy and inviting, I pray you refrain +from it. Touch it not. I humbly +entreat my friend with the dirty shirt +not to break the sconce of the respectable +gentleman whom I have in +my eye, with that shillelah of his—though +I must admit that he is labouring +under strong and just provocation." +"For mercy's sake, my dear sir!" +he would exclaim to a third—"don't +push my respected friend the justice +into yonder puddle—the one which +lies so convenient on your right hand +there; though, to be sure, the ground +<i>is</i> slippery, and the thing <i>might</i> happen, +in a manner without any one's +being able to prevent it." And so +on he went, taking care to say nothing +for which the justices could afterwards +venture to commit him to +Bridewell; but, in truth, stirring up +the rabble to the utmost, by nods, +looks, winks, and covert speeches, intended +to convey exactly the opposite +meaning from what the words bore.</p> + +<p>At last by main force, and after a +hard scuffle, the constables contrived +to force the schoolhouse door open, +and so to make way for the justices, +the usher, and those of Jack's family +who, as we have seen already, had +made up their minds to give the usher +possession, to enter. But having entered, +the confusion and bedevilment +was ten times worse than even in the +churchyard itself. The benches were +lined with a pack of overgrown rascals +in corduroy vestments, and with +leather at the knees, from all the +neighbouring villages; in a gallery +at one end sat a Scotch bagpiper, +flanked by a blind fiddler, and an itinerant +performer on the hurdygurdy, +accompanied by his monkey—who in +the course of his circuit through the +village, had that morning received a +special retainer, in the shape of half a +quartern of gin, for the occasion; while +in the usher's chair were ensconced +two urchins of about fourteen years +of age, smoking tobacco, playing at all +fours, and drinking purl, with their +legs diffused in a picturesque attitude +along the writing-desk. One of the +justices tried to command silence—till +the Squire's commission to the +usher should be read; but no sooner +had he opened his mouth than the +whole multitude burst forth as if the +confusion of tongues had taken place +for the first time; twenty spoke together, +ten whistled, as many more +sang psalms and obscene songs alternately; +the bagpiper droned his +worst; the fiddler uttered notes that +made the hair of those who heard +them stand on end; while the hurdygurdy +man did his utmost to grind +down both his companions, in which +task he was ably assisted by the grinning +and chattering of the honourable +and four-footed gentleman on his +left. Meantime stones, tiles, and +rafters, pewter pint-pots, fragments +of slates, rulers, and desks, were circulating +through the schoolhouse in +all directions, in the most agreeable +confusion.</p> + +<p>One of the justices tried to speak, +but even from the first it was all +dumb show; and scarcely had he proceeded +through two sentences, when +his oration was extinguished as suddenly +and by the same means as the +conflagration of the Royal Palace at +Lilliput. After many attempts to +obtain a hearing, it became obvious +that all chance of doing so in the +schoolhouse was at an end; and so +the usher, the justices, and the rest, +adjourned to the next ale-house, where +they had the usher's commission +quietly read over in presence of the +landlord and the waiter, and handed +him over the keys of the house before +the same witnesses; of all which, and +of their previous deforcement by a +mob of rapscallions, they took care to +have an instrument regularly drawn +out by a notary-public. Thereafter +they ordered a rump and dozen, being +confident that as the day was bitterly +cold, and the snow some feet deep +upon the ground, the courage of the +rioters would be cooled before they +<a class="pagenum" name="page362" id="page362" title="page362"></a>had finished dinner; and so it was, +for towards evening, the temperature +having descended considerably beneath +the freezing point, the mob, who had +now exhausted their beer and gin, and +who saw that there was no more fun +to be expected for the day, began +to disperse each man to his home, so +that before nightfall the coast was +clear; on which the justices, with the +<i>posse comitatus</i>, escorted the usher to +the schoolhouse, opened the door, +put him formally in possession, and, +wishing him much good of his new +appointment, departed.</p> + +<p>But how did Jack, you will ask, bear +this rebuff on the part of his own kin? +Why, very ill indeed; in truth, he +became furious, and seemed to have +lost all natural feelings towards his +own flesh and blood. He summoned +such of his family as had given admission +to the usher before him, called a +sort of court-martial of the rest of his +relations to enquire into their conduct; +and, notwithstanding the +accused protested that they had the highest +respect and regard for Jack, +were his humble servants to command +in all ordinary matters, and only +acted in this instance in obedience +to the justices' warrant, (the which, if +they had disobeyed, they were certain +to have been at that moment cooling +their heels in the stocks,) Jack, who +was probably worked up to a kind of +frenzy by his more violent of his +inmates, kicked them out of the room, +and sent a set of his myrmidons after +them, with instructions to tear their +coats off their backs, strip them of +their wigs and small-clothes, and turn +them into the street. Against this the +unlucky wights appealed to the justices +for protection, who, to be sure, +sent down some policemen, who beat +off the mob, and enabled them to make +their doors fast against Jack and his +emissaries. But beyond that they +could give them little assistance; for +though Jack and his abettors could +not actually venture upon a trespass +by forcing their way within doors, +they contrived to render the very +existence of all who were not of their +way of thinking miserable. If it was +an usher who, in spite of all their +efforts to exclude him, had fairly got +admittance into the schoolhouse, they +set up a sentry-box at his very door, +in which a rival usher held forth on +Cocker and the alphabet; they drew +off a few stray boys from the village +school, and this detachment, recruited +and reinforced by all the idlers of +the neighbourhood, to whom mischief +was sport, was studiously instructed +to keep up a perpetual whistling, +hooting, howling, hissing, and +imitations of the crowing of a cock, so +as to render it impossible for the usher +and boys within the school to hear or +profit by one word that was said. If +the scholars within were told to say +A, the blackguards without were bellowing +B; or if the usher asked how +many three times three made, the +answer from the outside would be +"ten," or else that "it depended upon +circumstances." Every week some +ribald and libellous paragraph would +appear in the county newspaper, headed +"Advertisement," in such terms +as the following:—"We have just +learned from the best authority, that +the usher of a school not a hundred +miles off from Hogs-Norton, has lately +been detected in various acts of forgery, +petty larceny, sedition, high +treason, burglary, &c. &c. If this +report be not officially contradicted +by the said usher within a fortnight, +by advertisement, duly inserted and +paid for in this newspaper, we shall +hold the same to be true." Or +sometimes more mysteriously thus:—"Delicacy +forbids us to allude to +the shocking reports which are current +respecting the usher of Mullaglass. +Christian charity would lead +us to hope they were unfounded, but +Christian verity compels us to state +that we believe every word of them." +And though Jack and his editor sometimes +overshot their mark, and got +soused in damages at the instance of +those whom they had libelled, yet +Jack, who found that it answered his +ends, persevered, and so kept the +whole neighbourhood in hot water.</p> + +<p>You would not believe me were I +to tell you of half the tyrannical and +preposterous pranks which he performed +about this period; but some of +them I can't help noticing. He had +picked up some subscriptions, for +instance, from charitable folks in the +neighbourhood, to build a school upon +a remote corner of North Farm, where +not a single boy had learned his alphabet +within the memory of man; and +what, think ye, does he do with the +money, but insists on clapping down +the new school exactly opposite the +<a class="pagenum" name="page363" id="page363" title="page363"></a>old school in the village, merely to +spite the poor usher, against whom he +had taken a dislike—though there was +no more need to build a school there +than to ship a cargo of coals for Newcastle. +Again, having ascertained +that one of his servants had been seen +shaking hands with some of Jack's +family with whom he had quarrelled +as above mentioned, he refused to give +him a character, though the poor fellow +was only thinking of taking service +somewhere in the plantations.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding all Jack's efforts, +however, it sometimes happened that +when an usher was appointed he could +not get up a sufficient cabal against +him, and that even the schoolboys, +knowing something of the man before, +had no objection to him. In such +cases Jack resorted to various schemes +in order to cast the candidate upon his +examinations. Sometimes he would +shut him up in a small closet, telling him +he must answer a hundred and fifty +questions, in plane and spherical trigonometry, +within as many minutes, and +that he would be allowed the assistance +of Johnson's Dictionary, and the <i>Gradus +ad Parnassum</i>, for the purpose. At +other tines he would ask the candidate, +with a bland smile, what was his +opinion of things in general, and of +the dispute between him (Jack) and +the Squire in particular; and if that +question was not answered to his satisfaction, +he remitted him to his studies. +When no objection could be made to +the man's parts, Jack would say that +he had scruples of conscience, because +he doubted whether his commission +had been fairly come by, or whether +he had not bribed the Squire by a five-pound +note to obtain it. At last +he did not even take the trouble of +going through this farce, but would +at once, if he disliked the look of the +man's face, tell him he was busy at +the moment;—that he might lay the +Squire's letter on the table, and call +again that day six months for an answer. +He no longer pretended, in fact, to any +fairness or justice in his dealings; +for though those who sided with him +might be guilty of all the offences in +the calendar, Jack continued to wink +so hard, and shut his ears so close, as +not to see or hear of them; while as +to the unhappy wights who differed +from him, he had the eyes of Argus +and the ear of Dionysius, and the tender +mercies of a Spanish inquisitor, +discovering <i>scandalum magnatum</i> and +high treason in ballads which they had +written twenty years before, and in +which Jack, though he received a presentation +copy at the time, had never +pretended, up to that moment, to detect +the least harm.</p> + +<p>The last of these freaks which I +shall here mention took place on this +wise. Jack had never been accustomed +to invite any one to his assemblies +but the ushers who had been appointed +by the Squire, and it was always +understood that they alone had a +vote in all vestry matters. But when +John quarrelled with his family, as above +mentioned, and a large part of the +oldest and most respectable of his relatives +drew off from him, it occurred +to Jack that he could bring in a set +of new auxiliaries, upon whose vote +he could count in all his family squabbles, +or his deputes, with Squire Bull; +and the following was the device he +fell upon for that end.</p> + +<p>Here and there upon North Farm, +where the village schools were crowded, +little temporary schoolhouses had +been run up, where one or two of +the monitors were accustomed to +teach such of the children as could +not be accommodated in the larger +school. But these assistants had always +been a little looked down upon, +and had never been allowed a seat at +Jack's board. Now, however, he began +to change his tone towards them, +and to court and flatter them on all +occasions. One fine morning he suddenly +made his appearance on the village +green, followed by some of his +hangers on, bearing a theodolite, +chains, measuring rods, sextants, compasses, +and other instruments of land-surveying. +Jack set up his theodolite, +took his observations, began noting +measurements, and laying down the +bases of triangles in all directions, then, +having summed up his calculations +with much gravity, gave directions to +those about him to line off with stakes +and ropes the space which he pointed +out to them, and which in fact enclosed +nearly half the village. In the course +of these operations, the usher, who had +witnessed these mathematical proceedings +of Jack from the window, but could +not comprehend what the man would +be at, sallied forth, and accosting +Jack, asked him what he meant by +these strange lines of circumvallation. +"Why," answered Jack, "I have +<a class="pagenum" name="page364" id="page364" title="page364"></a>been thinking for some time past of +relieving you of part of your heavy +duties, and dividing the parish-school +between you and your assistant; so in +future you will confine yourself to the +space outside the ropes, and leave all +within the inclosure to him." It was +in vain that the usher protested he +was quite equal to the duty; that the +boys liked him, and disliked his assistant; +that if the village was thus +divided, the assistant would be put +upon a level with him, and have a +vote in the vestry, to which he had +no more right than to a seat in the +House of Commons. Jack was not +to be moved from his purpose, but +gave orders to have a similar apportionment +made in most of the neighbouring +villages, and then inviting the +assistants to a party at his house, he +had them sworn in as vestrymen, +telling them, that in future they +had the same right to a seat at his +board as the best of John's ushers +had. Here again, however, he found +he had run his head against a wall, +and that he was not the mighty personage +he took himself for; for, on a +complaint to the justices of the peace, +a dozen special constables were sent +down, who tore up the posts, removed +the ropes, and demolished all Jack's +inclosures in a trice.</p> + +<p>These frequent defeats rendered +Jack nearly frantic. He now began +to quarrel even with his best friends, +not a few of whom, though they had +gone with him a certain length, now +left his house, and told him plainly +they would never set foot in it again. +He burst forth into loud invectives +against Martin, who had always been +a good friend to his penny subscriptions, +and more than once had come +to his assistance when Jack was hard +pressed by Hugh, a dissenting schoolmaster, +between whom and Jack +there had long been a bloody feud. +Jack now denounced Martin in set +terms; accused him of being in the +pay of Peter, with whom he said he had +been holding secret conferences of late +at the Cross-Keys; and of setting the +Squire's mind against him (Jack)—whereas +poor Martin, till provoked by +Jack's abuse to defend himself, had +never said an unkind word against +him. Finding, however, that, with +all his efforts, he did not make much +way with the men, Jack directed his +battery chiefly against the women, +who were easily caught by his sanctimonious +air, and knowing nothing +earthly of the subject, took for gospel +all that Jack chose to tell them. +He held love-feasts in his house up +to a late hour, at which he generally +harangued on the subject of the persecutions +which he endured. He vowed +the justices were all in a conspiracy +against him; that they were +constantly intruding into his grounds, +notwithstanding his warnings that +spring-guns were set in the premises; +that on one occasion a tall fellow of a +sheriff's officer had made his way into his +house and served him with a writ of <i>fieri +facias</i> even in the midst of one of his assemblies, +a disgrace he never could get +over; that he could not walk ten yards +in any direction, or saunter for an instant +at the corner of a street, without +being ordered by a policeman to move +on; in short, that he lived in perpetual +terror and anxiety—and all this because +he had done his best to save +them and their children from the awful +scourge of deboshed and despotical +ushers. At the conclusion of these +meetings he invariably handed round +his hat, into which the silly women dropped +a good many shillings, which Jack +assured them would be applied for the +public benefit, meaning thereby his +own private advantage.</p> + +<p>Jack, however, with all his craze, +was too knowing not to see that the +women, beyond advancing him a few +shillings at a time, would do little +for his cause so far as any terms with +Squire Bull was concerned; so, with +the view of making a last attack upon +the Squire, and driving him into terms, +he began to look about for assistance +among those with whom he had previously +been at loggerheads. It cost him +some qualms before he could so far abase +his stomach as to do so; but at last he +ventured to address a long and pitiful +letter to Hugh, in which he set forth +all his disputes with John, and dwelt +much on his scruples of conscience; +begged him to forget old quarrels, and +put down his name to a Round Robin, +which he was about to address to the +Squire in his own behalf. To this +epistle Hugh answered as follows:—"Dearly +beloved,—my bowels are +grieved for your condition, but I see +only one cure for your scruples of conscience. +Strip off the Squire's livery, +and give up your place, as I did, and +your peace of mind will be restored +<a class="pagenum" name="page365" id="page365" title="page365"></a>to you. In the mean time, I do not +see very well why I should help you +to pocket the Squire's wages, and do +nothing for it. Yours, in the spirit +of meekness and forgiveness—HUGH." +After this rebuff, Jack, you may easily +believe, saw there was little hope of +assistance from that quarter.</p> + +<p>As a last resource, he called a +general meeting of his friends, at which +it was resolved to present the proposed +Round Robin to John, signed +by as many names as they could muster; +in which Jack, who seemed to be +of opinion that the more they asked +the greater was their chance of getting +something at least, set forth the articles +he wanted, and without which, +he told John, he could no longer remain +in his house; but that he and +his relatives and friends would forthwith, +if this petition was rejected, +walk out, to the infinite scandal of the +neighbourhood, leaving the Squire +without a teacher or a writing-master +within fifty miles to supply their place. +They demanded that the Squire should +give up the nomination of the ushers +entirely, though in whose favour they +did not explain; and that Jack was in +future to be a law unto himself, and +to be supreme in all matters of education, +with power to himself to define +in what such matters consisted. On +these requests being conceded, they +stated that they would continue to +give their countenance to the Squire +as in times past; otherwise the whole +party must quit possession incontinently. +Jack prevailed on a good +many to sign this document—though +some did not like the idea of walking +out, demurred, and added after the +word <i>incontinently</i>, "<i>i.e.</i> when +convenient,"—and thus signed, they put the +Round Robin under a twopenny +cover, and dispatched it to "John +Bull, Esquire"—with haste.</p> + +<p>If they really thought the Squire +was to be bullied into these terms by +this last sally, they found themselves +consumedly mistaken; for after a time +down came a long and perfectly civil +letter from the Squire's secretary, telling +them their demands were totally +out of the question, and that the +Squire would see them at the antipodes +sooner than comply with them.</p> + +<p>Did Jack then, you will ask, walk +out as he had threatened, when he got +the Squire's answer? Not he. He +now gave notice that he intended to +apply for an Act of Parliament on the +subject: and that, in the meantime, +the matter might stand over. Meantime, +and in case matters should come +to the worst, he is busily engaged +begging all over the country, for cash +to erect a new wooden tenement for +him, in the event of his having to leave +his old one of stone and lime. Some +say even that he has been seen laying +down several pounds of gunpowder +in the cellar of his present house, and +has been heard to boast of his intention +to blow up his successor when +he takes possession; but for my +own part, and seeing how he has +shuffled hitherto, I believe that he is +no nearer removing than he was a +year ago. Indeed he has said confidentially +to several people, that even +if his new house were all ready for +him, he could not, with his asthmatic +tendency, think of entering it for a +twelvemonth or so, till the lath and +plaster should be properly seasoned. +Of all this, however, we shall hear +more anon.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<a name="bw329s7" id="bw329s7"></a> +<a class="pagenum" name="page366" id="page366" title="page366"></a> +<h2>PAUL DE KOCKNEYISMS.</h2> + +<h3>BY A COCKNEY.</h3> + +<p>When any one thinks of French +literature, there immediately rises before +him a horrid phantasmagoria of +repulsive objects—murders, incests, +parricides, and every imaginable shape +of crime that horror e'er conceived or +fancy feigned. He sees the whole +efforts of a press, brimful of power +and talent, directed against every +thing that has hitherto been thought +necessary to the safety of society, +or the happiness of domestic life—marriage +deliberately written down, +and proved to be the cause of all the +miseries of the social state: and strange +to say, in the crusade against matrimony, +the sharpest swords and strongest +lances are wielded by women. +Those women are received into society—men's +wives and daughters associate +with them—and their books are +noticed in the public journals without +any allusions to the Association for the +prevention of vice, but rather with the +praises which, in other times and +countries, would have been bestowed +on works of genius and virtue. The +taste of the English public has certainly +deteriorated within the last few +years; and popularity, the surest index +of the public's likings, though not +of the writer's deservings, has attended +works of which the great staple +has been crime and blackguardism. A +certain rude power, a sort of unhealthy +energy, has enabled the writer +to throw an interest round pickpockets +and murderers; and if this interest +were legitimately produced, by the +exhibition of human passions modified +by the circumstances of the actor—if +it arose from the development of one +real, living, thinking, doing, and suffering +man's heart, we could only wonder +at the author's choice of such a +subject, but we should be ready to acknowledge +that he had widened our +sphere of knowledge—and made us +feel, as we all do, without taking the +same credit for it to ourselves that +the old blockhead in France does, that +being human, we have sympathies with +all, even the lowest and wickedest of +our kind. But the interest those works +excite arises from no such legitimate +source—not from the development of +our common nature, but from the creation +of a new one—from startling +contrasts, not of two characters but of +one—tenderness, generosity in one +page; fierceness and murder in the +next. But though our English <i>tastes</i> +are so far deteriorated as to tolerate, +or even to admire, the records +of cruelty and sin now proceeding +every day from the press—our English +<i>morals</i> would recoil with horror +from the deliberate wickedness +which forms the great attraction of +the French modern school of romance. +The very subjects chosen for their +novels, by the most popular of their +female writers, shows a state of feeling +in the authors more dreadful to +contemplate than the mere coarse raw-head-and-bloody-bones +descriptions of +our chroniclers of Newgate. A married +woman, the heroine—high in +rank, splendid in intellect, radiant +in beauty—has for the hero a villain +escaped from the hulks. There is no +record of his crimes—we are not called +upon to follow him in his depredations, +or see him cut throats in the +scientific fashion of some of our indigenous +rascals. He is the philosopher,—the +instructor—the guide. The object +of <i>his</i> introduction is to show the +iniquity of human laws—the object +of <i>her</i> introduction is to show the absurdity +of the institution of marriage. +This would never be tolerated in England. +Again, a married woman is +presented to us—for the sympathy +which with us attends a young couple +to the church-door, only begins in +France after they have left it: as a +child she has been betrothed to a person +of her own rank—at five or six incurable +idiocy takes possession of her +proposed husband—but when she is +eighteen the marriage takes place—the +husband is a mere child still; for +his intellect has continued stationary +though his body has reached maturity—a +more revolting picture was never +presented than that of the condition of +the idiot's wife—her horror of her husband—and +of course her passion for +another. The most interesting scenes +between the lovers are constantly interrupted +by the hideous representative of +<a class="pagenum" name="page367" id="page367" title="page367"></a>matrimony, the grinning husband, who +rears his slavering countenance from +behind the sofa, and impresses his unfortunate +wife with a sacred awe for +the holy obligations of marriage.</p> + +<p>Again, a dandy of fifty is presented +to us, whose affection for his ward has +waited, of course, till she is wedded to +another, to ripen into love. He still +continues her protector against the +advances of others; for jealousy is a +good point of character in every one +but the husband, and there it is only +ridiculous. The husband in this case +is another admirable specimen of the +results of wedlock for life—he is a +chattering, shallow pretender—a political +economist, prodigiously dull +and infinitely conceited—an exaggerated +type of the Hume-Bowring statesman—and, +as is naturally to be expected, +our sympathies are awakened +for the wretched wife, and we rejoice +to see that her beauty and talents, her +fine mind and pure ideas, are appreciated +by a dashing young fellow, who +outwits our original friend the dandy +of fifty and the philosophical deputé; +the whole leaving a pleasing impression +on the reader's mind from the conviction +that the heroine is no longer neglected.</p> + +<p>From the similarity of these stories—and +they are only taken at random +from a great number—it will be seen +that the spirit of almost all of them is +the same. But when we go lower in +the scale, and leave the class of philosophic +novels, we find their tales of +life and manners still more absurd +in their total untrueness than the +others were hateful in their design. +There is a novel just now appearing +in one of the most widely-circulated +of the Parisian papers, so grotesquely +overdone, that if it had been meant +for a caricature of the worst parts of +our own hulk-and-gallows authors, it +would have been very much admired; +but meant to be serious, powerful, +harrowing, and all the rest of it, it is +a most curious exhibition of a nation's +taste and a writer's audacity. The +<i>Mysteries of Paris</i>, by Eugene Sue, +has been dragging its slow length +along for a long time, and gives no +sign of getting nearer its denouement +than when it began. A sovereign +prince is the hero—his own daughter, +whom he has disowned, the heroine; +and the tale commences by his fighting +a man on the street, and taking a +fancy to his unknown child, who is +the inhabitant of one of the lowest +dens in the St Giles' of Paris! The +other <i>dramatis personæ</i> are convicts, +receivers of stolen goods, murderers, +intriguers of all ranks—the +aforesaid prince, sometimes in the disguise +of a workman, sometimes of a +pickpocket, acting the part of a providence +among them, rewarding the +good and punishing the guilty. The +English personages are the Countess +Sarah McGregor—the lawful wife of +the prince—her brother Tom, and Sir +Walter Murph, Esquire. These are all +jostled, and crowded, and pushed, and +flurried—first in flash kens, where the +language is slang; then in country +farms, and then in halls and palaces—and +so intermixed and confused, that +the clearest head gets puzzled with +the entanglements of the story; and +confusion gets worse confounded as +the farrago proceeds. How M. Sue +will manage ever to come to a close is +an enigma to us; and we shall wait +with some impatience to see how he +will distribute his poetic justice, when +he can't get his puppets to move another +step. Horror seems the great +ingredient in the present literary fare +of France, and in the <i>Mystères de +Paris</i> the most confirmed glutton of +such delicacies may sup full of them. +In the midst of such depraved and +revolting exhibitions, it is a sort of +satisfaction, though not of the loftiest +kind, to turn to the coarse fun and +ludicrous descriptions of Paul de Kock. +And, after all, our friend Paul has not +many more sins than coarseness and +buffoonery to answer for. As to his +attempting, of set purpose, to corrupt +people's morals, it never entered into +his head. He does not know what +morals are; they never form any part +of his idea of manners or character. +If a good man comes in his way, he +looks at him with a strange kind of +unacquaintance that almost rises into +respect; but he is certainly more affectionate, +and on far better terms, +with men about town—amative hairdressers, +flirting grisettes, and the +whole genus, male and female, of the +epiciers. It would no doubt be an +improvement if the facetious Paul +could believe in the existence of an +honest woman; but such women as +come in his way he describes to the +life. A ball in a dancing-master's +private room up six pairs of stairs, a +pic-nic to one of the suburbs, a dinner +at a restaurateur's, or a family consultation +<a class="pagenum" name="page368" id="page368" title="page368"></a>on a proposal of marriage, +are far more in Paul's way than tales +of open horror or silk-and-satin depravity. +One is only sorry, in the midst +of so much gaiety and good-humour, +to stumble on some scene or sentiment +that gives on the inclination to +throw the book in the fire, or start, +like Cæsar, on the top of the diligence +to pull the author's ears. But the +next page sets all right again; and +you go on laughing at the disasters of +my neighbour Raymond, or admiring +the graces or Chesterfieldian politeness +of M. Bellequeue. French nature +seems essentially different from +all the other natures hitherto known; +and yet, though so new, there never +rises any doubt that it is <i>a</i> nature, a +reality, as Thomas Carlyle says, and +not a sham. The personages presented +to us by Paul de Kock can scarcely, +in the strict sense of the word, be +called human beings; but they are +French beings of real flesh and blood, +speaking and thinking French in the +most decided possible manner, and at +intervals possessed of feelings which +make us inclined to include them in +the great genus <i>homo</i>, though with +so many inseparable accidents, that it +is impossible for a moment to shut +one's eyes to the species to which +they belong. But such as they are in +their shops, and back-parlours, and +ball-rooms, and <i>fêtes champêtres</i>, there +they are in Paul de Kock—nothing +extenuated, little set down in malice—vain, +empty, frivolous, good-tempered, +gallant, lively, and absurd. Let us +go to the wood of Romainville to celebrate +the anniversary of the marriage +of M. and Madame Moutonnet on the +day of St Eustache.</p> + +<p>"At a little distance from the ball, +towards the middle of the wood, a numerous +party is seated on the grass, or +rather on the sand; napkins are spread +on the ground, and covered with plates +and cold meat and fruits. The bottles +are placed in the cool shade, the glasses +are filled and emptied rapidly; good appetites +and open air make every thing +appear excellent. They make plates +out of paper, and toss pieces of paté +and sausage to each other. They eat, +they drink, they sing, they laugh and +play tricks. It seems a struggle who +shall be funniest. It is well known +that all things are allowable in the +country; and the cits now assembled +in the wood of Romainville seem fully +persuaded of the fact. A jolly old +governor of about fifty tries to carve +a turkey, and can't succeed. A little +woman, very red, very fat, and very +round, hastens to seize a limb of the +bird; she pulls at one side, the jolly +old governor at the other—the leg separates +at last, and the lady goes +sprawling on the grass, while the +gentleman topples over in the opposite +direction with the remainder of the +animal in his hand. The shouts of +laughter redouble, and M. Moutonnet—such +is the name of the jolly old +governor—resumes his place, declaring +that he will never try to carve +any thing again. 'I knew you would +never be able to manage it,' said a +large woman bluntly, in a tone that +agreed exactly with her starched and +crabbed features. She was sitting +opposite the stout gentleman, and had +seen with indignation the alacrity with +which the little lady had flown to M. +Moutonnet's assistance.</p> + +<p>"'In the twenty years we have been +married,' she continued, 'have you +ever carved any thing at home, sir?'</p> + +<p>"'No, my dear, that's very true;' +replied the stout gentleman in a submissive +voice, and trying to smile his +better half into good-humour.</p> + +<p>"'You don't know how to help a +dish of spinach, and yet you attempt +a dish like that!'</p> + +<p>"'My dear—in the country, you +know——'</p> + +<p>"'In the country, sir, as in the town, +people shouldn't try things they can't +perform.'</p> + +<p>"'You know, Madame Moutonnet, +that generally I never attempt any +thing—but to day'——</p> + +<p>"'To day you should have done +as you do on other days,' retorted the +lady.</p> + +<p>"'Ah, but, my love, you forget that +this is Saint Eustache——'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, yes, this is Saint Eustache!' +is repeated in chorus by the whole +company, and the glasses are filled +and jingled as before.</p> + +<p>"'To the health of Eustache; Eustache +for ever!'</p> + +<p>"'To yours, ladies and gentlemen,' +replied M. Moutonnet graciously smiling—'and +yours, my angel.'</p> + +<p>"It is to his wife M. Moutonnet addresses +himself. She tried to assume +an amiable look, and condescends to +approach her glass to that of M. Eustache +Moutonnet. M. Eustache Moutonnet +is a rich laceman of the Rue +St Martin; a man highly respected +<a class="pagenum" name="page369" id="page369" title="page369"></a>in trade; no bill of his was ever protested, +nor any engagement failed in. +For the thirty years he has kept shop +he has been steadily at work from +eight in the morning till eight at night. +His department is to take care of the +day-book and ledger; Madame Moutonnet +manages the correspondence +and makes the bargains. The business +of the shop and the accounts are +confided to an old clerk and Mademoiselle +Eugenie Moutonnet, with +whom we shall presently become better +acquainted.</p> + +<p>"M. Moutonnet, as you may perhaps +already have perceived, is not +commander-in-chief at hone. His +wife directs, rules, and governs all +things. When she is in good-humour—a +somewhat extraordinary occurrence—she +allows her husband to go +and take his little cup of coffee, provided +he goes for that purpose to +the coffee-house at the corner of +the Rue Mauconseil—for it is famous +for its liberal allowance of sugar, and +M. Moutonnet always brings home +three lumps of it to his wife. On +Sundays they dine a little earlier, to +have time for a promenade to the +Tuileries or the Jardin Turk. Excursions +into the country are very +rare, and only on extraordinary occasions, +such as the fête-day of M. and +Madame Moutonnet. That regular +life does not hinder the stout lace-merchant +from being the happiest of +men—so true is it that what is one +man's poison is another man's meat. +M. Moutonnet was born with simple +tastes—she required to be led and +managed like a child. Don't shrug +your shoulders at this avowal, ye +spirited gentlemen, so proud of your +rights, so puffed up with your merits. +You! who think yourselves always +masters of your actions, you yield to +your passions every day! they lead +you, and sometimes lead you very ill. +Well, M. Moutonnet has no fear of +that—he has no passions—he knows +nothing but his trade, and obedience +to his spouse. He finds that a man +can be very happy, though he does +not know how to carve a turkey, and +lets himself be governed by his wife. +Madame Moutonnet is long past forty, +but it is a settled affair that she is +never to be more than thirty-six. She +never was handsome, but she is large +and tall, and her husband is persuaded +she is superb. She is not a coquette, +but she thinks herself superior +to every body else in talents and beauty. +She never cared a rush about her husband, +but if he was untrue to her she +would tear his eyes out. Madame +Moutonnet, you perceive, is excessively +jealous of her rights. A daughter is +the sole issue of the marriage of M. +Eustache Moutonnet and Mademoiselle +Barbe Desormeaux. She is now +eighteen years old, and at eighteen +the young ladies in Paris are generally +pretty far advanced. But Eugenie +has been educated severely—and although +possessed of a good deal of +spirit, is timid, docile, submissive, +and never ventures on a single observation +in presence of her parents. +She has cleverness, grace, and sensibility, +but she is ignorant of the advantages +she has received from nature—her +sentiments are as yet concentrated +at the bottom of her heart. +She is not coquettish—or rather she +scarcely ventures to give way to the +inclination so natural to women, which +leads them to please and to be pretty. +But Eugenie has no need of those +little arts, so indispensable to others, +or to have recourse to her mirror every +hour. She is well made, and she is +beautiful; her eyes are soft and expressive, +her voice is tender and agreeable, +her brow is shadowed by dark +locks of hair, her mouth furnished with +fine white teeth. In short, she has +that nameless something about her, +which charms at first sight, which is +not always possessed by greater beauties +and more regular features. We +now know all the Moutonnet family; +and since we have gone so far, let us +make acquaintance with the rest of +the party who have come to the wood +of Romainville to celebrate the Saint +Eustache.</p> + +<p>"The little woman who rushed so +vigorously to the assistance of M. +Moutonnet, is the wife of a tall gentleman +of the name of Bernard, who +is a toyman in the Rue St Denis. M. +Bernard plays the amiable and the +fool at the same time. He laughs and +quizzes, makes jokes, and even puns; +he is the wit of the party. His wife has +been rather good-looking, and wishes +to be so still. She squeezes in her +waist till she can hardly breathe, and +takes an hour to fit her shoes on—for +she is determined to have a small foot. +Her face is a little too red; but her +eyes are very lively, and she is constantly +<a class="pagenum" name="page370" id="page370" title="page370"></a>trying to give them as mischievous +an expression as she can. +Madame Bernard has a great girl of +fifteen, whom she dresses as if she +were five, and treats occasionally to +a new doll, by way of keeping her a +child. By the side of Madame Bernard +is seated a young man of eighteen, +who is almost as timid as Eugenie, +and blushes when he is spoken +to, though he has stood behind a counter +for six months. He is the son of +a friend of M. Bernard, and his wife +has undertaken to patronize him, and +introduce him to good society.</p> + +<p>"A person of about forty years of +age, with one of those silly countenances +which there is no mistaking at +the first glance, is seated beside Eugenie. +M. Dupont—such is his name—is +a rich grocer of the Rue aux +Ours. He wears powder and a queue, +because he fancies they are becoming, +and his hairdresser has told him +that they are very aristocratic. His +coat of sky-blue, and his jonquil-coloured +waistcoat, give him still more +the appearance of a simpleton, and +agree admirably with the astonished +expression of his gooseberry eyes. He +dangles two watch-chains, that hang +down his nankeen trowsers, with great +satisfaction, and seems struck with admiration +at the wisdom of his own +remarks. He thinks himself captivating +and full of wit. He has the +presumption of ignorance, propped up +by money. Finally, he is a bachelor, +which gives him great consideration +in all the families where there are +marriageable daughters. M. and +Madame Gerard, perfumers in the +Rue St Martin, are also of the party. +The perfumer enacts the gallant gay +Lothario, and in his own district has +the reputation of a prodigious rake, +though he is ugly, and ill-made, and +squints. But he fancies he overcomes +all these drawbacks by covering himself +with odours and perfumes—accordingly, +you smell him half an hour +before he comes in sight. His wife +is young and pretty. She married +him at fifteen, and has a boy of nine, +who looks more like her brother than +her son. The little Gerard hollos +and jumps about, breaks the glasses +and bottles, and makes as much noise +as all the rest of the company put together. +'He's a little lion,' exclaims +M. Gerard; 'he's exactly what I +was. You never could hear yourselves +speak wherever I was, at his age. +People were delighted with me. My +son is my perfect image.'</p> + +<p>"M. Gerard's sister, an old maid of +forty-five, who takes every opportunity +of declaring that she never intends +to marry, and sighs every tine +M. Dupont looks at her, is next to +M. Moutonnet. The old clerk of the +laceman—M. Bidois—who waits for +Madame Moutonnet's permission before +he opens his mouth, and fills his +glass every time she is not looking—is +placed at the side of Mademoiselle +Cecile Gerard; who, though she swears +every minute that she never will +marry, and that she hates the men, +is very ill pleased to have old M. +Bidois for her neighbour, and hints +pretty audibly that Madame Bernard +monopolizes all the young beaux. A +young man of about twenty, tall, +well-made, with handsome features, +whose intelligent expression announces +that he is intended for higher +things than perpetually to be measuring +yards of calico, is seated at the +right hand of Eugenie. That young +man, whose name is Adolphe, is assistant +in a fashionable warehouse +where Madame Moutonnet deals; and +as he always gives good measure, she +has asked him to the fête of St Eustache. +And now we are acquainted +with all the party who are celebrating +the marriage-day of M. Moutonnet."</p> + +<p>We are not going to follow Paul de +Kock in the adventures of all the party +so carefully described to us. Our +object in translating the foregoing +passage, was to enable our readers to +see the manner of people who indulge +in pic-nics in the wood of Romainville, +desiring them to compare M. +Moutonnet and <i>his</i> friends, with any +laceman and <i>his</i> friends he may choose +to fix upon in London. A laceman +as well to do in the world as M. Moutonnet, +a grocer as rich as M. Dupont, +and even a perfumer as fashionable +as M. Gerard, would have a whitebait +dinner at Blackwall, or make up +a party to the races at Epsom—and +as to admitting such a humble servitor +as M. Bidois to their society, or even +the unfriended young mercer's assistant, +M. Adolphe, they would as soon +think of inviting one of the new police. +Five miles from town our three friends +would pass themselves off for lords, +and blow-up the waiter for not making +haste with their brandy and water, in +<a class="pagenum" name="page371" id="page371" title="page371"></a>the most aristocratic manner imaginable. +In France, or at least in Paul +de Kock, there seems no straining after +appearances. The laceman continues +a laceman when he is miles +away from the little back shop; and +even the laceman's lady has no desire +to be mistaken for the wife of a squire. +Madame Moutonnet seems totally unconscious +of the existence of any lady +whatever, superior to herself in rank +or station. The Red Book is to her +a sealed volume. Her envies, hatreds, +friendships, rivalries, and ambitions, +are all limited to her own circle. The +wife of a rich laceman, on the other +hand, in England, most religiously +despises the wives of almost all other +tradesmen; she scarcely knows in +what street the shop is situated, but +from the altitudes of Balham or Hampstead, +looks down with supreme disdain +on the toiling creatures who +stand all day behind a counter. The +husband, in the same way, manages +to cast off every reminiscence of the +shop, in the course of his three miles +in the omnibus, and at six or seven +o'clock you might fancy they were a +duke and duchess, sitting in a gaudily +furnished drawing-room, listening to +two elegant young ladies torturing a +piano, and another still more elegant +young lady severely flogging a harp. +The effect of this, so far as our English +Paul de Kocks are concerned, is, +that their linen-drapers, and lacemen, +and rich perfumers, are represented +assuming a character that does not +belong to them, and aping people +whom they falsely suppose to be their +betters; whereas the genuine Paul +paints the Parisian tradesmen without +any affectation at all. Ours are made +laughable by the common farcical attributes +of all pretensions, great or +small; while real unsophisticated +shopkeeping (French) nature is the +staple of Paul's character-sketches, +and they are more valuable, and in +the end more interesting, accordingly. +Who cares for the exaggerated efforts +of a Manchester warehouseman to be +polished and gentlemanly? It is only +acting after all, and gives us no insight +into his real character, or the character +of his class, any more than Mr +Coates' anxiety to be Romeo enlightened +us as to his disposition in other +respects. The Manchester warehouseman, +though he fails in his attempt +at fashionable parts, may be a very estimable +and pains-taking individual, +and, with the single exception of that +foible, offers nothing to the most careful +observer to distinguish him from +the stupid and respectable in any part +of the world. And in this respect, +any one starting as the chronicler of +citizen life among us, would labour +under a great disadvantage. Whether +our people are phlegmatic, or stupid, +or sensible—all three of which epithets +are generally applicable to the same +individual—or that they have no opportunities +of showing their peculiarities +from the domestic habits of the +animal—it is certain that, however +better they may be qualified for the +business of life than their neighbours, +they are far less fitted for the pages +of a book. And the proof of it is this, +that wherever any of our novelists has +introduced a tradesman, he has either +been an invention altogether, or a caricature. +Even Bailie Nicol Jarvie +never lived in the Saut Market in +half such true flesh and blood as he +does in <i>Rob Roy</i>. At all events, the +inimitable Bailie is known to the universe +at large by the additions made +to his real character by the prodigal +hand of his biographer, and the ridiculous +contrasts in which he is placed +with the caterans and reivers of the +hills. In the city of Glasgow he was +looked upon, and justly, as an honour +to the gude town—consulted on all +difficult matters, and famous for his +knowledge of the world and his natural +sagacity. Would this have been +a fit subject for description? or is it +just to think of the respectable Bailie +in the ridiculous point of view in +which he is presented to us in the +Highlands? How would Sir Peter +Laurie look if he had been taken long +ago by Algerine pirates, and torn, +with all his civic honours thick upon +him, from the magisterial chair, and +made hairdresser to the ladies of the +harem—threatened with the bastinado +for awkwardness in combing, as +he now commits other unfortunate +fellows to the treadmill for crimes +scarcely more enormous? Paul de +Kock derives none of his interest +from odd juxtapositions. He knows +nothing about caves and prisons and +brigands—but he knows every corner +of coffee-houses, and beer-shops, and +ball-rooms. And these ball-rooms +give him the command of another set +of characters, totally unknown to the +English world of fiction, because non-existent +in England. With us, no +<a class="pagenum" name="page372" id="page372" title="page372"></a>shop-boy or apprentice would take +his sweetheart to a public hop at any +of the licenced music-houses. No +decent girl would go there, nor even +any girl that wished to keep up the +appearance of decency. No flirtations, +to end in matrimony, take their +rise between an embryo boot-maker +and a barber's daughter, in the course +of the <i>chaine Anglaise</i> beneath the +trees of the Green Park, or even at +the Yorkshire Stingo. Fathers have +flinty hearts, and the above-mentioned +barber would probably increase +the beauty of his daughter's "bonny +black eye," by giving her another, if +she talked of going to a ball, whether +in a room or the open air. The Puritans +have left their mark. Dancing +is always sinful, and Satan is perpetual +M.C. But let us follow the barber, +or rather hairdresser—for the +mere gleaner of beards is not intended +by the name—into his own amusements. +In Paul de Kock he goes to a +coffee-house, drinks a small cup of coffee, +and pockets the entire sugar; or +to a ball, where he performs all the offices +of a court chamberlain, and captivates +all hearts by his graceful deportment. +His wife, perhaps, goes +with him, and flirts in a very business-like +manner with a tobacconist; +and his daughter is whirled about in +a waltz by Eugene or Adolphe, the +young confectioner, with as much +elegance and decorum as if they were +a young marquis and his bride in the +dancing hall at Devonshire House. +Our English friend goes to enjoy a +pipe, or, if he has lofty notions, a +cigar, and gin and water, at the neighbouring +inn. Or when he determines +on having a night of real rational enjoyment, +he goes to some tavern +where singing is the order of the +evening. A stout man in the chair +knocks on the table, and being the +landlord, makes disinterested enquiries +if every gentleman has a bumper. +He then calls on himself for a song, +and states that he is to be accompanied +on the piano by a distinguished +performer; whereupon, a tall young +man of a moribund expression of +countenance, and with his hair closely +pomatumed over his head, rises, and, +after a low bow, seats himself at the +instrument. The stout man sings, +the young man plays, and thunders +of applause, and various fresh orders +for kidneys and strong ale, and welch +rabbits and cold-without, reward +their exertions. Drinking goes on +for some time, and waiters keep flying +about with dishes of all kinds, and the +hairdresser becomes communicative +to his next neighbour, a butcher from +Whitechapel, and they exchange their +sentiments about kidneys and music +in general, and the kidneys and music +now offered to them in particular. In +a few minutes, a gentleman with a +strange obliquity in his vision, seated +in the middle of the coffee-room, takes +off his hat, and after a thump on the +table from the landlord's hammer, +commences a song so intensely comic, +that when it is over, the orders for +supper and drink are almost unanimous. +The house is now full, the +theatres have discharged their hungry +audiences, and a distinguished +guinea-a-week performer seats himself +in the very next box to the hairdresser. +That worthy gentleman by +this time is stuffed so full of kidneys, +and has drank so many glasses of +brandy and water, that he can scarcely +understand the explanations of the +Whitechapel butcher, who has a great +turn for theatricals, and wishes to treat +the dramatic performer to a tumbler +of gin-twist. Another knock on the +table produces a momentary silence, +and a little man starts off with an extempore +song, where the conviviality +of the landlord, and the goodness of +his suppers, are duly chronicled. The +hairdresser hears a confused buzz of +admiration, and even attempts to join +in it, but thinks it, at last, time to go. +He goes, and narrowly escapes making +the acquaintance of Mr Jardine, +from his extraordinary propensity to +brush all the lamp-posts he encounters +with the shoulder of his coat; and gets +home, to the great comfort of his wife +and daughter, who have gone cozily +off to sleep, in the assurance that their +distinguished relative is safely locked +up in the police-office. The Frenchman, +on the other hand, never gets +into mischief from an overdose of <i>eau +sucrée</i>, though sometimes he certainly +becomes very rombustious from a glass +or two of <i>vin ordinaire</i>; and nothing +astonishes us so much as the small +quantities of small drink which have +an effect on the brains of the steadiest +of the French population. They get +not altogether drunk, but decidedly +very talkative, and often quarrelsome, +on a miserable modicum of their indigenous +small beer, to a degree which +would not be excusable if it were +<a class="pagenum" name="page373" id="page373" title="page373"></a>brandy. We constantly find whole +parties at a pic-nic in a most prodigious +state of excitement after two +rounds of a bottle—jostling the peasants, +and talking more egregious +nonsense than before. And when they +quarrel, what a Babel of words, and +what a quakerism of hands! Instead +of a round or two between the parties, +as it would be in our own pugnacious +disagreements, they merely, when it +comes to the worst, push each other +from side to side, and shout lustily for +the police; and squalling women, and +chattering men, and ignorant country +people, and elegant mercers' apprentices, +and gay-mannered grocers, hustle, +and scream, and swear, and lecture, +and threaten, and bluster—but not a +single blow! The guardian of the +public peace appears, and the combatants +evanish into thin air; and in a +few minutes after this dreadful <i>mêlée</i>, +the violin strikes up a fresh waltz, and +all goes "gaily as a marriage-bell." We +don't say, at the present moment, that +one of these methods of conducting a +quarrel is better than the other, (though +we confess we are rather partial to a +hit in the bread-basket, or a tap on the +claret-cork)—all we mean to advance +is, that with the materials to work +upon, Paul de Kock, as a faithful +describer of real scenes, has a manifest +advantage over the describer of English +incidents of a parallel kind.</p> + +<p>The affectations of a French cit, +when that nondescript animal condescends +to be affected, are more varied +and interesting than those of their +brethren here. He has a taste for the +fine arts—he talks about the opera—likes +to know artists and authors—and, +though living up five or six pairs of +stairs in a narrow lane, gives <i>soirées</i> +and <i>conversazionés</i>. More ludicrous all +this, and decidedly less disgusting, +than the assumptions of our man-milliners +and fishmongers. There is +short sketch by Paul de Kock, called +a <i>Soirée Bourgeoise</i>, which we translate +entire, as an illustration of this +curious phase of French character; +and we shall take an early opportunity +of bringing before our readers +the essays of the daily feuilletonists of +the Parisian press, which give a clearer +insight into the peculiarities of French +domestic literature than can be acquired +in any other quarter.</p> + +<h3>A CIT'S SOIREE.</h3> + +<p>Lights were observed some time +ago, in the four windows of an apartment +on the second floor of a house in +the Rue Grenetat. It was not quite +so brilliant as the Cercle des Etrangers, +but still it announced something. +These four windows, with lights glancing +in them all, had an air of rejoicing, +and the industrious inhabitants of +the Rue Grenetat, who don't generally +go to much expense for illumination, +even in their shops, looked at the four +windows which eclipsed the street +lamps in their brilliancy, and said, +"There's certainly something very +extraordinary going on this evening +at M. Lupot's!" M. Lupot is an +honest tradesman, who has retired +from business some time. After having +sold stationary for thirty years, +without ever borrowing of a neighbour, +or failing in a payment, M. +Lupot, having scraped together an +income of three hundred and twenty +pounds, disposed of his stock in trade, +and closed his ledger, to devote himself +entirely to the pleasures of domestic +life with his excellent spouse, +Madam Felicité Lupot—a woman of +an amazingly apathetic turn of mind, +who did admirably well in the shop +as long as she had only to give change +for half-crowns, but whose abilities +extended no further. But this had not +prevented her from making a very +good wife to her husband, (which +proves that much talent is not required +for that purpose,) and presenting +him with a daughter and a son.</p> + +<p>The daughter was the eldest, and +had attained her seventeenth year; +and M. Lupot, who spared nothing +on her education, did not despair of +finding a husband for her with a soul +above sticks of sealing-wax and wafers—more +especially as it was evident +she had no turn for trade, and believed +she had a decided genius for the +fine arts—for she had painted her father +as a shepherd with his crook, +when she was only twelve, and had +learned a year after to play "Je suis +Lindore" by ear on the piano. M. +Lupot was proud of his daughter, +who was thus a painter and a musician; +who was a foot taller than her +papa; who held herself as upright as +a Prussian grenadier; who made a +<a class="pagenum" name="page374" id="page374" title="page374"></a>curtsy like Taglioni, who had a Roman +nose three times the size of +other people's, a mouth to match, and +eyes so arch and playful, that it was +difficult to discover them. The boy +was only seven; he was allowed to do +whatever he chose—he was so very +young; and Monsieur Ascanius +availed himself of the permission, and +was in mischief from morning to +night. His father was too fond of +him to scold him, and his mother +wouldn't take the trouble to get into +a passion.</p> + +<p>Well, then, one morning M. Lupot +soliloquized—"I have a good fortune, +a charming family, and a wife who has +never been in a rage; but all this does +not lead to a man's being invited, +courted, and made much of in the +world. Since I have cut the hotpress-wove +and red sealing-wax, I have seen +nobody but a few friends—retired +tradesmen like myself—who drop in +to take a hand at <i>vingt-et-un</i>, or loto; +but I wish more than that—my daughter +must not live in so narrow a circle; +my daughter has a decided turn for the +arts; I ought to have artists to my +house. I will give soirées, tea-parties—yes, +with punch at parting, if it be +necessary. We shall play <i>bouillote</i> +and <i>écarte</i>, for my daughter can't endure +loto. Indeed, I wish to set people +talking about my re-unions, and to +find a husband for Celanire worthy of +her." M. Lupot was seated near his +wife, who was seated on an elastic +sofa, and was caressing a cat on her +knee. He said to her—</p> + +<p>"My dear Felicité, I intend to give +soirées—to receive lots of company. +We live in too confined a sphere for +our daughter, who was born for the +arts—and for Ascanius, who, it strikes +me, will make some noise in the +world."</p> + +<p>Madame Lupot continued to caress +the cat, and replied, "Well, what have +I to do with that? Do I hinder you +from receiving company? If it doesn't +cause me any trouble—for I must tell +you first of all, you musn't count on me +to help you"—</p> + +<p>"You will have nothing at all to +do, my dear Felicité, but the honours +of the house."</p> + +<p>"I must be getting up every minute"—</p> + +<p>"You do it so gracefully," replied +the husband—"I will give all the orders, +and Celanire will second me."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle was enchanted with +the intention of her sire, and threw her +arms round his neck.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! papa," she said, "invite +as many as you can, I will learn to +play some country-dances that we +may have a ball, and finish my head +of Belisarius—you must get it framed +for the occasion."</p> + +<p>And the little Ascanius whooped +and hollo'd in the middle of the room. +"I shall have tea and punch and +cakes. I'll eat every thing!"</p> + +<p>After this conversation M. Lupot +had set to work. He went to his +friends and his friends' friends—to +people he hardly knew, and invited +them to his party, begging them to +bring any body with them they liked. +M. Lupot had formerly sold rose-coloured +paper to a musician, and drawing +pencils to an artist. He went to +his ancient customers, and pressed them +to come and to bring their professional +friends with them. In short, M. +Lupot was so prodigiously active that +in four days he had run through nearly +the whole of Paris, caught an immense +cold, and spent seven shillings +in cab hire. Giving an entertainment +has its woes as well as its pleasures.</p> + +<p>The grand day, or rather the +grand evening, at last arrived. All +the lamps were lighted, and they had +even borrowed some from their neighbours; +for Celanire had discovered +that their own three lamps did not +give light enough both for the public-room +and the supper-room—(which +on ordinary occasions was a bed-chamber.) +It was the first time that +M. Lupot had borrowed any thing—but +also it was the first time that M. +Lupot gave a soirée.</p> + +<p>From the dawn of day M. Lupot +was busy in preparation: He had +ordered in cakes and refreshments; +bought sundry packs of cards, brushed +the tables, and tucked up the curtains. +Madame Lupot had sat all the time +quietly on the sofa, ejaculating from +time to time, "I'm afraid 'twill be a +troublesome business all this receiving +company."</p> + +<p>Celanire had finished her Belisarius, +who was an exact likeness of +Blue Beard, and whom they had honoured +with a Gothic frame, and +placed in a conspicuous part of the +room. Mademoiselle Lupot was dressed +with amazing care. She had a +new gown, her hair plaited <i>à la Clotilde</i>. +All this must make a great +<a class="pagenum" name="page375" id="page375" title="page375"></a>sensation. Ascanius was rigged out +in his best; but this did not hinder +him from kicking up a dust in the +room, from getting up on the furniture, +handling the cards, and taking +them to make houses; from opening +the cupboards, and laying his fingers +on the cakes.</p> + +<p>Sometimes M. Lupot's patience +gave way, and he cried, "Madame, I +beg you'll make your son be quiet." +But Madame Lupot answered without +turning her head, "Make him quiet +yourself, M. Lupot—You know very +well it's <i>your</i> business to manage him."</p> + +<p>It was now eight o'clock, and nobody +was yet arrived. Mademoiselle +looked at her father, who looked at +his wife, who looked at her cat. The +father of the family muttered every +now and then—"Are we to have our +grand soirée all to ourselves?" And +he cast doleful looks on his lamps, his +tables, and all his splendid preparations. +Mademoiselle Celanire sighed +and looked at her dress, and then +looked in the mirror. Madame Lupot +was as unmoved as ever, and said, +"Is this what we've turned every +thing topsy-turvy for?" As for little +Ascanius, he jumped about the room, +and shouted, "If nobody comes, what +lots of cakes we shall have!" At last +the bell rang. It is a family from the +Rue St Denis, retired perfumers, who +have only retained so much of their +ancient profession, that they cover +themselves all over with odours. +When they enter the room, you feel +as if a hundred scent-bottles were +opened at once. There is such a smell +of jasmine and vanille, that you have +good luck if you get off without a +headache. Other people drop in. M. +Lupot does not know half his guests, +for many of them are brought by +others, and even these he scarcely +knows the names of. But he is enchanted +with every thing. A young +fashionable is presented to him by +some unknown third party, who says, +"This is one of our first pianists, who +is good enough to give up a great concert +this evening to come here." The +next is a famous singer, a lion in musical +parties, who is taken out every +where, and who will give one of his +latest compositions, though unfortunately +labouring under a cold. This +man won the first prize at the Conservatory, +an unfledged Boildieu, who +will be a great composer of operas—when +he can get librettos to his music, +and music to his librettos. The next +is a painter. He has shown at the +exhibition—he has had wonderful success. +To be sure nobody bought his +pictures, because he didn't wish to +sell them to people that couldn't appreciate +them. In short, M. Lupot +sees nobody in his rooms that is not +first-rate in some way or other. He +is delighted with the thought—ravished, +transported. He can't find words +enough to express his satisfaction at +having such geniuses in his house. For +their sakes he neglects his old friends—he +scarcely speaks to them. It seems +the new-comers, people he has never +seen before, are the only people worthy +of his attentions. Madame Lupot is +tired of getting up, curtsying, and +sitting down again. But her daughter +is radiant with joy; her husband goes +from room to room, rubbing his hands, +as if he had bought all Paris, and got +it a bargain. And little Ascanius +never comes out of the bed-room +without his mouth full. But it is not +enough to invite a large party; you +must know how to amuse them; it is +a thing which very few people have +the art of, even those most accustomed +to have soirées. In some you +get tired, and you are in great ceremony; +you must restrict yourself to +a conversation that is neither open, +nor friendly, nor amusing. In others, +you are pestered to death by the amphitryon, +who is perhaps endowed +with the bump of music, and won't +leave the piano for fear some one else +should take his place. There are +others fond of cards, who only ask +their friends that they may make up +a table. Such individuals care for +nothing but the game, and don't +trouble themselves whether the rest +of their guests are amused or not. +Ah! there are few homes that know +how to receive their company, or +make every body pleased. It requires +a tact, a cleverness, an absence of +self, which must surely be very unusual +since we see so few specimens +of them in the soirées we attend.</p> + +<p>M. Lupot went to and fro—from +the reception-room to the bed-chamber, +and back again—he smiled, he +bowed, and rubbed his hands. But +the new-comers, who had not come to +his house to see him smile and rub his +hands, began to say, in very audible +whispers, "Ah, well, do people pass +the whole night here looking at each +other? Very delightful—very!"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page376" id="page376" title="page376"></a>M. Lupot has tried to start a conversation +with a big man in spectacles, +with a neckcloth of great dimensions, +and who makes extraordinary faces as +he looks round on the company. M. +Lupot has been told, that the gentleman +with the large neckcloth is a literary +man, and that he will probably be +good enough to read or recite some +lines of his own composition. The +ancient stationer coughs three times +before venturing to address so distinguished +a character, but says at last—"Enchanted +to see at my house a +gentleman so—an author of such——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you're the host here, are you?—the +master of the house?"—said +the man in the neckcloth.</p> + +<p>"I flatter myself I am—with my +wife, of course—the lady on the sofa—you +see her? My daughter, sir—she's +the tall young lady, so upright in +her figure. She designs, and has an +excellent touch on the piano. I have +a son also—a little fiend—it was he +who crept this minute between my legs—he's +an extraordinary clev——"</p> + +<p>"There is one thing, sir," replied +the big man, "that I can't comprehend—a +thing that amazes me—and +that is, that people who live in the +Rue Grenetat should give parties. +It is a miserable street—a horrid street—covered +eternally with mud—choked +up with cars—a wretched part of the +town, dirty, noisy, pestilential—bah!"</p> + +<p>"And yet, sir, for thirty years I have +lived here."</p> + +<p>"Oh Lord, sir, I should have died +thirty times over! When people live +in the Rue Grenetat they should give +up society, for you'll grant it is a regular +trap to seduce people into such +an abominable street. I"——</p> + +<p>M. Lupot gave up smiling and rubbing +his hands. He moves off from +the big man in the spectacles, whose +conversation had by no means amused +him, and he goes up to a group of +young people who seem examining the +Belisarius of Mademoiselle Celanire.</p> + +<p>"They're admiring my daughter's +drawing," said M. Lupot to himself; +"I must try to overhear what these +artists are saying." The young people +certainly made sundry remarks +on the performance, plentifully intermixed +with sneers of a very unmistakable +kind.</p> + +<p>"Can you make out what the head +is meant for?"</p> + +<p>"Not I. I confess I never saw any +thing so ridiculous."</p> + +<p>"It's Belisarius, my dear fellow."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!—it's the portrait of +some grocer, some relation, probably, of +the family—look at the nose—the +mouth—"</p> + +<p>"It is intolerable folly to put a frame +to such a daub."</p> + +<p>"They must be immensely silly."</p> + +<p>"Why, it isn't half so good as the +head of the Wandering Jew at the top +of a penny ballad."</p> + +<p>M. Lupot has heard enough. He +slips off from the group without a +word, and glides noiselessly to the piano. +The young performer who had +sacrificed a great concert to come to +his soirée, had sat down to the instrument +and run his fingers over the +notes.</p> + +<p>"What a spinnet!" he cried—"what +a wretched kettle! How can you expect +a man to perform on such a miserable +instrument? The thing is absurd—hear +this A—hear this G—it's like a hurdygurdy—not +one note of it in tune!" But +the performer stayed at the piano notwithstanding, +and played incessantly, +thumping the keys with such tremendous +force, that every minute a chord +snapped; when such a thing happened—he +burst into a laugh, and said, +"Good! there's another gone—there +will soon be none left."</p> + +<p>M. Lupot flushed up to the ears. +He felt very much inclined to say to +the celebrated performer, "Sir, I +didn't ask you here to break all the +chords of my piano. Let the instrument +alone if you don't like it, but +don't hinder other people from playing +on it for our amusement."</p> + +<p>But the good M. Lupot did not venture +on so bold a speech, which would +have been a very sensible speech nevertheless; +and he stood quietly while +his chords were getting smashed, +though it was by no means a pleasant +thing to do.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Celanire goes up to +her father. She is distressed at the +way her piano is treated; she has no +opportunity of playing her air; but +she hopes to make up for it by singing +a romance, which one of their old +neighbours is going to accompany on +the guitar.</p> + +<p>It is not without some difficulty that +M. Lupot obtains silence for his daughter's +song. At sight of the old neighbour +and his guitar a smothered laugh +is visible in the assembly. It is undeniable +that the gentleman is not unlike +a respectable Troubadour with a barrel +<a class="pagenum" name="page377" id="page377" title="page377"></a>organ, and that his guitar is like an +ancient harp. There is great curiosity +to hear the old gentleman touch his +instrument. He begins by beating +time with his feet and his head, which +latter movement gives him very much +the appearance of a mandarin that you +sometimes see on a mantelpiece. Nevertheless +Mademoiselle Lupot essays +her ballad; but she can never manage +to overtake her accompanier, who, instead +of following the singer, seems +determined to make no alteration in +the movement of his head and feet. +The ballad is a failure—Celanire is confused, +she has mistaken her notes—she +loses her recollection; and, instead of +hearing his daughter's praises, M. Lupot +overhears the young people whispering—"It +wouldn't do in a beer-shop."</p> + +<p>"I must order in the tea," thought +the ex-stationer—"it will perhaps put +them into good-humour."</p> + +<p>And M. Lupot rushes off to give +instructions to the maid; and that old +individual, who has never seen such a +company before, does not know how to +get on, and breaks cups and saucers +without mercy, in the effort to make +haste.</p> + +<p>"Nannette, have you got ready the +other things you were to bring in with +the tea?—the muffins—the cakes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir"—replied Nannette—"all +is ready—every thing will be in in a moment."</p> + +<p>"But there is another thing I told +you, Nannette—the sandwiches."</p> + +<p>"The witches, sir?—the sand?"—enquired +the puzzled Nannette.</p> + +<p>"It is an English dish—I explained +it to you before—slices of bread and +butter, with ham between."</p> + +<p>"Oh la, sir!" exclaimed the maid—"I +have forgotten that ragoût—oh dear!"</p> + +<p>"Well—make haste, Nannette; get +ready some immediately, while my +daughter hands round the tea and +muffins—you can bring them in on a +tray."</p> + +<p>The old domestic hurries into the +kitchen grumbling at the English dainty, +and cuts some slices of bread and +covers them with butter; but as she +had never thought of the ham, she cogitates +a long time how she can supply +the want of it—at last, on looking +round, she discovers a piece of beef +that had been left at dinner.</p> + +<p>"Pardieu," she says, "I'll cut some +lumps of this and put them on the +bread. With plenty of salt they'll +pass very well for ham—they'll drive +me wild with their English dishes—they +will."</p> + +<p>The maid speedily does as she says, +and then hurries into the room with a +tray covered with her extempore ham +sandwiches.</p> + +<p>Every body takes one,—for they +have grown quite fashionable along +with tea. But immediately there is an +universal murmur in the assembly. +The ladies throw their slices into the +fire, the gentlemen spit theirs on the +furniture, and they cry—"why the +devil do people give us things like these?—they're +detestable."</p> + +<p>"It's my opinion, God forgive me! +the man means to feed us with scraps +from the pig-trough," says another.</p> + +<p>"It's a regular do, this soirée," says +a third.</p> + +<p>"The tea is disgustingly smoked," +says a fourth.</p> + +<p>"And all the little cakes look as if +they had been fingered before," says +the fifth.</p> + +<p>"Decidedly they wish to poison us," +says the big man in the neckcloth, +looking very morose.</p> + +<p>M. Lupot is in despair. He goes +in search of Nannette, who has hidden +herself in the kitchen; and he busies +himself in gathering up the fragments +of the bread and butter from the floor +and the fireplace.</p> + +<p>Madame Lupot says nothing; but +she is in very bad humour, for she has +put on a new cap, which she felt sure +would be greatly admired; and a lady +has come to her and said—</p> + +<p>"Ah, madame, what a shocking +head-dress!—your cap is very old-fashioned—those +shapes are quite gone +out."</p> + +<p>"And yet, madame," replies Madame +Lupot, "I bought it, not two +days ago, in the Rue St Martin."</p> + +<p>"Well, madame—Is that the street +you go to for the fashions? Go to +Mademoiselle Alexina Larose Carrefous +Gaillon—you'll get delicious caps +there—new fashions and every thing +so tasteful: for Heaven's sake, madame, +never put on that cap again. You +look, at least, a hundred."</p> + +<p>"It's worth one's while, truly," +thought Madame Lupot, "to tire one's +self to death receiving people, to be +treated to such pretty compliments."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page378" id="page378" title="page378"></a>Her husband, in the meanwhile, +continued his labours in pursuit of the +rejected sandwiches.</p> + +<p>The big man in spectacles, who +wondered that people could live in the +Rue Grenetat, had no idea, nevertheless, +of coming there for nothing. He +has seated himself in an arm-chair in +the middle of the room, and informs +the company that he is going to repeat +a few lines of his own to them.—The +society seems by no means enchanted +with the announcement, but forms itself +in a circle, to listen to the poet. +He coughs and spits, wipes his mouth, +tales a pinch of snuff, sneezes, has +the lamps raised, the doors shut, asks +a tumbler of sugar and water, and +passes his hand through his hair. +After continuing these operations for +some minutes, the literary man at last +begins. He spouts his verses in a +voice enough to break the glasses; before +he has spoken a minute, he has +presented a tremendous picture of +crimes, and deaths, and scaffolds, sufficient +to appal the stoutest hearts, when +suddenly a great crash from the inner +room attracts universal attention. It +is the young Ascanius, who was trying +to get a muffin on the top of a pile of +dishes, and has upset the table, with +muffin, and dishes, and all on his own +head. M. Lupot runs off to ascertain +the cause of the dreadful cries of his +son; the company follow him, not a +little rejoiced to find an excuse for +hearing no more of the poem; and the +poet, deprived in this way of an audience, +gets up in a furious passion, +takes his hat, and rushes from the +room, exclaiming—"It serves me +right. How could I have been fool +enough to recite good verses in the +Rue Grenetat!"</p> + +<p>Ascanius is brought in and roars +lustily, for two of the dishes have been +broken on his nose; and as there is +no chance now, either of poetry or +music, the party have recourse to +cards—for it is impossible to sit all night +and do nothing.</p> + +<p>They make up a table at <i>bouillote</i>, +and another at <i>ecarté</i>. M. Lupot +takes his place at the latter. He is +forced to cover all the bets when his +side refuses; and M. Lupot, who +never played higher than shilling +stakes in his life, is horrified when they +tell him—"You must lay down fifteen +francs to equal our stakes."</p> + +<p>"Fifteen francs!" says M. Lupot, +"what is the meaning of all this?"</p> + +<p>"It means, that you must make up +the stakes of your side, to what we +have put down on this. The master +of the house is always expected to +make up the difference."</p> + +<p>M. Lupot dare not refuse. He lays +down his fifteen francs and loses them; +next game the deficiency is twenty. +In short, in less than half an hour, the +ex-stationer loses ninety francs. His +eyes start out of his head—he scarcely +knows where he is; and to complete +his misery, the opposite party, in lifting +up the money they have won, upset +one of the lamps he had borrowed +from his neighbours, and smashed it +into fifty pieces.</p> + +<p>At last the hour of separation comes. +The good citizen has been anxious for +it for a long time. All his gay company +depart, without even wishing +good-night to the host who has exerted +himself so much for their entertainment. +The family of the Lupots are +left alone; Madame, overcome with +fatigue, and vexed because her cap had +been found fault with; Celanire, with +tears in her eyes, because her music +and Belisarius had been laughed at; +and Ascanius sick and ill, because he +has nearly burst himself with cakes and +muffins; M. Lupot was, perhaps, the +unhappiest of all, thinking of his ninety +francs and the broken lamp. Old Annette +gathered up the crumbs of the +sandwiches, and muttered—"Do they +think people make English dishes to +have them thrown into the corners of +the room?"</p> + +<p>"It's done," said M. Lupot; "I +shall give no more soirées. I begin to +think I was foolish in wishing to leave +my own sphere. When people of the +same class lark and joke each other, +it's all very well; but when you meddle +with your superiors, and they are +uncivil, it hurts your feelings. Their +mockery is an insult, and you don't +get over it soon. My dear Celanire, +I shall decidedly try to marry you to a +stationer."</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<a name="bw329s8" id="bw329s8"></a> +<a class="pagenum" name="page379" id="page379" title="page379"></a> +<h2>THE WORLD OF LONDON. SECOND SERIES. PART III.</h2> + +<h3>THE ARISTOCRACIES OF LONDON LIFE.</h3> + +<h3>OF GENTILITY-MONGERING.</h3> + +<p>The HEAVY SWELL was recorded in +our last for the admiration and instruction +of remote ages. When the nineteenth +century shall be long out of date, +and centuries in general out of their +<i>teens</i>, posterity will revert to our delineation +of the heavy swell with pleasure +undiminished, through the long +succession of ages yet to come; the +macaroni, the fop, the dandy, will be +forgotten, or remembered only in our +graphic portraiture of the heavy swell. +But the heavy swell is, after all, a +harmless nobody. His curse, his besetting +sin, his <i>monomania</i>, is vanity tinctured +with pride: his weak point can +hardly be called a crime, since it affects +and injures nobody but himself, if, indeed, +it can be said to injure him who +glories in his vocation—who is the +echo of a sound, the shadow of a shade.</p> + +<p>The GENTILITY-MONGERS, on the contrary, +are positively noxious to society, +as well particular as general. There +is a twofold or threefold iniquity in +their goings-on; they sin against society, +their families, and themselves; +the whole business of their lives is a +perversion of the text of Scripture, +which commandeth us, "in whatever +station we are, therewith to be content."</p> + +<p>The gentility-monger is a family +man, having a house somewhere in +Marylebone, or Pancras parish. He is +sometimes a man of independent fortune—how +acquired, nobody knows; +that is his secret, his mystery. He will +let no one suppose that he has ever +been in trade; because, when a man +intends gentility-mongering, it must +never be known that he has formerly +carried on the tailoring, or the shipping, +or the cheese-mongering, or the +fish-mongering, or any other mongering +than the gentility-mongering. His +house is very stylishly furnished; that +is to say, as unlike the house of a man +of fashion as possible—the latter having +only things the best of their kind, and +for use; the former displaying every +variety of extravagant gimcrackery, +to impress you with a profound idea of +combined wealth and taste, but which, +to an educated eye and mind only, conveys +a lively idea of ostentation. When +you call upon a gentility-monger, a +broad-shouldered, coarse, ungentlemanlike +footman, in Aurora plushes, +ushers you to a drawing-room, where, +on tables round, and square, and hexagonal, +are set forth jars, porcelain, +china, and delft; shells, spars; stuffed +parrots under bell-glasses; corals, minerals, +and an infinity of trumpery, +among which albums, great, small, and +intermediate, must by no means be +forgotten.</p> + +<p>The room is papered with some +<i>splendacious</i> pattern in blue and gold; +a chandelier of imposing gingerbread +depends from the richly ornamented +ceiling; every variety of ottoman, +lounger, settee, is scattered about, so +that to get a chair involves the right-of-search +question; the bell-pulls are +painted in Poonah; there is a Brussels +carpet of flaming colours, curtains with +massive fringes, bad pictures in gorgeous +frames; prints, after Ross, of +her Majesty and Prince Albert, of +course; and mezzotints of the Duke of +Wellington and Sir Robert Peel, for +whom the gentility-monger has a profound +respect, and of whom he talks +with a familiarity showing that it is +not <i>his</i> fault, at least, if these exalted +personages do not admit him to the +honour of their acquaintance.</p> + +<p>In fact, you see the drawing-room is +not intended for sitting down in, and +when the lady appears, you are inclined +to believe she never sits down; at least +the full-blown swell of that satin skirt +seems never destined to the compression +of a chair. The conversation is +as usual—"Have you read the morning +paper?"—meaning the Court Circular +and fashionable intelligence; "do you +know whether the Queen is at Windsor +or Claremont, and how long her Majesty +intends to remain; whether town is +fuller than it was, or not so full; when +the next Almacks' ball takes place; +whether you were at the last drawing-room, +and which of the fair <i>debutantes</i> +you most admire; whether Tamburini +is to be denied us next year?" with many +<a class="pagenum" name="page380" id="page380" title="page380"></a>lamentations touching the possible defection, +as if the migrations of an +opera thrush were of the least consequence +to any rational creature—of +course you don't say so, but lament +Tamburini as if he were your father; +"whether it is true that we are to have +the two Fannies, Taglioni and Cerito, +this season; and what a heaven of delight +we shall experience from the united +action of these twenty supernatural +pettitoes." You needn't express yourself +after this fashion, else you will +shock miss, who lounges near you in +an agony of affected rapture: you must +sigh, shrug your shoulders, twirl your +cane, and say "divine—yes—hope it +may be so—exquisite—<i>exquisite</i>." This +naturally leads you to the last new +songs, condescendingly exhibited to you +by miss, if you are <i>somebody</i>, (if <i>nobody</i>, +miss does not appear;) you are +informed that "<i>My heart is like a +pickled salmon</i>" is dedicated to the +Duchess of Mundungus, and thereupon +you are favoured with sundry passages +(out of Debrett) upon the intermarriages, +&c., of that illustrious family; +you are asked whether Bishop is the +composer of "<i>I saw her in a twinkling</i>," +and whether the <i>minor</i> is not fine? +Miss tells you she has transposed it +from G to C, as suiting her voice better—whereupon +mamma acquaints you, +that a hundred and twenty guineas for +a harp is moderate, she thinks; you +think so too, taking that opportunity +to admire the harp, saying that you +saw one exactly like it at Lord (any +Lord that strikes you) So-and-So's, in +St James's Square. This produces an +invitation to dinner; and with many +lamentations on English weather, and +an eulogium on the climate of Florence, +you pay your parting compliments, +and take your leave.</p> + +<p>At dinner you meet a claret-faced +Irish absentee, whose good society is a +good dinner, and who is too happy to +be asked any where that a good dinner +is to be had; a young silky clergyman, +in black curled whiskers, and a +white <i>choker</i>; one of the meaner fry +of M.P.'s; a person who <i>calls himself</i> a +foreign count; a claimant of a dormant +peerage; a baronet of some sort, not +above the professional; sundry propriety-faced +people in yellow waistcoats, +who say little, and whose social +position you cannot well make out; +half-a-dozen ladies of an uncertain age, +dressed in grand style, with turbans of +imposing <i>tournure</i>; and a young, diffident, +equivocal-looking gent who sits +at the bottom of the table, and whom +you instinctively make out to be a +family doctor, tutor, or nephew, with +expectations. No young ladies, unless +the young ladies of the family, appear +at the dinner-parties of these gentility-mongers; +because the motive of the +entertainment is pride, not pleasure; +and therefore prigs and frumps are in +keeping, and young women with brains, +or power of conversation, would only +distract attention from the grand business +of life, that is to say, dinner; besides, +a seat at table here is an object, +where the expense is great, and nobody +is asked for his or her own sake, but +for an object either of ostentation, interest, +or vanity. Hospitality never +enters into the composition of a gentility-monger: +he gives a dinner, wine, +and a shake of the hand, but does not +know what the word <i>welcome</i> means: +he says, now and then, to his wife +"My dear, I think we must give a +dinner;" a dinner is accordingly determined +on, cards issued three weeks +in advance, that you may be premeditatedly +dull; the dinner is gorgeous to +repletion, that conversation may be +kept as stagnant as possible. Of those +happy surprize invitations—those unexpected +extemporaneous dinners, that +as they come without thinking or +expectation, so go off with <i>eclat</i>, and +leave behind the memory of a cheerful +evening—he has no idea; a man of +fashion, whose place is fixed, and who +has only himself to please, will ask +you to a slice of crimped cod and a +hash of mutton, without ceremony; +and when he puts a cool bottle on the +table, after a dinner that he and his +friend have really enjoyed, will never +so much as apologize with, "my dear +sir, I fear you have had a wretched +dinner," or "I wish I had known: I +should have had something better." +This affected depreciation of his hospitality +he leaves to the gentility-monger, +who will insist on cramming you with +fish, flesh, and fowls, till you are like +to burst; and then, by way of apology, +get his guests to pay the reckoning in +plethoric laudation of his mountains +of victual.</p> + +<p>If you wait in the drawing-room, +kicking your heels for an hour after +the appointed time, although you arrived +to a <i>minute</i>, as every Christian +does, you may be sure that somebody +<a class="pagenum" name="page381" id="page381" title="page381"></a>who patronizes the gentility-monger, +probably the Honourable Mr Sniftky, +is expected, and has not come. It is +vain for you to attempt to talk to your +host, hostess, or miss, who are absorbed, +body and soul, in expectation of Honourable +Sniftky; the propriety-faced +people in the yellow waistcoats attitudinize +in groups about the room, +putting one pump out, drawing the +other in, inserting the thumb gracefully +in the arm-hole of the yellow +waistcoats, and talking <i>icicles</i>; the +young fellows play with a sprig of lily-of-the-valley +in a button-hole—admire +a flowing portrait of miss, asking one +another if it is not very like—or hang +over the back of a chair of one of the +turbaned ladies, who gives good evening +parties; the host receives a great many +compliments upon one thing and +another, from some of the professed +diners-out, who take every opportunity +of paying for their dinner beforehand; +every body freezes with the chilling +sensation of dinner deferred, and +"curses, not loud but deep," are imprecated +on the Honourable Sniftky. +At last, a prolonged <i>rat-tat-tat</i> announces +the arrival of the noble beast, +the lion of the evening; the Honourable +Sniftky, who is a junior clerk in +the Foreign Office, is announced by +the footman out of livery, (for the day,) +and announces himself a minute after: +he comes in a long-tailed coat and +boots, to show his contempt for his +entertainers, and mouths a sort of apology +for keeping his betters waiting, +which is received by the gentility-monger, +his lady, and miss, with nods, +and becks, and wreathed smiles of unqualified +admiration and respect.</p> + +<p>As the order of precedence at the +house of a gentility-monger is not +strictly understood, the host desires +Honourable Sniftky to take down miss; +and calling out the names of the other +guests, like muster-master of the +guards, pairs them, and sends them +down to the dining-room, where you +find the nephew, or family doctor, (or +whatever he is,) who has inspected the +arrangement of the table, already in +waiting.</p> + +<p>You take your place, not without +that excess of ceremony that distinguishes +the table of a gentility-monger; +the Honourable Sniftky, <i>ex-officio</i>, +takes his place between mamma +and miss, glancing vacancy round the +table, lest any body should think himself +especially honoured by a fixed +stare; covers are removed by the mob +of occasional waiters in attendance, +and white soup and brown soup, thick +and heavy as judges of assize, go circuit.</p> + +<p>Then comes hobnobbing, with an +interlocutory dissertation upon a <i>plateau, +candelabrum</i>, or some other superfluous +machine, in the centre of the +table. One of the professed diners-out, +discovers for the twentieth time an +inscription in dead silver on the pedestal, +and enquires with well-affected +ignorance whether that is a <i>present</i>; +the gentility-monger asks the diner-out +to wine, as he deserves, then enters +into a long apologetical self-laudation +of his exertions in behalf of the CANNIBAL +ISLANDS, ABORIGINES, PROTECTION, +AND BRITISH SUBJECT TRANSPORTATION +SOCIETY, (some emigration +crimping scheme, in short,) in which +his humble efforts to diffuse civilization +and promote Christianity, however unworthy, +("No, no!" from the diner-out,) +gained the esteem of his fellow-labourers, +and the approbation of his +own con——"Shall I send you some +fish, sir?" says the man at the foot of +the table, addressing himself to the +Honourable Sniftky, and cutting short +the oration.</p> + +<p>A monstrous salmon and a huge +turbot are now dispensed to the hungry +multitude; the gentility-monger +has no idea that the biggest turbot is +not the best; he knows it is the <i>dearest</i>, +and that is enough for him; he +would have his dishes like his cashbook, +to show at a glance how much +he has at his banker's. When the +flesh of the guests has been sufficiently +fishified, there is an <i>interregnum</i>, filled +up with another circuit of wine, until +the arrival of the <i>pièces de resistance</i>, +the imitations of made dishes, and +the usual <i>etceteras</i>. The conversation, +meanwhile, is carried on in a <i>staccato</i> +style; a touch here, a hit there, a miss +almost every where; the Honourable +Sniftky turning the head of mamma +with affected compliments, and hobnobbing +to himself without intermission. +After a sufficiently tedious interval, +the long succession of wasteful +extravagance is cleared away with the +upper tablecloth; the dowagers, at a +look from our hostess, rise with dignity +and decorously retire, miss modestly +bringing up the rear—the man at the +foot of the table with the handle of the +<a class="pagenum" name="page382" id="page382" title="page382"></a>door in one hand, and a napkin in the +other, bowing them out.</p> + +<p>Now the host sings out to the Honourable +Sniftky to draw his chair +closer and be jovial, as if people, after +an oppressively expensive dinner, can +be jovial <i>to order</i>. The wine goes +round, and laudations go with it; the +professed diners-out enquire the +vintage; the Honourable Mr Sniftky intrenches +himself behind a rampart of +fruit dishes, speaking only when he is +spoken to, and glancing inquisitively +at the several speakers, as much as to +say, "What a fellow you are, to talk;" +the host essays a <i>bon-mot</i>, or tells a +story bordering on the <i>ideal</i>, which he +thinks is fashionable, and shows that +he knows life; the Honourable Sniftky +drinks claret from a beer-glass, and +after the third bottle affects to discover +his mistake, wondering what he +could be thinking of; this produces +much laughter from all save the professed +diners-out, who dare not take +such a liberty, and is <i>the</i> jest of the +evening.</p> + +<p>When the drinkers, drinkables, and +talk are quite exhausted, the noise of a +piano recalls to our bewildered +recollections the ladies, and we drink their +healths: the Honourable Sniftky, pretending +that it is foreign-post night at +the Foreign Office, walks off without +even a bow to the assembled diners, the +gentility-monger following him submissively +to the door; then returning, +tells us that he's sorry Sniftky's gone, +he's such a good-natured fellow, while +the gentleman so characterized gets +into his cab, drives to his club, and +excites the commiseration of every +body there, by relating how he was +bored with an old <i>ruffian</i>, who insisted +upon his (Sniftky's) going to dinner +in Bryanston Square; at which there +are many "Oh's!" and "Ah's!" and +"what could you expect?—Bryanston +Square!—served you right."</p> + +<p>In the mean time, the guests, relieved +of the presence of the Honourable +Sniftky, are rather more at their ease; +a baronet (who was lord mayor, or +something of that sort) waxes jocular, +and gives decided indications of +something like "how came you so;" +the man at the foot of the table contradicts +one of the diners-out, and is +contradicted in turn by the baronet; +the foreign count is in deep conversation +with a hard-featured man, supposed +to be a stockjobber; the clergyman +extols the labours of the host in +the matter of the Cannibal Islands' +Aborigines Protection Society, in which +his reverence takes an interest; the +claimant of the dormant peerage retails +his pedigree, pulling to pieces the +attorney-general, who has expressed +an opinion hostile to his pretensions.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, the piano is joined +by a harp, in musical solicitation of +the company to join the ladies in the +drawing-room; they do so, looking +flushed and plethoric, sink into easy-chairs, +sip tea, the younger beaux turning +over, with miss, Books of Beauty +and Keepsakes: at eleven, coaches and +cabs arrive, you take formal leave, expressing +with a melancholy countenance +your sense of the delightfulness +of the evening, get to your chambers, +and forget, over a broiled bone and a +bottle of Dublin stout, in what an infernal, +prosy, thankless, stone-faced, +yellow-waistcoated, unsympathizing, +unintellectual, selfish, stupid set you +have been condemned to pass an afternoon, +assisting, at the ostentatious exhibition +of vulgar wealth, where gulosity +has been unrelieved by one single +sally of wit, humour, good-nature, +humanity, or charity; where you come +without a welcome, and leave without +a friend.</p> + +<p>The whole art of the gentility-mongers +of all sorts in London, and +<i>à fortiori</i> of their wives and families, is +to lay a tax upon social intercourse +as nearly as possible amounting to a +prohibition; their dinners are criminally +wasteful, and sinfully extravagant +to this end; to this end they +insist on making <i>price</i> the test of what +they are pleased to consider <i>select society</i> +in their own sets, and they consequently +cannot have a dance without +guinea tickets nor a <i>pic-nic</i> without +dozens of champagne. This shows +their native ignorance and vulgarity +more than enough; genteel people go +upon a plan directly contrary, not +merely enjoying themselves, but enjoying +themselves without extravagance +or waste: in this respect the gentility-mongers +would do well to imitate +people of fashion.</p> + +<p>The exertions a gentility-monger +will make, to rub his skirts against +people above him; the humiliations, +mortifications, snubbing, he will submit +to, are almost incredible. One +would hardly believe that a retired +tradesman, of immense wealth, and +<a class="pagenum" name="page383" id="page383" title="page383"></a>enjoying all the respect that immense +wealth will secure, should actually +offer large sums of money to a lady of +fashion, as an inducement to procure +for him cards of invitation to her <i>set</i>, +which he stated was the great object +of his existence. Instead of being indignant +at his presumption, the lady +in question, pitying the poor man's +folly, attempted to reason with him, +assuring him with great truth that +whatever might be his wealth, his +power or desire of pleasing, he would +be rendered unhappy and ridiculous, +by the mere dint of pretension to a +circle to which he had no legitimate +claim, and advising him, as a friend, +to attempt some more laudable and +satisfactory ambition.</p> + +<p>All this good advice was, however, +thrown away; our gentility-monger +persevered, contriving somehow to +gain a passport to some of the <i>outer</i> +circles of fashionable life; was ridiculed, +laughed at, and honoured with +the <i>soubriquet</i> (he was a pianoforte +maker) of the <i>Semi-Grand</i>!</p> + +<p>We know another instance, where +two young men, engaged in trade in +the city, took a splendid mansion at +the West End, furnished it sumptuously, +got some desperate knight or +baronet's widow to give parties at +their house, inviting whomsoever she +thought proper, at their joint expense. +It is unnecessary to say, the poor fellows +succeeded in getting into good +society, not indeed in the <i>Court Circular</i>, +but in the—<i>Gazette</i>.</p> + +<p>There is another class of gentility-mongers +more to be pitied than the +last; those, namely, who are endeavouring +to "make a connexion," as the +phrase is, by which they may gain advancement +in their professions, and are +continually on the look-out for introductions +to persons of quality, their +hangers-on and dependents. There is +too much of this sort of thing among +medical men in London, the family +nature of whose profession renders +connexion, private partiality, and personal +favour, more essential to them +than to others. The lawyer, for example, +need not be a gentility-monger; +he has only to get round attorneys, for +the opportunity to show what he can +do, when he has done this, in which a +little toadying, "<i>on the sly</i>," is necessary—all +the rest is easy. The court +and the public are his judges; his +powers are at once appreciable, his +talent can be calculated, like the money +in his pocket; he can now go on +straight forward, without valuing the +individual preference or aversion of +any body.</p> + +<p>But a profession where men make +way through the whisperings of women, +and an inexhaustible variety of +<i>sotto voce</i> contrivances, must needs +have a tendency to create a subserviency +of spirit and of manner, which +naturally directs itself into gentility-mongering: +where realities, such as +medical experience, reading, and skill, +are remotely, or not at all, appreciable, +we must take up with appearances; +and of all appearances, the appearance +of proximity to people of fashion is the +most taking and seductive to people +<i>not</i> of fashion. It is for this reason that +a rising physician, if he happen to have +a lord upon his sick or visiting list, +never has done telling his plebeian patients +the particulars of his noble case, +which they swallow like almond milk, +finding it an excellent <i>placebo</i>.</p> + +<p>As it is the interest of a gentility-monger, +and his constant practice, to +be attended by a fashionable physician, +in order that he may be enabled continually +to talk of what Sir Henry +thinks of this, and how Sir Henry objects +to that, and the opinion of Sir +Henry upon t'other, so it is the business +of the struggling doctor to be +a gentility-monger, with the better +chance of becoming one day or other +a fashionable physician. Acting on +this principle, the poor man must necessarily +have a house in a professional +neighbourhood, which usually abuts +upon a neighbourhood fashionable or +exclusive; he must hire a carriage by +the month, and be for ever stepping in +and out of it, at his own door, keeping +it purposely bespattered with mud to +show the extent of his visiting acquaintance; +he must give dinners to people +"who <i>may</i> be useful," and be continually +on the look-out for those lucky +accidents which have made the fortunes, +and, as a matter of course, the +<i>merit</i>, of so many professional men.</p> + +<p>He becomes a Fellow of the Royal +Society, which gives him the chance +of conversing with a lord, and the right +of entering a lord's (the president's) +house, which is turned into sandwich-shop +four times a-year for his +reception; this, being the nearest approach +<a class="pagenum" name="page384" id="page384" title="page384"></a>he makes to acquaintance with +great personages, he values with the importance +it deserves.</p> + +<p>His servants, with famine legibly +written on their bones, are assiduous +and civil; his wife, though half-starved, +is very genteel, and at her dinner parties +burns candle-ends from the palace.<a name="footnotetag48" id="footnotetag48"></a><a href="#footnote48"><sup>48</sup></a></p> + +<p>If you pay her a morning visit, you +will have some such conversation as +follows.</p> + +<p>"Pray, Mr ——, is there any news +to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Great distress, I understand, +throughout the country."</p> + +<p>"Indeed—the old story, shocking—very.—Pray, +have you heard the delightful +news? The Princess-Royal +has actually cut a tooth!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I assure you; and the sweet +little royal love of a martyr has borne +it like a hero."</p> + +<p>"Positively?"</p> + +<p>"Positively, I assure you; Doctor +Tryiton has just returned from a consultation +with his friend Sir Henry, +upon a particularly difficult case—Lord +Scruffskin—case of elephantiasis +I think they call it, and tells me that +Sir Henry has arrives express from +Windsor with the news."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think, Mr ——, there will +be a general illumination?"</p> + +<p>"Really, madam, I cannot say."</p> + +<p>"<i>There ought to be</i>, [with emphasis.] +You must know, Mr ——, Dr +Tryiton has forwarded to a high quarter +a beautifully bound copy of his +work on ulcerated sore throat; he says +there is a great analogy between ulcers +of the throat and den—den—den—something, +I don't know what—teething, +in short. If nothing comes of it, +Dr Tryiton, thank Heaven, can do without +it; but you know, Mr ——, it may, +on a future occasion, be <i>useful to our +family</i>."</p> + +<p>If there is, in the great world of +London, one thing more spirit-sinking +than another, it is to see men condemned, +by the necessities of an overcrowded +profession, to sink to the +meannesses of pretension for a desperate +accident by which they may insure +success. When one has had an +opportunity of being behind the scenes, +and knowing what petty shifts, what +poor expedients of living, what anxiety of +mind, are at the bottom of all this +empty show, one will not longer marvel +that many born for better things should +sink under the difficulties of their position, +or that the newspapers so continually +set forth the miserably unprovided +for condition in which they so +often are compelled to leave their families. +To dissipate the melancholy +that always oppresses us when constrained +to behold the ridiculous antics +of the gentility-mongers, which we +chronicle only to endeavour at a reformation—let +us contrast the hospitality +of those who, with wiser ambition, +keep themselves, as the saying +is, "<i>to themselves</i>;" and, as a bright +example, let us recollect our old friend +Joe Stimpson.</p> + +<p>Joe Stimpson is a tanner and leather-seller +in Bermondsey, the architect of +his own fortune, which he has raised +to the respectable elevation of somewhere +about a quarter of a million +sterling. He is now in his seventy-second +year, has a handsome house, +without and pretension, overlooking +his tanyard. He has a joke upon +prospects, calling you to look from the +drawing-room window at his tanpits, +asking you if you ever saw any thing +like that at the west end of the town; +replying in the negative, Joe, chuckling, +observes that it is the finest prospect <i>he</i> +ever saw in his life, and although he +has been admiring it for half a century, +he has not done admiring it yet. +Joe's capacity for the humorous may +be judged of by this specimen; but in +attention to business few can surpass +him, while his hospitality can command +a wit whenever he chooses to angle for +one with a good dinner. He has a +wife, a venerable old smiling lady in +black silk, neat cap, and polished shoes; +three daughters, unmarried; and a +couple of sons, brought up, after the +London fashion, to inherit their father's +business, or, we might rather say, +<i>estate</i>.</p> + +<p>Why the three Miss Stimpsons remain +<a class="pagenum" name="page385" id="page385" title="page385"></a>unmarried, we cannot say, nor +would it be decorous to enquire; but +hearing them drop a hint now and then +about visits, "a considerable time ago," +to Brighthelmstone and Bath, we are +led, however reluctantly in the case of +ladies <i>now</i> evangelical, to conclude, +their attention has formerly been directed +to gentility-mongering at these +places of fashionable resort; the tanyard +acting as a repellent to husbands +of a social position superior to their +own, and their great fortunes operating +in deterring worthy persons of their +own station from addressing them; or +being the means of inducing them to +be too prompt with refusals, these +amiable middle-aged young ladies are +now "on hands," paying the penalty +of one of the many curses that pride +of wealth brings in its train. At present, +however, their "affections are set +on things above;" and, without meaning +any thing disrespectful to my +friend Joe Stimpson, Sarah, Harriet, +and Susan Stimpson are certainly the +three least agreeable members of the +family. The sons are, like all other +sons in the houses of their fathers, +steady, business-like, unhappy, and +dull; they look like fledged birds in +the nest of the old ones, out of place; +neither servants nor masters, their +social position is somewhat equivocal, +and having lived all their lives in the +house of their father, seeing as he sees, +thinking as he thinks, they can hardly +be expected to appear more than a +brace of immature Joe Stimpsons. +They are not, it is true, tainted with +much of the world's wickedness, neither +have they its self-sustaining trials, +its hopes, its fears, its honest struggles, +or that experience which is gathered +only by men who quit, when +they can quit it, the petticoat string, +and the paternal despotism of even a +happy home. As for the old couple, +time, although silvering the temples +and furrowing the front, is hardly seen +to lay his heavy hand upon the shoulder +of either, much less to put his +finger on eyes, ears, or lips—the two +first being yet as "wide awake," and +the last as open to a joke, or any other +good thing, as ever they were; in sooth, +it is no unpleasing sight to see this +jolly old couple with nearly three half +centuries to answer for, their affection +unimpaired, faculties unclouded, and +temper undisturbed by the near approach, +beyond hope of respite, of that +stealthy foe whose assured advent +strikes terror to us all. Joe Stimpson, +if he thinks of death at all, thinks of +him as a pitiful rascal, to be kicked +down stairs by the family physician; +the Bible of the old lady is seldom far +from her hand, and its consolations +are cheering, calming, and assuring. +The peevish fretfulness of age has nothing +in common with man or wife, +unless when Joe, exasperated with his +evangelical daughters' continual absence +at the class-meetings, and love-feasts, +and prayer-meetings, somewhat +indignantly complains, that "so long as +they can get to heaven, they don't care +who goes to ——," a place that Virgil +and Tasso have taken much pains in +describing, but which the old gentleman +sufficiently indicates by one emphatic +monosyllable.</p> + +<p>Joe is a liberal-minded man, hates +cant and humbug, and has no prejudices—hating +the French he will not acknowledge +is a prejudice, but considers +the bounden duty of an Englishman; +and, though fierce enough upon other +subjects of taxation, thinks no price +too high for drubbing them. He was +once prevailed upon to attempt a journey +to Paris; but having got to Calais, +insisted upon returning by the next +packet, swearing it was a shabby concern, +and he had seen enough of it.</p> + +<p>He takes in the <i>Gentleman's Magazine,</i> +because his father did it before +him—but he never reads it; he takes +pride in a corpulent dog, which is ever +at his heels; he is afflicted with face-ache, +and swears at any body who +calls it <i>tic-douloureux.</i></p> + +<p>When you go to dine with him, you +are met at the door by a rosy-checked +lass, with ribands in her cap, who smiles +a hearty welcome, and assures you, +though an utter stranger, of the character +of the house and its owner. You +are conducted to the drawing-room, +a plain, substantial, <i>honest</i>-looking +apartment; there you find the old +couple, and are received with a warmth +that gives assurance of the nearest approach +to what is understood by <i>home</i>. +The sons, released from business, arrive, +shake you heartily by the hand, +and are really glad to see you; of the +daughters we say nothing, as there is +nothing in <i>them</i>.</p> + +<p>The other guests of the day come +dropping in—all straightforward, business-like, +free, frank-hearted fellows—aristocrats +of wealth, the best, because +<a class="pagenum" name="page386" id="page386" title="page386"></a>the <i>unpretending</i>, of their class; they +come, too, <i>before</i> their time, for they +know their man, and that Joe Stimpson +keeps nobody waiting for nobody. +When the clock—for here is no <i>gong</i>—strikes +five, you descend to dinner; +plain, plentiful, good, and well dressed; +no tedious course, with long intervals +between; no oppressive <i>set-out</i> of superfluous +plate, and what, perhaps, is +not the least agreeable accessory, no +piebald footmen hanging over your +chair, whisking away your plate before +you have done with it, and watching +every bit you put into your mouth.</p> + +<p>Your cherry-cheeked friend and another, +both in the family from childhood, +(another good sign of the house,) +and looking as if they really were glad—and +so they are—to have an opportunity +of obliging you, do the servitorial offices +of the table; you are sure of a glass +of old sherry, and you may call for +strong beer, or old port, with your +cheese—or, if a Scotchman, for a dram—without +any other remark than an invitation +to "try it again, and make +yourself comfortable."</p> + +<p>After dinner, you are invited, as a +young man, to smoke a cigar with the +"boys," as Joe persists in calling +them. You ascend to a bed-room, and +are requested to keep your head out o' +window while smoking, lest the "Governor" +should snuff the fumes when +he comes up stairs to bed: while you +are "craning" your neck, the cherry-cheeked +lass enters with brandy and +water, and you are as merry and easy +as possible. The rest of the evening +passes away in the same unrestrained +interchange of friendly courtesy; nor +are you permitted to take your leave +without a promise to dine on the next +Sunday or holiday—Mrs Stimpson +rating you for not coming last Easter +Sunday, and declaring she cannot think +"why young men should mope by +themselves, when she is always happy +to see them."</p> + +<p>Honour to Joe Stimpson and his +missus! They have the true <i>ring</i> of +the ancient coin of hospitality; none +of your hollow-sounding <i>raps</i>: they +know they have what I want, <i>a home</i>, +and they will not allow me, at their +board, to know that I want one: they +compassionate a lonely, isolated man, +and are ready to share with him the +hearty cheer and unaffected friendliness +of their English fireside: they +know that they can get nothing by +me, nor do they ever dream of an +acknowledgment for their kindness; +but I owe them for many a social day +redeemed from cheerless solitude; +many an hour of strenuous labour do +I owe to the relaxation of the old wainscotted +dining-room at Bermondsey.</p> + +<p>Honour to Joe Stimpson, and to all +who are satisfied with their station, +happy in their home, have no repinings +after empty sounds of rank and shows +of life; and who extend the hand of +friendly fellowship to the homeless, +<i>because they have no home</i>!</p> + +<h3>THE ARISTOCRACY OF TALENT.</h3> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"There is a quantity of talent latent among men, ever rising to the level of the great occasions +that call it forth."</p></div> + +<p>This illustration, borrowed by Sir +James Mackintosh from chemical science, +and so happily applied, may serve +to indicate the undoubted truth, that +talent is a <i>growth</i> as much as a <i>gift</i>; +that circumstances call out and develop +its latent powers; that as soil, +flung upon the surface from the uttermost +penetrable depths of earth, will +be found to contain long-dormant +germs of vegetable life, so the mind of +man, acted upon by circumstances, +will ever be found equal to a certain +sum of production—the amount of +which will be chiefly determined by +the force and direction of the external +influence which first set it in motion.</p> + +<p>The more we reflect upon this important +subject, we shall find the more, +that external circumstances have an +influence upon intellect, increasing in +an accumulating ratio; that the political +institutions of various countries +have their fluctuating and contradictory +influences; that example controls +in a great degree intellectual production, +causing after-growths, as it were, +of the first luxuriant crop of masterminds, +and giving a character and +individuality to habits of thought and +modes of expression; in brief, that +great occasions will have great instruments, +and there never was yet a noted +time that had not noted men. Dull, +jog-trot, money-making, commercial +times will make, if they do not find, +<a class="pagenum" name="page387" id="page387" title="page387"></a>dull, jog-trot, money-making, commercial +men: in times when ostentation +and expense are the measures of respect, +when men live rather for the +world's opinion than their own, poverty +becomes not only the evil but +the shame, not only the curse but the +disgrace, and will be shunned by every +man as a pestilence; every one will +fling away immortality, to avoid it; +will sink, as far as he can, his art in +his trade; and <i>he</i> will be the greatest +genius who can turn most money.</p> + +<p>It may be urged that true genius +has the power not only to <i>take</i> opportunities, +but to make them: true, it +may make such opportunities as the +time in which it lives affords; but +these opportunities will be great or +small, noble or ignoble, as the time is +eventful or otherwise. All depends +upon the time, and you might as well +have expected a Low Dutch epic poet +in the time of the great herring fishery, +as a Napoleon, a Demosthenes, a Cicero +in this, by some called the nineteenth, +but which we take leave to designate +the "<i>dot-and-carry-one</i>" century. If +a Napoleon were to arise at any corner +of any London street, not five seconds +would elapse until he would be +"<i>hooked</i>" off to the station-house by +Superintendent DOGSNOSE of the D +division, with an exulting mob of men +and boys hooting at his heels: if +Demosthenes or Cicero, disguised as +Chartist orators, mounting a tub at +Deptford, were to Philippicize, or +entertain this motley auditory with +speeches against Catiline or Verres, +straightway the Superintendent of +the X division, with a <i>posse</i> of constables +at his heels, dismounts the +patriot orator from his tub, and hands +him over to a plain-spoken business-like +justice of the peace, who regards +an itinerant Cicero in the same unsympathizing +point of view with any +other vagabond.</p> + +<p>What is become of the eloquence of +the bar? Why is it that flowery +orators find no grist coming to their +mills? How came it that, at Westminster +Hall, Charles Philips missed +his market? What is the reason, that +if you step into the Queen's Bench, or +Common Pleas, or Exchequer, you +will hear no such thing as a speech—behold +no such animal as an orator—only +a shrewd, plain, hard-working, +steady man, called an attorney-general, +or a sergeant, or a leading counsel, +quietly talking over a matter of law +with the judge, or a matter of fact +with the jury, like men of business as +they are, and shunning, as they would +a rattlesnake, all clap-trap arguments, +figures, flowers, and the obsolete embroidery +of rhetoric?</p> + +<p>The days of romantic eloquence are +fled—the great constitutional questions +that called forth "thoughts that +breathe, and words that burn," from +men like Erskine, are <i>determined</i>. +Would you have men oratorical over +a bottomry bond, Demosthenic about +an action of trespass on the case, or a +rule to compute?</p> + +<p>To be sure, when Follett practised +before committees of the House of +Commons, and, by chance, any question +involving points of interest and +difficulty in Parliamentary law and +practice came before the Court, there +was something worth hearing: the +<i>opportunity</i> drew out the <i>man</i>, and the +<i>orator</i> stepped before the <i>advocate</i>. +Even now, sometimes, it is quite refreshing +to get a topic in these Courts +worthy of Austin, and Austin working +at it. But no man need go to look for +orators in our ordinary courts of law; +judgment, patience, reading, and that +rare compound of qualities known and +appreciated by the name of <i>tact</i>, tell +with judges, and influence juries; the +days of <i>palaver</i> are gone, and the talking +heroes extinguished for ever.</p> + +<p>All this is well known in London; +but the three or four millions (it may +be <i>five</i>) of great men, philosophers, +poets, orators, patriots, and the like, in +the rural districts, require to be informed +of this our declension from the +heroics, in order to appreciate, or at +least to understand, the modesty, sobriety, +business-like character, and division +of labour, in the vast amount of +talent abounding in every department +of life in London.</p> + +<p>London overflows with talent. You +may compare it, for the purpose of +illustration, to one of George Robins' +patent filters, into which pours turbid +torrents of Thames water, its sediment, +mud, dirt, weeds, and rottenness; +straining through the various <i>strata</i>, +its grosser particles are arrested in +their course, and nothing that is not +pure, transparent, and limpid is transmitted. +In the great filter of London +life, conceit, pretension, small provincial +abilities, <i>pseudo</i>-talent, <i>soi-disant</i> +intellect, are tried, rejected, and flung +<a class="pagenum" name="page388" id="page388" title="page388"></a>out again. True genius is tested by +judgment, fastidiousness, emulation, difficulty, +privation; and, passing through +many ordeals, persevering, makes its +way through all; and at length, in the +fulness of time, flows forth, in acknowledged +purity and refinement, upon the +town.</p> + +<p>There is a perpetual onward, upward +tendency in the talent, both high and +low, mechanical and intellectual, that +abounds in London:</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"Emulation hath a thousand sons,"</p></div> + +<p>who are ever and always following fast +upon your heels. There is no time to +dawdle or linger on the road, no +"stop and go on again:" if you but +step aside to fasten your shoe-tie, your +place is occupied—you are edged off, +pushed out of the main current, and +condemned to circle slowly in the lazy +eddy of some complimenting clique. +Thousands are to be found, anxious +and able to take your place; while +hardly one misses you, or turns his +head to look after you should you lose +your own: you <i>live</i> but while you +<i>labour</i>, and are no longer remembered +than while you are reluctant to repose.</p> + +<p>Talent of all kinds brings forth +perfect fruits, only when concentrated +upon one object: no matter how versatile +men may be, mankind has a wise +and salutary prejudice against diffused +talent; for although <i>knowledge</i> diffused +immortalizes itself, diffused <i>talent</i> is +but a shallow pool, glittering in the +noonday sun, and soon evaporated; +<i>concentrated</i>, it is a well, from whose +depths perpetually may we draw the +limpid waters. Therefore is the talent +of London concentrated, and the division +of labour minute. When we talk +of a lawyer, a doctor, a man of letters, +in a provincial place, we recognize at +once a man who embraces all that his +opportunities present him with, in +whatever department of his profession. +The lawyer is, at one and the same +time, advocate, chamber counsel, conveyancer, +pleader; the doctor an accoucheur, +apothecary, physician, surgeon, +dentist, or at least, in a greater +or less degree, unites in his own person, +these—in London, distinct and separate—professions, +according as his +sphere of action is narrow or extended; +the country journalist is sometimes proprietor, +editor, sub-editor, traveller, and +canvasser, or two or more of these +heterogeneous and incompatible avocations. +The result is, an obvious, +appreciable, and long-established superiority +in that product which is the +result of minutely divided labour.</p> + +<p>The manufacture of a London watch +or piano will employ, each, at least +twenty trades, exclusive of the preparers, +importers, and venders of the +raw material used in these articles; +every one of these tradesmen shall be +nay, <i>must</i> be, the best of their class, or +at least the best that can be obtained; +and for this purpose, the inducements +of high wages are held out to workmen +generally, and their competition +for employment enables the manufacturer +to secure the most skilful. It +is just the same with a broken-down +constitution, or a lawsuit: the former +shall be placed under the care of a +lung-doctor, a liver-doctor, a heart-doctor, +a dropsy-doctor, or whatever +other doctor is supposed best able to +understand the case; each of these +doctors shall have read lectures and +published books, and made himself +known for his study and exclusive attention +to one of the "thousand ills +that flesh is heir to:" the latter shall +go through the hands of dozens of +men skilful in that branch of the law +connected with the particular injury. +So it is with every thing else of production, +mechanical or intellectual, or +both, that London affords: the extent +of the market permits the minute division +of labour, and the minute division +of labour reacts upon the market, +raising the price of its produce, and +branding it with the signs of a legitimate +superiority.</p> + +<p>Hence the superior intelligence of +working men, of all classes, high and +low, in the World of London; hence +that striving after excellence, that +never-ceasing tendency to advance in +whatever they are engaged in, that so +distinguishes the people of this wonderful +place; hence the improvements +of to-day superseded by the improvements +of to-morrow; hence speculation, +enterprize, unknown to the inhabitants +of less extended spheres of +action.</p> + +<p>Competition, emulation, and high +wages give us an aristocracy of talent, +genius, skill, <i>tact</i>, or whatever you like +to call it; but you are by no means to +understand that any of these aristocracies, +or better classes, stand prominently +before their fellows <i>socially</i>, or, +that one is run after in preference to +<a class="pagenum" name="page389" id="page389" title="page389"></a>another; nobody runs after anybody +in the World of London.</p> + +<p>In this respect, no capital, no country +on the face of the earth, resembles us; +every where else you will find a leading +class, giving a tone to society, and +moulding it in some one or other direction; +a predominating <i>set</i>, the pride of +those who are <i>in</i>, the envy of those who +are <i>below</i> it. There is nothing of this +kind in London; here every man has +his own set, and every man his proper +pride. In every set, social or professional, +there are great names, successful +men, prominent; but the set is +nothing the greater for them: no man +sheds any lustre upon his fellows, nor +is a briefless barrister a whit more +thought of because he and Lyndhurst +are of the same profession.</p> + +<p>Take a look at other places: in +money-getting places, you find society +following, like so many dogs, the aristocracy +of 'Change: every man knows +the worth of every other man, that is +to say, <i>what</i> he is worth.</p> + +<p>A good man, elsewhere a relative +term, is <i>there</i> a man good for <i>so</i> much; +hats are elevated and bodies depressed +upon a scale of ten thousand pounds +to an inch; "I hope you are well," +from one of the aristocracy of these +places is always translated to mean, +"I hope you are solvent," and "how +d'ye do?" from another, is equivalent +to "doing a bill."</p> + +<p>Go abroad, to Rome for example—You +are smothered beneath the petticoats +of an ecclesiastical aristocracy. +Go to the northern courts of Europe—You +are ill-received, or perhaps not received +at all, save in military uniform; +the aristocracy of the epaulet meets +you at every turn, and if you are not +at least an ensign of militia, you are nothing. +Make your way into Germany—What +do you find there? an aristocracy +of functionaries, mobs of nobodies +living upon everybodies; from +Herr Von, Aulic councillor, and Frau +Von, Aulic councilloress, down to +Herr Von, crossing-sweeper, and Frau +Von, crossing-sweeperess—for the women +there must be <i>better</i>-half even in +their titles—you find society led, or, +to speak more correctly, society <i>consisting</i> +of functionaries, and they, every +office son of them, and their wives—nay, +their very curs—alike insolent and +dependent. "Tray, Blanche, and +Sweetheart, see they bark at <i>me</i>!" +There, to get into society, you must +first get into a place: you must contrive +to be the <i>servant</i> of the public +before you are permitted to be the +<i>master</i>: you must be paid by, before +you are in a condition to despise, the +<i>canaille</i>.</p> + +<p>Passing Holland and Belgium as +more akin to the genius of the English +people, as respects the supremacy of +honest industry, its independent exercise, +and the comparative insignificance +of aristocracies, conventionally +so called, we come to FRANCE: there +we find a provincial and a Parisian +aristocracy—the former a servile mob +of placemen, one in fifty, at least, of +the whole population; and the latter—oh! +my poor head, what a <i>clanjaffrey</i> +of <i>journalistes, feuilletonistes, artistes</i>, +dramatists, novelists, <i>vaudivellistes</i>, +poets, literary ladies, lovers of literary +ladies, <i>hommes de lettres, claqueurs, +littérateurs, gérants, censeurs, rapporteurs</i>, +and <i>le diable boiteux</i> verily +knows what else!</p> + +<p>These people, with whom, or at least +with a great majority of whom, common +sense, sobriety of thought, consistency +of purpose, steady determination +in action, and sound reasoning, +are so sadly eclipsed by their vivacity, +<i>empressement</i>, prejudice, and party zeal, +form a prominent, indeed, <i>the</i> prominent +aristocracy of the <i>salons</i>: and +only conceive what must be the state +of things in France, when we know +that Paris acts upon the provinces, and +that Paris is acted upon by this foolscap +aristocracy, without station, or, +what is perhaps worse, enjoying station +without property; abounding in +maddening and exciting influences, +but lamentably deficient in those hard-headed, +<i>ungenius-like</i> qualities of patience, +prudence, charity, forbearance, +and peace-lovings, of which their war-worn +nation, more than any other in +Europe, stands in need.</p> + +<p>When, in the name of goodness, is +the heart of the philanthropist to be +gladdened with the desire of peace fulfilled +over the earth? When are paltry +family intrigues to cease, causing the +blood of innocent thousands to be shed? +When will the aristocracy of genius in +France give over jingling, like castanets, +their trashy rhymes "<i>gloire</i>" and +"<i>victoire</i>," and apply themselves to objects +worthy of creatures endowed with +the faculty of reason? Or, if they must +<a class="pagenum" name="page390" id="page390" title="page390"></a>have fighting, if it is their nature, if +the prime instinct with them is the +thirst of human blood, how cowardly, +how paltry, is it to hound on their +fellow-countrymen to war with England, +to war with Spain, to war with +every body, while snug in their offices, +doing their little best to bleed nations +with their pen!</p> + +<p>Why does not the foolscap aristocracy +rush forth, inkhorn in hand, +and restore the glories (as they call +them) of the Empire, nor pause till they +mend their pens victorious upon the +brink of the Rhine.</p> + +<p>To resume: the aristocracies of our +provincial capitals are those of literature +in the one, and lickspittling in +the other: mercantile towns have their +aristocracies of money, or muckworm +aristocracies: Rome has an ecclesiastical—Prussia, +Russia, military aristocracies: +Germany, an aristocracy of +functionaries: France has two, or even +three, great aristocracies—the military, +place-hunting, and foolscap.</p> + +<p>Now, then, attend to what we are +going to say: London is cursed with +no predominating, no overwhelming, +no <i>characteristic</i> aristocracy. There is +no <i>set</i> or <i>clique</i> of any sort or description +of men that you can point to, and +say, that's the London set. We turn +round and desire to be informed what set +do you mean: every <i>salon</i> has its set, and +every pot-house its set also; and the +frequenters of each set are neither envious +of the position of the other, nor +dissatisfied with their own: the pretenders +to fashion, or hangers-on upon +the outskirts of high life, are alone the +servile set, or spaniel set, who want +the proper self-respecting pride which +every distinct aristocracy maintains in +the World of London.</p> + +<p>We are a great firmament, a moonless +azure, glowing with stars of all +magnitudes, and myriads of <i>nebulæ</i> of +no magnitudes at all: we move harmoniously +in our several orbits, minding +our own business, satisfied with +our position, thinking, it may be, with +harmless vanity, that we bestow more +light upon earth than any ten, and that +the eyes of all terrestrial stargazers +are upon us. Adventurers, pretenders, +and quacks, are our meteors, our <i>auroræ</i>, +our comets, our falling-stars, shooting +athwart our hemisphere, and exhaling +into irretrievable darkness: our +tuft-hunters are satellites of Jupiter, +invisible to the naked eye: our clear +frosty atmosphere that sets us all a-twinkling +is prosperity, and we, too +have our clouds that hide us from the +eyes of men. The noonday of our own +bustling time beholds us dimly; but +posterity regards us as it were from the +bottom of a well. Time, that exact +observer, applies his micrometer to +every one of us, determining our rank +among celestial bodies without appeal +and from time to time enrolling in his +<i>ephemeris</i> such new luminaries as may +be vouchsafed to the long succession +of ages.</p> + +<p>If there is one thing that endears +London to men of superior order—to +true aristocrats, no matter of what species, +it is that universal equality of +outward condition, that republicanism +of everyday life, which pervades the +vast multitudes who hum, and who +drone, who gather honey, and who, +without gathering, consume the products +of this gigantic hive. Here you +can never be extinguished or put out +by any overwhelming interest.</p> + +<p>Neither are we in London pushed +to the wall by the two or three hundred +great men of every little place. +We are not invited to a main of small +talk with the cock of his own dung-hill; +we are never told, as a great +favour, that Mr Alexander Scaldhead, +the phrenologist, is to be there, and +that we can have our "bumps" felt for +nothing; or that the Chevalier Doembrownski +(a London pickpocket in disguise) +is expected to recite a Polish +ode, accompanying himself on the +Jew's harp; we are not bored with the +misconduct of the librarian, who <i>never</i> +has the first volume of the last new +novel, or invited to determine whether +Louisa Fitzsmythe or Angelina Stubbsville +deserves to be considered the heroine; +we are not required to be in +raptures because Mrs Alfred Shaw or +Clara Novello are expected, or to break +our hearts with disappointment because +they didn't come: the arrival, +performances, and departure, of Ducrow's +horses, or Wombwell's wild +beasts, affect us with no extraordinary +emotion; even Assizes time concerns +most of us nothing.</p> + +<p>Then, again, how vulgar, how commonplace +in London is the aristocracy +of wealth; of Mrs Grub, who, in a +provincial town, keeps her carriage, +and is at once the envy and the scandal +<a class="pagenum" name="page391" id="page391" title="page391"></a>of all the Ladies who have to proceed +upon their ten toes, we wot not +the existence. Mr Bill Wright, the +banker, the respected, respectable, influential, +twenty per cent Wright, in +London is merely a licensed dealer in +money; he visits at Camberwell Hill, +or Hampstead Heath, or wherever +other tradesmen of his class delight to +dwell; his wife and daughters patronize +the Polish balls, and Mr Bill +Wright, jun., sports a stall at the +(English) opera; we are not overdone +by Mr Bill Wright, overcome by Mrs +Bill Wright, or the Misses Bill Wright, +nor overcrowed by Mr Bill Wright +the younger: in a word, we don't care +a crossed cheque for the whole Bill +Wrightish connexion.</p> + +<p>What are carriages, or carriage-keeping +people in London? It is not +here, as in the provinces, by their carriages +shall you know them; on the +contrary, the carriage of a duchess is +only distinguishable from that of a +<i>parvenu</i>, by the superior expensiveness +and vulgarity of the latter.</p> + +<p>The vulgarity of ostentatious wealth +with us, defeats the end it aims at. +That expense which is lavished to impress +us with awe and admiration, +serves only as a provocative to laughter, +and inducement to contempt; +where great wealth and good taste go +together, we at once recognize the harmonious +adaptation of means and ends; +where they do not, all extrinsic and +adventitious expenditure availeth its +disbursers nothing.</p> + +<p>What animal on earth was ever so +inhumanly preposterous as a lord +mayor's footman, and yet it takes +sixty guineas, at the least, to make that +poor lick-plate a common laughing-stock?</p> + +<p>No, sir; in London we see into, and +see through, all sorts of pretension: +the pretension of wealth or rank, whatever +kind of quackery and imposture. +When I say <i>we</i>, I speak of the vast +multitudes forming the educated, discriminating, +and thinking classes of +London life. We pass on to <i>what</i> a +man <i>is</i>, over <i>who</i> he is, and what he +<i>has</i>; and, with one of the most accurate +observers of human character and +nature to whom a man of the world +ever sat for his portrait—the inimitable +La Bruyere—when offended with +the hollow extravagance of vulgar +riches, we exclaim—"<i>Tu te trompes, +Philemon, si avec ce carrosse brillant, +ce grand nombre de coquins qui te suivent, +et ces six bêtes qui te trainent, tu +penses qu'on t'en estime d'avantage: ou +ecarte tout cet attirail qui t'est étranger, +pour pénétrer jusq'a toi qui n'es qu'un +fat</i>."</p> + +<p>In London, every man is responsible +for himself, and his position is the +consequence of his conduct. If a great +author, for example, or artist, or politician, +should choose to outrage the +established rules of society in any essential +particular, he is neglected and +even shunned in his private, though +he may be admired and lauded in his +public capacity. Society marks the +line between the <i>public</i> and the <i>social</i> +man; and this line no eminence, not +even that of premier minister of England, +will enable a public man to confound.</p> + +<p>Wherever you are invited in London +to be introduced to a great man, +by any of his parasites or hangers-on, +you may be assured that your great +man is no such thing; you may make +up your mind to be presented to some +quack, some hollow-skulled fellow, +who makes up by little arts, small tactics, +and every variety of puff, for the +want of that inherent excellence which +will enable him to stand alone. These +gentlemen form the Cockney school +proper of art, literature, the drama, +every thing; and they go about seeking +praise, as a goatsucker hunts insects, +with their mouths wide open; +they pursue their prey in troops, like +Jackals, and like them, utter at all +times a melancholy, complaining howl; +they imagine that the world is in a +conspiracy not to admire them, and +they would bring an action against the +world if they could. But as that is +impossible, they are content to rail +against the world in good set terms; +they are always puffing in the papers, +but in a side-winded way, yet you can +trace them always at work, through the +daily, weekly, monthly periodicals, in +desperate exertion to attract public +attention. They have at their head one +sublime genius, whom they swear by, +and they admire him the more, the +more incomprehensible and oracular +he appears to the rest of mankind.</p> + +<p>These are the men who cultivate extensive +tracts of forehead, and are +deeply versed in the effective display +of depending ringlets and ornamental +whiskers; they dress in black, with +white <i>chokers</i>, and you will be sure to +<a class="pagenum" name="page392" id="page392" title="page392"></a>find a lot of them at evening parties +of the middling sort of doctors, or the +better class of boarding-houses.</p> + +<p>This class numbers not merely literary +men, but actors, artists, adventuring +politicians, small scientifics, and +a thousand others, who have not energy +or endurance to work their way in +solitary labour, or who feel that they +do not possess the power to go alone.</p> + +<p>Public men in London appear naked +at the bar of public opinion; laced +coats, ribands, embroidery, titles, avail +nothing, because these things are common, +and have the common fate of +common things, to be cheaply estimated. +The eye is satiated with them, +they come like shadows, so depart; +but they do not feed the eye of the +mind; the understanding is not the +better for such gingerbread; we are +compelled to look out for some more +substantial nutriment, and we try the +inward man, and test his capacity. +Instead of measuring his bumps, like a +landsurveyor, we dissect his brain, +like an anatomist; we estimate him, +whether he be high or low, in whatever +department of life, not by what +he says he can do, or means to do, but +by what he <i>has</i> done. By this test is +every man of talent tried in London; +this is his grand, his formal difficulty, +to get the opportunity of showing what +he can do, of being put into circulation, +of having the chance of being +tested, like a shilling, by the <i>ring</i> of +the customer and the <i>bite</i> of the critic; +for the opportunity, the chance to +edge in, the chink to <i>wedge</i> in, the +<i>purchase</i> whereon to work the length +of his lever, he must be ever on the +watch; for the sunshine blink of encouragement, +the April shower of +praise, he must await the long winter +of "hope deferred" passing away. Patience, +the <i>courage</i> of the man of talent, +he must exert for many a dreary +and unrewarded day; he must see the +quack and the pretender lead an undiscerning +public by the nose, and say +nothing; nor must he exult when the +too-long enduring public at length +kicks the pretender and the quack +into deserved oblivion. From many a +door that will hereafter gladly open for +him, he must be content to be presently +turned away. Many a scanty +meal, many a lonely and unfriended +evening, in this vast wilderness, must +he pass in trying on his armour, and +preparing himself for the fight that he +still believes <i>will</i> come, and in which +his spirit, strong within him, tells him +he must conquer. While the night +yet shrouds him he must labour, and +with patient, and happily for him, if, +with religious hope, he watch the first +faint glimmerings of the dawning day; +for his day, if he is worthy to behold +it, will come, and he will yet be recompensed +"by that time and chance +which happeneth to all." And if his +heart fails him, and his coward spirit +turns to flee, often as he sits, tearful, +in the solitude of his chamber, will the +remembrance of the early struggles of +the immortals shame that coward spirit. +The shade of the sturdy Johnson, +hungering, dinnerless, will mutely reproach +him for sinking thus beneath +the ills that the "scholar's life assail." +The kindly-hearted, amiable Goldsmith, +pursued to the gates of a prison +by a mercenary wretch who fattened +upon the produce of that lovely mind, +smiling upon him, will bid him be of +good cheer. A thousand names, that +fondly live in the remembrance of our +hearts, will he conjure up, and all will +tell the same story of early want, and +long neglect, and lonely friendlessness. +Then will reproach himself, saying, +"What am I, that I should quail before +the misery that broke not minds +like these? What am I, that I should +be exempt from the earthly fate of the +immortals?"</p> + +<p>Nor marvel, then, that men who +have passed the fiery ordeal, whose +power has been tried and not found +wanting, whose nights of probation, +difficulty, and despair are past, and +with whom it is now noon, should +come forth, with deportment modest +and subdued, exempt from the insolent +assumption of vulgar minds, and their +yet more vulgar hostilities and friendships: +that such men as Campbell +and Rogers, and a thousand others in +every department of life and letters, +should partake of that quietude of +manner, that modesty of deportment, +that compassion for the unfortunate of +their class, that unselfish admiration +for men who, successful, have deserved +success, that abomination of cliques, +coteries, and <i>conversazionés</i>, and all +the littleness of inferior fry: that such +men should have parasites, and followers, +and hangers-on; or that, since men +like themselves are few and far between, +they should live for and with +such men alone.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page393" id="page393" title="page393"></a>But thou, O Vanity! thou curse, thou +shame, thou sin, with what tides of +<i>pseudo</i> talent hast thou not filled this +ambitious town? Ass, dolt, miscalculator, +quack, pretender, how many +hast thou befooled, thou father of multifarious +fools? Serpent, tempter, evil +one, how many hast thou seduced +from the plough tail, the carpenter's +bench, the schoolmaster's desk, the +rural scene, to plunge them into misery +and contempt in this, the abiding-place +of their betters, thou unhanged +cheat? Hence the querulous piping +against the world and the times, and +the neglect of genius, and appeals to +posterity, and damnation of managers, +publishers, and the public; hence +cliques, and <i>claqueurs</i>, and coteries, and +the would-if-I-could-be aristocracy of +letters; hence bickerings, quarellings, +backbitings, slanderings, and reciprocity +of contempt; hence the impossibility +of literary union, and the absolute +necessity imposed upon the great +names of our time of shunning, like a +pestilence, the hordes of vanity-struck +individuals who would tear the coats +off their backs in desperate adherence +to the skirts. Thou, too, O Vanity! +art responsible for greater evils:—Time +misspent, industry misdirected, +labour unrequited, because uselessly or +imprudently applied: poverty and isolation, +families left unprovided for, +pensions, solicitations, patrons, meannesses, +subscriptions!</p> + +<p>True talent, on the contrary, in +London, meets its reward, if it lives to +be rewarded; but it has, of its own +right, no <i>social</i> pre-eminence, nor is +it set above or below any of the other +aristocracies, in what we may take the +liberty of calling its private life. In +this, as in all other our aristocracies, +men are regarded not as of their set, +but as of themselves: they are <i>individually</i> +admired, not worshipped as a +congregation: their social influence is +not aggregated, though their public +influence may be. When a man, of +whatever class, leaves his closet, he is +expected to meet society upon equal +terms: the scholar, the man of rank, +the politician, the <i>millionaire</i>, must +merge in the gentleman: if he chooses +to individualize his aristocracy in his +own person, he must do so at home, +for it will not be understood or submitted +to any where else.</p> + +<p>The rewards of intellectual labour +applied to purposes of remote, or not +immediately appreciable usefulness, as +in social literature, and the loftier +branches of the fine arts, are, with us, +so few, as hardly to be worth mentioning, +and pity 'tis that it should be so. +The law, the church, the army, and +the faculty of physic, have not only +their fair and legitimate remuneration +for independent labour, but they have +their several prizes, to which all who +excel, may confidently look forward +when the time of weariness and exhaustion +shall come; when the pressure of +years shall slacken exertion, and diminished +vigour crave some haven of repose, +or, at the least, some mitigated +toil, with greater security of income: +some place of honour with repose—the +ambition of declining years. The +influence of the great prize of the law, +the church, and other professions in +this country, has often been insisted +upon with great reason: it has been +said, and truly said, that not only do +these prizes reward merit already +passed through its probationary stages, +but serve as inducements to all who +are pursuing the same career. It is not +so much the example of the prize-holder, +as the <i>prize</i>, that stimulates +men onward and upward: without the +hope of reaching one of those comfortable +stations, hope would be extinguished, +talent lie fallow, energy be +limited to the mere attainment of subsistence; +great things would not be +done, or attempted, and we would +behold only a dreary level of indiscriminate +mediocrity. If this be true of +professions, in which, after a season +of severe study, a term of probation, +the knowledge acquired in early life +sustains the professor, with added experience +of every day, throughout the +rest of his career, with how much more +force will it apply to professions or +pursuits, in which the mind is perpetually +on the rack to produce novelties, +and in which it is considered +derogatory to a man to reproduce his +own ideas, copy his own pictures, or +multiply, after the same model, a variety +of characters and figures!</p> + +<p>A few years of hard reading, constant +attention in the chambers of the +conveyancer, the equity craftsman, +the pleader, and a few years more of +that disinterested observance of the +practice of the courts, which is +liberally afforded to every young barrister, +and indeed which many enjoy throughout +life, and he is competent, with +<a class="pagenum" name="page394" id="page394" title="page394"></a>moderate talent, to protect the interests +of his client, and with moderate mental +labour to make a respectable figure in +his profession. In like manner, four +or five years sedulous attendance on +lectures, dissections, and practice of +the hospitals, enables your physician +to see how little remedial power exists +in his boasted art; knowing this, he +feels pulses, and orders a recognized +routine of draughts and pills with the +formality which makes the great secret +of his profession. When the patient +dies, nature, of course, bears the +blame; and when nature, happily uninterfered +with, recovers his patient, +the doctor stands on tiptoe. Henceforward +his success is determined by +other than medical sciences: a pillbox +and pair, a good house in some +recognized locality, Sunday dinners, a +bit of a book, grand power of head-shaking, +shoulder-shrugging, bamboozling +weak-minded men and women, +and, if possible, a religious connexion.</p> + +<p>For the clergyman, it is only necessary +that he should be orthodox, +humble, and pious; that he should on +no occasion, right or wrong, set himself +in opposition to his ecclesiastical +superiors; that he should preach unpretending +sermons; that he should +never make jokes, nor understand the +jokes of another: this is all that he +wants to get on respectably. If he is +ambitious, and wishes one of the great +prizes, he must have been a free-thinking +reviewer, have written pamphlets, +or made a fuss about the Greek +particle, or, what will avail him more +than all, have been tutor to a minister +of state.</p> + +<p>Thus you perceive, for men whose +education is <i>intellectual</i>, but whose +practice is more or less <i>mechanical</i>, +you have many great, intermediate, +and little prizes in the lottery of life; +but where, on the contrary, are the +prizes for the historian, transmitting +to posterity the events, and men, and +times long since past; where the prize +of the analyst of mind, of the dramatic, +the epic, or the lyric poet, the essayist, +and all whose works are likely +to become the classics of future times; +where the prize of the public journalist, +who points the direction of public +opinion, and, himself without place, +station, or even name, teaches Governments +their duty, and prevents Ministers +of State becoming, by hardihood +or ignorance, intolerable evils; where +the prize of the great artist, who has +not employed himself making faces for +hire, but who has worked in loneliness +and isolation, living, like Barry, upon +raw apples and cold water, that he +might bequeath to his country some +memorial worthy the age in which he +lived, and the art <i>for</i> which he lived? +For these men, and such as these, are +no prizes in the lottery of life; a grateful +country sets apart for them no +places where they can retire in the +full enjoyment of their fame; condemned +to labour for their bread, not +in a dull mechanical routine of professional, +official, or business-like +duties, but in the most severe, most +wearing of all labour, <i>the labour of +the brain</i>, they end where they begun. +With struggling they begin life, with +struggling they make their way in life, +with struggling they end life; poverty +drives away friends, and reputation +multiplies enemies. The man whose +thoughts will become the thoughts +of our children, whose minds will be +reflected in the mirror of <i>his</i> mind, +who will store in their memories his +household words, and carry his lessons +in their hearts, dies not unwillingly, +for he has nothing in life to look forward +to; closes with indifference his +eyes on a prospect where no gleam of +hope sheds its sunlight on the broken +spirit; he dies, is borne by a few humble +friends to a lowly sepulchre, and +the newspapers of some days after +give us the following paragraph:—</p> + +<p>"We regret to be obliged to state +that Dr ——, or —— ——, Esq. (as +the case may be) died, on Saturday +last at his lodgings two pair back +in Back Place, Pimlico, (or) at his +cottage (a miserable cabin where he +retired to die) at Kingston-upon-Thames. +It is our melancholy duty +to inform our readers that this highly +gifted and amiable man, who for so +many years delighted and improved the +town, and who was a most strenuous +supporter of the (Radical or Conservative) +cause, (<i>it is necessary to set +forth this miserable statement to awaken +the gratitude of faction towards the family +of the dead</i>,) has left a rising family +totally unprovided for. We are satisfied +that it is only necessary to allude to +this distressing circumstance, in order +to enlist the sympathies, &c. &c., (in +short, <i>to get up a subscription</i>)."</p> + +<p>We confess we are at a loss to understand +why the above advertisement +<a class="pagenum" name="page395" id="page395" title="page395"></a>should be kept stereotyped, to be inserted +with only the interpolation of +name and date, when any man dies who +has devoted himself to pursuits of a +purely intellectual character. Nor are +we unable to discover in the melancholy, +and, as it would seem, unavoidable +fates of such men, substantial +grounds of that diversion of the aristocracy +of talent to the pursuit of professional +distinction, accompanied by +profit, of which our literature, art, and +science are now suffering, and will +continue to suffer, the consequences.</p> + +<p>In a highly artificial state of society, +where a command, not merely of the +essentials, but of some of the superfluities +of life are requisite as passports +to society, no man will willingly devote +himself to pursuits which will +render him an outlaw, and his family +dependent on the tardy gratitude of +an indifferent world. The stimulus of +fame will be inadequate to maintain +the energies even of <i>great</i> minds, in a +contest of which the victories are +wreaths of barren bays. Nor will any +man willingly consume the morning +of his days in amassing intellectual +treasures for posterity, when his +contemporaries behold him dimming +with unavailing tears his twilight +of existence, and dying with the worse +than deadly pang, the consciousness +that those who are nearest and dearest +to his heart must eat the bread of +charity. Nor is it quite clear to our +apprehension, that the prevalent system +of providing for merely intellectual +men, by a State annuity or pension, +is the best that can be devised: +it is hard that the pensioned aristocracy +of talent should be exposed to the +taunt of receiving the means of their +subsistence from this or that minister, +upon suppositions of this or that +ministerial assistance which, whether +true or false, cannot fail to derogate +from that independent dignity of mind +which is never extinguished in the +breast of the true aristocrat of talent, +save by unavailing struggles, long-continued, +with the unkindness of fortune.</p> + +<p>We wish the aristocracy of power to +think over this, and so very heartily +bid them farewell.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<a name="bw329s9" id="bw329s9"></a><h2>THE LOST LAMB.</h2> + +<h3>BY DELTA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>A shepherd laid upon his bed,</p> +<p>With many a sigh, his aching head,</p> +<p>For him—his favourite boy—on whom</p> +<p>Had fallen death, a sudden doom.</p> +<p>"But yesterday," with sobs he cried,</p> +<p>"Thou wert, with sweet looks, at my side,</p> +<p>Life's loveliest blossom, and to-day,</p> +<p>Woes me! thou liest a thing of clay!</p> +<p>It cannot be that thou art gone;</p> +<p>It cannot be, that now, alone,</p> +<p>A grey-hair'd man on earth am I,</p> +<p>Whilst thou within its bosom lie?</p> +<p>Methinks I see thee smiling there,</p> +<p>With beaming eyes, and sunny hair,</p> +<p>As thou were wont, when fondling me,</p> +<p>To clasp my neck from off my knee!</p> +<p>Was it thy voice? Again, oh speak,</p> +<p>My boy, or else my heart will break!"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Each adding to that father's woes,</p> +<p>A thousand bygone scenes arose;</p> +<p>At home—a field—each with its joy,</p> +<p>Each with its smile—and all his boy!</p> +<p>Now swell'd his proud rebellious breast,</p> +<p>With darkness and with doubt opprest;</p> +<p>Now sank despondent, while amain</p> +<p>Unnerving tears fell down like rain:</p> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page396" id="page396" title="page396"></a>Air—air—he breathed, yet wanted breath—</p> +<p>It was not life—it was not death—</p> +<p>But the drear agony between,</p> +<p>Where all is heard, and felt, and seen—</p> +<p>The wheels of action set ajar;</p> +<p>The body with the soul at war.</p> +<p>'Twas vain, 'twas vain; he could not find</p> +<p>A haven for his shipwreck'd mind;</p> +<p>Sleep shunn'd his pillow. Forth he went—</p> +<p>The noon from midnight's azure tent</p> +<p>Shone down, and, with serenest light,</p> +<p>Flooded the windless plains of night;</p> +<p>The lake in its clear mirror show'd</p> +<p>Each little star that twinkling glow'd;</p> +<p>Aspens, that quiver with a breath,</p> +<p>Were stirless in that hush of death;</p> +<p>The birds were nestled in their bowers;</p> +<p>The dewdrops glitter'd on the flowers;</p> +<p>Almost it seem'd as pitying Heaven</p> +<p>A while its sinless calm had given</p> +<p>To lower regions, lest despair</p> +<p>Should make abode for ever there;</p> +<p>So tranquil—so serene—so bright—</p> +<p>Brooded o'er earth the wings of night.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>O'ershadow'd by its ancient yew,</p> +<p>His sheep-cot met the shepherd's view;</p> +<p>And, placid, in that calm profound,</p> +<p>His silent flocks lay slumbering round:</p> +<p>With flowing mantle, by his side,</p> +<p>Sudden, a stranger he espied,</p> +<p>Bland was his visage, and his voice</p> +<p>Soften'd the heart, yet bade rejoice.—</p> +<p>"Why is thy mourning thus?" he said,</p> +<p>"Why thus doth sorrow bow thy head?</p> +<p>Why faltereth thus thy faith, that so</p> +<p>Abroad despairing thou dost go?</p> +<p>As if the God who gave thee breath,</p> +<p>Held not the keys of life and death!</p> +<p>When from the flocks that feed about,</p> +<p>A single lamb thou choosest out,</p> +<p>Is it not that which seemeth best</p> +<p>That thou dost take, yet leave the rest?</p> +<p>Yes! such thy wont; and, even so,</p> +<p>With his choice little ones below</p> +<p>Doth the Good Shepherd deal; he breaks</p> +<p>Their earthly bands, and homeward takes,</p> +<p>Early, ere sin hath render'd dim</p> +<p>The image of the seraphim!"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Heart-struck, the shepherd home return'd;</p> +<p>Again within his bosom burn'd</p> +<p>The light of faith; and, from that day,</p> +<p>He trode serene life's onward way.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<a name="bw329s10" id="bw329s10"></a> +<a class="pagenum" name="page397" id="page397" title="page397"></a> +<h2>COMTE.</h2> + +<div class="blkquot"><p><i>Cours de Philosophie Positive</i>, par M. Auguste Comte.</p></div> + +<p>It is pleasant to find in some extreme, +uncompromising, eccentric +work, written for the complete renovation +of man, a new establishment of +truth, little else, after all its tempest +of thought has swept over the mind, +than another confirmation of old, and +long-settled, and temperate views. +Our sober philosophy, like some familiar +landscape seen after a thunder +storm, comes out but the more distinct, +the brighter, and the more tranquil, +for the bursting cloud and the +windy tumult that had passed over its +surface. Some such experience have +we just had. Our Conservative principles, +our calm and patient manner +of viewing things, have rarely received +a stronger corroboration than from +the perusal or the extraordinary work +of M. Comte—a work written, assuredly, +for no such comfortable purpose, +but for the express object (so far as +we can at present state it to our readers) +of re-organizing political society, +by means of an intellectual reformation +amongst political thinkers.</p> + +<p>We would not be thought to throw +an idle sneer at those generous hopes +of the future destiny of society which +have animated some of the noblest +and most vigorous minds. It is no +part of a Conservative philosophy to +doubt on the broad question of the +further and continuous improvement +of mankind. Nor will the perusal of +M. Comte's work induce, or permit, +such a doubt. But while he leaves +with his reader a strong impression +of the unceasing development of social +man, he leaves a still stronger impression +of the futile or mischievous efforts +of those—himself amongst the +number—who are thrusting themselves +forward as the peculiar and exclusive +advocates of progress and improvement. +He exhibits himself in +the attitude of an innovator, as powerless +in effect as he is daring to design; +whilst, at the same time, he +deals a <i>crashing</i> blow (as upon rival +machinators) on that malignant party +in European politics, whether it call +itself liberal or of the movement, +whose most distinct aim seems to be +to unloose men from the bonds of +civil government. We, too, believe in +the silent, irresistible progress of human +society, but we believe also that +he is best working for posterity, as +well as for the welfare of his contemporaries, +who promotes order and +tranquil effort in his own generation, +by means of those elements of order +which his own generation supplies.</p> + +<p>That which distinguishes M. Comte's +work from all other courses of philosophy, +or treatises upon science, is the +attempt to reduce to the <i>scientific method</i> +of cogitation the affairs of human +society—morality, politics; in short, all +those general topics which occupy our +solitary and perplexed meditation, or +sustain the incessant strife of controversy. +These are to constitute a new +science, to be called <i>Social Physics</i>, or +<i>Sociology</i>. To apply the Baconian, +or, as it is here called, the positive +method, to man in all phases of his +existence—to introduce the same fixed, +indissoluble, imperturbable order in +our ideas of morals, politics, and history, +that we attain to astronomy and +mechanics, is the bold object of his +labours. He does not here set forth +a model of human society based on +scientific conclusions; something of +this kind is promised us in a future +work; in the present undertaking he +is especially anxious to compel us to +think on all such topics in the scientific +method, <i>and in no other</i>. For be +it known, that science is not only weak +in herself, and has been hitherto incompetent +to the task of unravelling +the complicate proceedings of humanity, +but she has also a great rival in +the form of theologic method, wherein +the mind seeks a solution for its +difficulties in a power above nature. +The human being has contracted an +inveterate habit of viewing itself as +standing in a peculiar relation to a +supreme Architect and Governor of +the world—a habit which in many +ways, direct and indirect, interferes, it +seems, with the application of the positive +method. This habit is to be +corrected; such supreme Architect +and Governor is to be dismissed from +<a class="pagenum" name="page398" id="page398" title="page398"></a>the imagination of men; science is to +supply the sole mode of thought, and +humanity to be its only object.</p> + +<p>We have called M. Comte's an extraordinary +book, and this is an epithet +which our readers are already +fully prepared to apply. But the book, +in our judgment, is extraordinary in +more senses than one. It is as remarkable +for the great mental energy +it displays, for its originality and occasional +profundity of thought, as it +is for the astounding conclusions to +which it would conduct us, for its +bold paradoxes, and for what we can +designate no otherwise than its egregious +errors. As a discipline of the +mind, so far as a full appreciation is +concerned of the scientific method, it +cannot be read without signal advantage. +The book is altogether an anomaly; +exhibiting the strangest mixture +that ever mortal work betrayed +of manifold blunder and great intellectual +power. The man thinks at +times with the strength of a giant. +Neither does he fail, as we have already +gathered, in the rebellious and +destructive propensities for which +giants have been of old renowned. +Fable tells us how they could have +no gods to reign over them, and how +they threatened to drive Jupiter himself +from the skies. Our intellectual +representative of the race nourishes +designs of equal temerity. Like his +earth-born predecessors, his rage, we +may be sure, will be equally vain. +No thunder will be heard, neither will +the hills move to overwhelm him; but +in due course of time he will lie down, +and be covered up with his own earth, +and the heavens will be as bright and +stable as before, and still the abode of +the same unassailable Power.</p> + +<p>For the <i>style</i> of M. Comte's work, +it is not commendable. The philosophical +writers of his country are in +general so distinguished for excellence +in this particular, their exposition of +thought is so remarkably felicitous, +that a failure in a Frenchman in the +mere art of writing, appears almost as +great an anomaly as any of the others +which characterize this production. +During the earlier volumes, which are +occupied with a review of the recognized +branches of science, the vices of +style are kept within bounds, but +after he has entered on what is the +great subject of all his lucubrations, +his social physics, they grow distressingly +conspicuous. The work extends +to six volumes, some of them of unusually +large capacity; and by the time +we arrive at the last and the most bulky, +the style, for its languor, its repetitions, +its prolixity, has become intolerable.</p> + +<p>Of a work of this description, distinguished +by such bold features, remarkable +for originality and subtlety, +as well as for surprising hardihood +and eccentricity of thought, and bearing +on its surface a manner of exposition +by no means attractive, we imagine +that our readers will not be +indisposed to receive some notice. +Its errors—supposing we are capable +of coping with them—are worthy of +refutation. Moreover, as we have +hinted, the impression it conveys is, +in relation to politics, eminently Conservative; +for, besides that he has +exposed, with peculiar vigour, the +utter inadequacy of the movement, or +liberal party, to preside over the organization +of society, there is nothing +more calculated to render us content +with an <i>empirical</i> condition of tolerable +well-being, than the exhibition +(and such, we think, is here presented +to us) of a strong mind palpably at +fault in its attempt to substitute, out +of its own theory of man, a better +foundation for the social structure than +is afforded by the existing unphilosophical +medley of human thought. +Upon that portion of the <i>Cours de +Philosophie Positive</i> which treats of +the sciences usually so called, we do +not intend to enter, nor do the general +remarks we make apply to it. Our +limited object is to place our reader at +the point of view which M. Comte +takes in his new science of Sociology; +and to do this with any justice to him +or to ourselves, in the space we can +allot to the subject, will be a task of +sufficient difficulty.</p> + +<p>And first, as to the title of the work, +<i>Philosophie Positive</i>, which has, perhaps, +all this while been perplexing +the reader. The reasons which induced +M. Comte to adopt it, shall be +given in his own words; they could +not have been appreciated until some +general notion had been given of the +object he had in view.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"There is doubtless," he says, in his +<i>Avertissement</i>, "a close resemblance between +my <i>Philosophie Positive</i>, and what +the English, especially since the days of +Newton, understand by <i>Natural Philosophy</i>. +<a class="pagenum" name="page399" id="page399" title="page399"></a>But I would not adopt this last +expression, any more than that of <i>Philosophy +of the Sciences</i>, which would have +perhaps been still more precise, because +neither of these has yet been extended to +all orders of phenomena, whilst <i>Philosophie +Positive</i>, in which I comprehend the +study of the social phenomena, as well as +all others, designs a uniform manner of +reasoning applicable to all subjects on which +the human mind can be exerted. Besides +which, the expression <i>Natural Philosophy</i> +is employed in England to denote the +aggregate of the several sciences of observation, +considered even in their most +minute details; whereas, by the title of +<i>Philosophie Positive</i>, I intimate, with +regard to the several positive sciences, a +study of them only in their generalities, +conceiving them as submitted to a uniform +method, and forming the different parts of +a general plan of research. The term +which I have been led to construct is, +therefore, at once more extended and more +restricted than other denominations, which +are so far similar that they have reference +to the same fundamental class of ideas."</p></div> + +<p>This very announcement of M. +Comte's intention to comprehend in +his course of natural philosophy the +study of the several phenomena, compels +us to enquire how far these are +fit subjects for the strict application +of the scientific method. We waive +the metaphysical question of the free +agency of man, and the theological +question of the occasional interference +of the Divine Power; and presuming +these to be decided in a manner favourable +to the project of our Sociologist, +we still ask if it be possible to make +of the affairs of society—legislation +and politics, for instance—a department +of science?</p> + +<p>The mere multiplicity and complication +of facts in this department of +enquiry, have been generally regarded +as rendering such an attempt hopeless. +In any social problem of importance, +we invariably feel that to embrace the +whole of the circumstances, with all +their results and dependencies, is really +out of our power, and we are forced +to content ourselves with a judgment +formed on what appear to us the principal +facts. Thus arise those limited +truths, admitting of exceptions, of +qualification, of partial application, on +which we are fain to rely in the conduct +of human affairs. In framing his +measures, how often is the statesman, +or the jurist, made aware of the utter +impossibility of guarding them against +every species of objection, or of so +constructing them that they shall present +an equal front on every side! +How still more keenly is the speculative +politician made to feel, when giving +in his adherence to some great +line of policy, that he cannot gather +in under his conclusions <i>all</i> the political +truths he is master of! He reluctantly +resigns to his opponent the possession, +or at least the usufruct, of a +certain class of truths which he is +obliged to postpone to others of more +extensive or more urgent application.</p> + +<p>But this multiplicity and complication +of facts may merely render the +task of the Sociologist extremely difficult, +not impossible; and the half +truths, and the perplexity of thought +above alluded to, may only prove that +his scientific task has not yet been +accomplished. Nothing is here presented +in the nature of the subject to +exclude the strict application of <i>the +method</i>. There is, however, one essential, +distinctive attribute of human society +which constitutes a difference in +the nature of the subject, so as to +render impossible the same scientific +survey and appreciation of the social +phenomena of the world that we may +expect to obtain of the physical. This +is the gradual and incessant <i>developement</i> +which humanity has displayed, +and is still displaying. Who can tell +us that that <i>experience</i> on which a +fixed and positive theory of social man +is to be formed, is all before us? +From age to age that experience is +enlarging.</p> + +<p>In all recognized branches of science +nature remains the same, and continually +repeats herself; she admits of no +novelty; and what appears new to us, +from our late discovery of it, is as old +as the most palpable sequence of +facts that, generation after generation, +catches the eye of childhood. +The new discovery may disturb our +theories, it disturbs not the condition +of things. All is still the same as it +ever was. What we possessed of real +knowledge is real knowledge still. We +sit down before a maze of things bewildering +enough; but the vast mechanism, +notwithstanding all its labyrinthian +movements, is constant to +itself, and presents always the same +problem to the observer. But in this +department of humanity, in this sphere +of social existence, the case is otherwise. +The human being, with hand, +with intellect, is incessantly at work—has +a progressive movement—<i>grows</i> +<a class="pagenum" name="page400" id="page400" title="page400"></a>from age to age. He discovers, he +invents, he speculates; his own inventions +react upon the inventor; his own +thoughts, creeds, speculations, become +agents in the scene. Here <i>new facts</i> +are actually from time to time starting +into existence; new elements are introduced +into society, which science +could not have foreseen; for if they +could have been foreseen, they would +already have been there. A new +creed, even a new machine, may confound +the wisest of speculations. Man +is, in relation to the science that would +survey society, a <i>creator</i>. In short, +that stability in the order of events, +that invariable recurrence of the same +linked series, on which science depends +for its very existence, here, in +some measure, fails us. In such degree, +therefore, as humanity can be +described as progressive, or developing +itself, in such degree is it an untractable +subject for the scientific method. +We have but one world, but +one humanity before us, but one specimen +of this self developing creature, +and that perhaps but half grown, but +half developed. How can we know +whereabouts <i>we are</i> in our course, and +what is coming next? We want the +history of some extinguished world in +which a humanity has run its full +career; we need to extend our observation +to other planets peopled with +similar but variously developed inhabitants, +in order scientifically to understand +such a race as ours.</p> + +<p>What, for example, could be more +safely stated as an eternal law of society +than that of property?—a law +which so justly governs all our political +reasonings, and determines the +character of our political measures +the most prospective—a law which +M. Comte has not failed himself to +designate as fundamental. And yet, +by what right of demonstration can we +pronounce this law to be inherent in +humanity, so that it shall accompany +the race during every stage of its +progress? That industry should be +rewarded by a personal, exclusive +property in the fruits of industry, is +the principle consecrated by our law +of property, and to which the spontaneous +passions of mankind have in +all regions of the earth conducted. +Standing where we do, and looking +out as far as our intellectual vision +can extend, we pronounce it to be the +basis of society; but if we added +that, as long as the world lasts, it +must continue to be the basis of society, +that there are no elements in man to +furnish forth, if circumstances favoured +their development, a quite different +principle for the social organization, +we feel that we should be overstepping +the modest bounds of truth, and +stating our proposition in terms far +wider and more absolute than we +were warranted. Experiments have +been made, and a tendency has repeatedly +been manifested, to frame +an association of men in which the +industry of the individual should have +its immediate reward and motive in +the participated prosperity of the general +body—where the good of the +whole should be felt as the interest +of each. <i>How</i> such a principle is to +be established, we confess ourselves +utterly at a loss to divine; but that +no future events unforeseen by us, +no unexpected modification of the +circumstances affecting human character, +shall ever develop and establish +such a principle—this is what +no scientific mind would venture to +assert. Our knowledge is fully commensurate +to our sphere of activity, +nor need it, nor <i>can</i> it, pass beyond +that sphere. We know that the law +of property now forms the basis of +society; we know that an attempt to +abrogate it would be the signal for +war and anarchy, and we know this +also, that <i>at no time</i> can its opposite +principle be established by force, because +its establishment will require a +wondrous harmony in the social +body; and a civil war, let the victory +fall where it may, must leave mankind +full of dissension, rancour, and +revenge. Our convictions, therefore, +for all practical purposes, can receive +no confirmation. If the far future is +to be regulated by different principles, +of what avail the knowledge of +them, or how can they be intelligible +to us, to whom are denied the circumstances +necessary for their establishment, +and for the demonstration of +their reasonableness?</p> + +<p>"The great Aristotle himself," +says M. Comte, speaking of the impossibility +of any man elevating himself +above the circumstances of his +age—"The great Aristotle himself, +the profoundest thinker of ancient +times, (<i>la plus forte tête de toute l'antiquité</i>,) +could not conceive of a state +of society not based on slavery, the +irrevocable abolition of which commenced +a few generations afterwards."—Vol. +<a class="pagenum" name="page401" id="page401" title="page401"></a>iv. p.38. In the sociology +of Aristotle, slavery would have +been a fundamental law.</p> + +<p>There is another consideration, not +unworthy of being mentioned, which +bears upon this matter. In one portion +of M. Comte's work, (we cannot +now lay our hand upon the passage,) +the question comes before him of the +comparative <i>happiness</i> of the savage +and the civilized man. He will not +entertain it, refuses utterly to take +cognizance of the question, and contents +himself with asserting the fuller +<i>development</i> of his nature displayed +by the civilized man. M. Comte +felt that science had no scale for this +thing happiness. It was not ponderable, +nor measurable, nor was there +an uniformity of testimony to be collected +thereon. How many of our +debates and controversies terminate +in a question of this kind—of the +comparative happiness of two several +conditions? Such questions are, for +the most part, practically decided by +those who have to <i>feel</i>; but to estimate +happiness by and for the feelings +of others, would be the task of +science. Some future Royal Society +must be called upon to establish a +<i>standard measure</i> for human felicity.</p> + +<p>We are speaking, it will be remembered, +of the production of a science. +A scientific discipline of mind is undoubtedly +available in the examination +of social questions, and may be +of eminent utility to the moralist, the +jurist, and the politician—though it +is worthy of observation that even the +habit of scientific thought, if not in +some measure tempered to the occasion, +may display itself very inconveniently +and prejudicially in the determination +of such questions. Our +author, for instance, after satisfying +himself that marriage is a fundamental +law of society, is incapable of +tolerating any infraction whatever of +this law in the shape of a divorce. +He would give to it the rigidity of +a law of mechanics; he finds there +should be cohesion here, and he will +not listen to a single case of separation: +forgetful that a law of society +may even be the more stable for admitting +exceptions which secure for it +the affection of those by whom it is +to be reverenced and obeyed.</p> + +<p>With relation to the <i>past</i>, and in +one point of view—namely, so far as +regards the development of man in +his speculative career—our Sociologist +has endeavoured to supply a law +which shall meet the peculiar exigencies +of his case, and enable him to +take a scientific survey of the history +of a changeful and progressive being. +At the threshold of his work we encounter +the announcement of a <i>new +law</i>, which has regulated the development +of the human mind from its +rudest state of intellectual existence. +As this law lies at the basis of M. +Comte's system—as it is perpetually +referred to throughout his work—as +it is by this law he proceeds to view +history in a scientific manner—as, +moreover, it is by aid of this law that +he undertakes to explain the <i>provisional +existence</i> of all theology, explaining +it in the past, and removing it +from the future—it becomes necessary +to enter into some examination of its +claims, and we must request our readers' +attention to the following statement +of it:—</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"In studying the entire development +of the human intelligence in its different +spheres of activity, from its first efforts +the most simple up to our own days, I +believe I have discovered a great fundamental +law, to which it is subjected by an +invariable necessity, and which seems to +me capable of being firmly established, +whether on those proofs which are furnished +by a knowledge of our organization, +or on those historical verifications which +result from an attentive examination of +the past. The law consists in this—that +each of our principal conceptions, each +branch of our knowledge, passes successively +through three different states of theory: +the <i>theologic</i>, or fictitious; the <i>metaphysic</i>, +or abstract; the scientific, or <i>positive</i>. In +other terms, the human mind, by its nature, +employs successively, in each of its researches, +three methods of philosophizing, +the character of which is essentially different, +and even radically opposed; at first +the theologic method, then the metaphysical, +and last the positive method. Hence +three distinct philosophies, or general +systems of conceptions on the aggregate of +phenomena, which mutually exclude each +other; the first is the necessary starting-point +of the human intelligence; the third +is its fixed and definite state; the second +is destined to serve the purpose only of +transition.</p> + +<p>"In the <i>theologic</i> state, the human mind, +directing its researches to the intimate +nature of things, the first causes and the +final causes of all those effects which arrest +its attention, in a word, towards an absolute +knowledge of things, represents to itself +<a class="pagenum" name="page402" id="page402" title="page402"></a>the phenomena as produced by the direct +and continuous action of supernatural +agents, more or less numerous, whose +arbitrary intervention explains all the apparent +anomalies of the universe.</p> + +<p>"In the <i>metaphysic</i> state, which is, in +its essence, a modification of the former, +the supernatural agents are displaced by +abstract forces, veritable entities (personified +abstractions) inherent in things, and +conceived as capable of engendering by +themselves all the observed phenomena—whose +explanation, thenceforth, consists in +assigning to each its corresponding entity.</p> + +<p>"At last, in the <i>positive</i> state the human +mind, recognizing the impossibility of +obtaining absolute notions, renounces the +search after the origin and destination of +the universe, and the knowledge of the +intimate causes of phenomena, to attach +itself exclusively to the discovery, by the +combined efforts of ratiocination and observation, +of their effective laws; that is to +say, their invariable relations of succession +and of similitude. The explanation of +things, reduced now to its real terms, becomes +nothing more than the connexion +established between the various individual +phenomena and certain general facts, the +number of which the progress of science +tends continually to diminish.</p> + +<p>"The <i>theologic</i> system has reached the +highest state of perfection of which it is +susceptible, when it has substituted the +providential action of one only being for +the capricious agency of the numerous +independent divinities who had previously +been imagined. In like manner, the last +term of the <i>metaphysic</i> system consists in +conceiving, instead of the different special +entities, one great general entity, <i>nature</i>, +considered as the only source of all phenomena. +The perfection of the <i>positive</i> +system, towards which it unceasingly tends, +though it is not probable it can ever attain +to it, would be the ability to represent all +observable phenomena as particular cases +of some one general fact; such, for instance, +as that of gravitation."—Vol. I. +p. 5.</p></div> + +<p>After some very just, and indeed +admirable, observations on the necessity, +or extreme utility, of a theologic +hypothesis at an early period of mental +development, in order to promote +any systematic thought whatever, he +proceeds thus:—</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"It is easily conceivable that our understanding, +compelled to proceed by degrees +almost imperceptible, could not pass +abruptly, and without an intermediate +stage, from the <i>theologic</i> to the <i>positive</i> +philosophy. Theology and physics are so +profoundly incompatible, their conceptions +have a character so radically opposed, that +before renouncing the one to employ exclusively +the other, the mind must make +use of intermediate conceptions of a bastard +character, fit, for that very reason, gradually +to operate the transition. Such is +the natural destination of metaphysical +conceptions; they have no other real utility. +By substituting, in the study of phenomena, +for supernatural directive agency +an inseparable entity residing in things, +(although this be conceived at first merely +as an emanation from the former,) man +habituates himself, by degrees, to consider +only the facts themselves, the notion of +these metaphysical agents being gradually +subtilized, till they are no longer in the +eyes of men of intelligence any thing but +the names of abstractions. It is impossible +to conceive by what other process our +understanding could pass from considerations +purely supernatural, to considerations +purely natural, from the theologic to the +positive <i>régime</i>."—P. 13.</p></div> + +<p>We need hardly say that we enter +our protest against the supposition +that theology is not the <i>last</i>, as well +as the <i>first</i>, of our forms of thought—against +the assertion that is here, and +throughout the work, made or implied, +that the scientific method, rigidly applied +in its appropriate field of enquiry, +would be found incompatible +with the great argument of an intelligent +Cause, and would throw the +whole subject of theology out of the +range of human knowledge. It would +be superfluous for us to re-state that +argument; and our readers would probably +be more displeased to have presented +before them a hostile view of +this subject, though for the purpose +only of controversy, than they would +be edified by a repetition of those reasonings +which have long since brought +conviction to their minds. We will +content ourselves, therefore, with this +protest, and with adding—as a fact of +experience, which, in estimating a law +of development, may with peculiar +propriety be insisted on—that hitherto +no such incompatibility has made +itself evident. Hitherto science, or +the method of thinking, which its +cultivation requires and induces, has +not shown itself hostile to the first +great article of religion—that on +which revelation proceeds to erect all +the remaining articles of our faith. +If it is a fact that, in rude times, men +began their speculative career by assigning +individual phenomena to the +immediate causation of supernatural +powers, it is equally a fact that they +<a class="pagenum" name="page403" id="page403" title="page403"></a>have hitherto, in the most enlightened +times, terminated their inductive labours +by assigning that <i>unity</i> and +<i>correlation</i> which science points out +in the universe of things to an ordaining +intelligence. We repeat, as a +matter of experience, it is as rare in +this age to find a reflective man who +does not read <i>thought</i> in this unity +and correlation of material phenomena, +as it would have been, in some +rube superstitious period, to discover +an individual who refused to see, in +any one of the specialities around him, +the direct interference of a spirit or +demon. In our own country, men of +science are rather to blame for a too +detailed, a puerile and injudicious, manner +of treating this great argument, +than for any disposition to desert it.</p> + +<p>Contenting ourselves with this protest, +we proceed to the consideration +of the <i>new law</i>. That there is, in the +statement here made of the course +pursued in the development of speculative +thought, a measure of truth; +and that, in several subjects, the course +here indicated may be traced, will +probably, by every one who reads the +foregoing extracts, be at once admitted. +But assuredly very few will read +it without a feeling of surprise at finding +what (under certain limitations) +they would have welcomed in the form +of a general observation, proclaimed +to them as a <i>law</i>—a scientific law—which +from its nature admits of no +exception; at finding it stated that +every branch of human knowledge +must of necessity pass through these +three theoretic stages. In the case of +some branches of knowledge, it is impossible +to point out what can be understood +as its several theologic and +metaphysic stages; and even in cases +where M. Comte has himself applied +these terms, it is extremely difficult to +assign to them a meaning in accordance +with that which they bear in this +statement of his law; as, for instance, +in his application of them to his own +science of social physics. But we +need not pause on this. What a palpable +fallacy it is to suppose, because +M. Comte find the positive and theologic +methods incompatible, that, historically +speaking, and in the minds of +men, which certainly admit of stranger +commixtures than this, they should +"mutually exclude each other"—that, +in short, men have not been all along, +in various degrees and proportions, +both <i>theologic</i> and <i>positive</i>.</p> + +<p>What is it, we ask, that M. Comte +means by the <i>succession</i> of these several +stages or modes of thinking? Does +he mean that what is here called the +positive method of thought is not +equally <i>spontaneous</i> to the human mind +as the theological, but depends on it +for its development? Hardly so. +The predominance of the positive method, +or its complete formation, may +be postponed; but it clearly has an +origin and an existence independent +of the theological. No barbarian ever +deified, or supernaturalized, every +process around him; there must always +have been a portion of his experience +entertained merely <i>as experience</i>. +The very necessity man has +to labour for his subsistence, brings him +into a practical acquaintance with the +material world, which induces observation, +and conducts towards a natural +philosophy. If he is a theologian the +first moment he gives himself up to +meditation, he is on the road to the +Baconian method the very day he begins +to labour. The rudest workman +uses the lever; the mathematician +follows and calculates the law which +determines the power it bestows; +here we have industry and then science, +but what room for the intervention of +theology?</p> + +<p>Or does M. Comte mean this only—which +we presume to be the case—that +these methods of thought are, in +succession, predominant and brought +to maturity? If so, what necessity +for this <i>metaphysic</i> apparatus for the +sole purpose of <i>transition</i>? If each +of these great modes, the positive and +theological, has its independent source, +and is equally spontaneous—if they +have, in fact, been all along contemporary, +though in different stages of +development, the function attributed +to the metaphysic mode is utterly superfluous; +there can be no place for it; +there is no transition for it to operate. +And what can be said of <i>a law +of succession</i> in which there is no relation +of cause and effect, or of invariable +sequence, between the phenomena?</p> + +<p>Either way the position of M. +Comte is untenable. If he intends +that his two great modes of thought, +the theologic and the positive, (between +which the metaphysic performs +the function of transition,) are +<i>not</i> equally spontaneous, but that the +one must in the order of nature precede +the other; then, besides that this +is an unfounded supposition, it would +<a class="pagenum" name="page404" id="page404" title="page404"></a>follow—since the mind, or <i>organization</i>, +of man remains from age to age +the same in its fundamental powers—that, +at this very time, no man could +be inducted into the positive state of +any branch of knowledge, without +first going through its theologic and +metaphysic. Truth must be expounded +through a course of errors. Science +must be eternally postponed, in every +system of education, to theology, and +a theology of the rudest description—a +result certainly not contemplated by +M. Comte. If, on the other hand, he +intends that they <i>are</i> equally spontaneous +in their character, equally native +to the mind, then, we repeat, +what becomes of the elaborate and +"indispensable" part ascribed to the +<i>metaphysic</i> of effectuating a transition +between them? And how can we +describe that as a scientific <i>law</i> in +which there is confessedly no immediate +relation of cause and effect, or +sequency, established? The statement, +if true, manifestly requires to +be resolved into the law, or laws, capable +of explaining it.</p> + +<p>Perhaps our readers have all this +while suspected that we are acting in +a somewhat captious manner towards +M. Comte; they have, perhaps, concluded +that this author could not have +here required their assent, strictly +speaking, to a <i>law</i>, but that he used +the term vaguely, as many writers +have done—meaning nothing more +by it than a course of events which +has frequently been observed to take +place; and under this impression they +may be more disposed to receive the +measure of truth contained in it than +to cavil at the form of the statement. +But indeed M. Comte uses the language +of science in no such vague +manner; he requires the same assent +to this law that we give to any one +of the recognized laws of science—to +that of gravitation for instance, +to which he himself likens it, pronouncing +it, in a subsequent part of +his work, to have been as incontrovertibly +established. Upon this law, +think what we may of it, M. Comte +leans throughout all his progress; he +could not possibly dispense with it; +on its stability depends his whole social +science; by it, as we have already +intimated, he becomes master of the +past and of the future; and an appreciation +of its necessity to him, at once +places us at that point of view from +which M. Comte contemplates our +mundane affairs.</p> + +<p>It is his object to put the scientific +method in complete possession of the +whole range of human thought, especially +of the department, hitherto unreduced +to subjection, of social phenomena. +Now there is a great rival in +the field—theology—which, besides +imparting its own supernatural tenets, +influences our modes of thinking on +almost all social questions. Theology +cannot itself be converted into a branch +of science; all those tenets by which it +sways the hopes and fears of men are +confessedly above the sphere of science: +if science, therefore, is to rule absolutely, +it must remove theology. But +it can only remove by explaining; by +showing how it came there, and how, +in good time, it is destined to depart. +If the scientific method is entirely to +predominate, it must explain religion, +as it must explain every thing that +exists, or has existed; and it must also +reveal the law of its departure—otherwise +it cannot remain sole mistress of +the speculative mind. Such is the +office which the law of development +we have just considered is intended to +fulfil; how far it is capable of accomplishing +its purpose we must now leave +our readers to decide.</p> + +<p>Having thus, as he presumes, cleared +the ground for the absolute and exclusive +dominion of the positive method, +M. Comte proceeds to erect the <i>hierarchy</i>, +as he very descriptively calls it, +of the several sciences. His classification +of these is based on the simplest +and most intelligible principle. +We think that we rather add to, than +diminish from, the merits of this classification, +when we say, that it is such +as seems spontaneously to arise to any +reflective mind engaged in a review of +human knowledge. Commencing with +the most simple, general, and independent +laws, it proceeds to those +which are more complicated, which +presume the existence of other laws; +in such manner that at every stage of +our scientific progress we are supporting +ourselves on the knowledge acquired +in the one preceding.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"The positive philosophy," he tells us, +"falls naturally into five divisions, or five +fundamental sciences, whose order of succession +is determined by the necessary or +invariable subordination (estimated according +to no hypothetical opinions) of their several +phenomena; these are, astronomy, +<a class="pagenum" name="page405" id="page405" title="page405"></a>mechanics, (<i>la physique</i>,) chemistry, physiology, +and lastly, social physics. The first +regards the phenomena the most general, +the most abstract, the most remote from +humanity; they influence all others, without +being influenced by them. The phenomena +considered by the last are, on the +contrary, the most complicated, the most +concrete, the most directly interesting to +man; they depend more or less on all the +preceding phenomena, without exercising +on them any influence. Between these +two extremes, the degrees of speciality, +of complication and personality, of phenomena, +gradually increase, as well as their +successive dependence."—Vol. I. p. 96.</p></div> + +<p>The principle of classification is excellent, +but is there no rank dropt out +of this <i>hierarchy</i>? The metaphysicians, +or psychologists, who are wont +to consider themselves as standing at +the very summit—where are they? +They are dismissed from their labours—their +place is occupied by others—and +what was considered as having +substance and reality in their proceedings, +is transferred to the head of +physiology. The phrenologist is admitted +into the hierarchy of science as +an honest, though hitherto an unpractised, +and not very successful labourer; +the metaphysician, with his class of +internal observations, is entirely scouted. +M. Comte considers the <i>mind</i> as +one of those abstract entities which it +is the first business of the positive +philosophy to discard. He speaks of +man, of his organization, of his thought, +but not, scientifically, of his <i>mind</i>. +This entity, this occult cause, belongs +to the <i>metaphysic</i> stage of theorizing. +"There is no place," he cries, "for this +illusory psychology, the last transformation +of theology!"—though, by the +way, so far as a belief in this abstract +entity of mind is concerned, the <i>metaphysic</i> +condition of our knowledge appears +to be quite as old, quite as +primitive, as any conception whatever of +theology. Now, whether M. Comte +be right in this preference of the +phrenologist, we will not stay to discuss—it +were too wide a question; +but thus much we can briefly and indisputably +show, that he utterly misconceives, +as well as underrates, the +<i>kind of research</i> to which psychologists +are addicted. As M. Comte's style +is here unusually vivacious, we will +quote the whole passage. Are we +uncharitable in supposing that the +prospect of demolishing, at one fell +swoop, the brilliant reputations of a +whole class of Parisian <i>savans</i>, added +something to the piquancy of the +style?</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"Such has gradually become, since the +time of Bacon, the preponderance of the +positive philosophy; it has at present assumed +indirectly so great an ascendant +over those minds even which have been +most estranged from it, that metaphysicians +devoted to the study of our intelligence, +can no longer hope to delay the +fall of their pretended science, but by presenting +their doctrines as founded also +upon the observation of facts. For this +purpose they have, in these later times, +attempted to distinguish, by a very singular +subtilty, two sorts of observations of +equal importance, the one external, the +other internal; the last of which is exclusively +destined for the study of intellectual +phenomena. This is not the place to +enter into the special discussion of this +sophism. I will limit myself to indicate +the principal consideration, which clearly +proves that this pretended direct contemplation +of the mind by itself, is a pure +illusion.</p> + +<p>"Not a long while ago men imagined +they had explained vision by saying that +the luminous action of bodies produces on +the retina pictures representative of +external forms and colours. To this the +physiologists [query, the <i>physiologists</i>] +have objected, with reason, that if it was +<i>as images</i> that the luminous impressions +acted, there needed another eye within +the eye to behold them. Does not a +similar objection hold good still more +strikingly in the present case?</p> + +<p>"It is clear, in fact, from an invincible +necessity, that the human mind can observe +directly all phenomena except its +own. For by whom can the observation +be made? It is conceivable that, +relatively to moral phenomena, man can observe +himself in regard to the passions +which animate him, from this anatomical +reason, that the organs which are the seat +of them are distinct from those destined +to the function of observation. Though +each man has had occasion to make on +himself such observations, yet they can +never have any great scientific importance; +and the best means of knowing the passions +will be always to observe them without; +[<i>indeed</i>!] for every state of passion +very energetic—that is to say, precisely +those which it would be most essential to +examine, are necessarily incompatible with +the state of observation. But as to observing +in the same manner intellectual +phenomena, while they are proceeding, it +is manifestly impossible. The thinking +individual cannot separate himself in two +parts, of which the one shall reason, and +<a class="pagenum" name="page406" id="page406" title="page406"></a>the other observe it reasoning. The organ +observed and the organ observing being +in this case identical, how can observation +be carried on?</p> + +<p>"This pretended psychological method +is thus radically absurd. And only consider +to what procedures profoundly contradictory +it immediately conducts! On +the other hand, they recommend you to +isolate yourself as much as possible from +all external sensation; and, above all, +they interdict you every intellectual exercise; +for if you were merely occupied in +making the most simple calculation, what +would become of your <i>internal</i> observation? +On the other hand, after having +thus, by dint of many precautions, attained +to a perfect state of intellectual slumber, +you are to occupy yourself in contemplating +the operations passing in your mind—while +there is no longer any thing passing +there. Our descendants will one day see +these ludicrous pretensions transferred to +the stage."—P. 34.</p></div> + +<p>They seem transferred to the stage +already—so completely burlesqued is +the whole process on which the psychologist +bases his results. He does not +pretend to observe the mind itself; but +he says, you can remember previous +states of consciousness, whether of +passion or of intellectual effort, and +pay renewed attention to them. And +assuredly there is no difficulty in understanding +this. When, indeed, M. +Cousin, after being much perplexed +with the problem which Kant had +thrown out to him, of objective and +subjective truth, comes back to the +public and tells them, in a second edition +of his work, that he has succeeded +in discovering, in the inmost recesses +of the mind, and at a depth of the +consciousness to which neither he +nor any other had before been able to +penetrate, this very sense of the absolute +in truth of which he was in +search—something very like the account +which M. Conte gives, may be +applicable. But when M. Cousin, or +other psychologists, in the ordinary +course of their investigations, observe +mental phenomena, they simply pay +attention to what memory brings them +of past experiences; observations +which are not only a legitimate source +of knowledge, but which are continually +made, with more or less accuracy, +by every human being. If they are +impossible according to the doctrines +of phrenology, let phrenology look to +this, and rectify her blunder in the +best way, as speedily as she can. M. +Comte may think fit to depreciate the +labours of the metaphysician; but it +is not to the experimental philosopher +alone that he is indebted for that positive +method which he expounds +with so exclusive an enthusiasm. M. +Comte is a phrenologist; he adopts +the fundamental principles of Gall's +system, but repudiates, as consummately +absurd, the list of organs, and +the minute divisions of the skull, +which at present obtain amongst +phrenologists. How came he, a phrenologist, +so far and no further, but from +certain information gathered from his +consciousness, or his memory, which +convicted phrenology of error? And +how can he, or any other, rectify this +erroneous division of the cranium, and +establish a more reasonable one, unless +by a course of craniological observations +directed and confirmed by +those internal observations which he +is pleased here to deride?</p> + +<p>His hierarchy being erected, he +next enters on a review of the several +received sciences, marking throughout +the successful, or erroneous, application +of the positive method. This +occupies three volumes. It is a portion +of the work which we are restricted +from entering on; nor shall we +deviate from the line we have prescribed +to ourselves. But before +opening the fourth volume, in which +he treats of social physics, it will not +be beside our object to take a glance at +the <i>method</i> itself, as applied in the +usual field of scientific investigation, +to nature, as it is called—to inorganic +matter, to vegetable and animal life.</p> + +<p>We are not here determining the +merits of M. Comte in his exposition +of the scientific method; we take it +as we find it; and, in unsophisticated +mood, we glance at the nature of this +mental discipline—to make room for +which, it will be remembered, so wide +a territory is to be laid waste.</p> + +<p>Facts, or phenomena, classed according +to their similitude or the law +of their succession—such is the material +of science. All enquiry into +causes, into substance, into being, +pronounced impertinent and nugatory; +the very language in which +such enquiries are couched not allowed, +perhaps, to have a meaning—such +is the supreme dictate of the method, +and all men yield to it at least a nominal +submission. Very different is +the aspect which science presents to +us in these severe generalities, than +<a class="pagenum" name="page407" id="page407" title="page407"></a>when she lectures fluently before gorgeous +orreries; or is heard from behind +a glittering apparatus, electrical +or chemical; or is seen, gay and sportive +as a child, at her endless game of +unwearying experiment. Here she is +the harsh and strict disciplinarian. The +museful, meditative spirit passes from +one object of its wonder to another, and +finds, at every pause it makes, that +science is as strenuous in forbidding +as in satisfying enquiry. The planet +rolls through space—ask not how!—the +mathematician will tell you at +what rate it flies—let his figures suffice. +A thousand subtle combinations +are taking place around you, producing +the most marvellous transformations—the +chemist has a table of substances, +and a table of proportions—names +and figures both—<i>why</i> these +transmutations take place, is a question +you should be ashamed to ask. +Plants spring up from the earth, and +<i>grow</i>, and blossom at your feet, and +you look on with delight, and an unsubduable +wonder, and in a heedless +moment you ask what is <i>life?</i> Science +will generalize the fact to you—give +you its formula for the expression of +<i>growth, decomposition, and recomposition</i>, +under circumstances not as yet +very accurately collected. Still you +stand gazing at the plant which a short +while since stole through a crevice of +the earth, and taking to itself, with +such subtle power of choice, from the +soil or the air, the matter that it needed, +fashioned it to the green leaf and +the hanging blossom. In vain! Your +scientific monitor calls you from futile +reveries, and repeats his formula of +decomposition and recomposition. As +<i>attraction</i> in the planet is known only +as a movement admitting of a stated +numerical expression, so <i>life</i> in the +plant is to be known only as decomposition +and recomposition taking +place under certain circumstances. +Think of it as such—no more. But, +O learned philosopher! you exclaim, +you shall tell me that you know not +what manner of thing life is, and I +will believe you; and if you add that +I shall never discover it, I will believe +you; but you cannot prevent me +from knowing that it is something I +do not know. Permit me, for I cannot +help it, still to wonder what life +is. Upon the dial of a watch the +hands are moving, and a child asks +why? Child! I respond, that the +hands <i>do</i> move is an ultimate fact—so, +represent it to yourself—and here, +moreover, is the law of their movement—the +longer index revolves twelve +times while the shorter revolves once. +This is knowledge, and will be of use +to you—more you cannot understand. +And the child is silent, but still it +keeps its eye upon the dial, and knows +there is something that it does not +know.</p> + +<p>But while you are looking, in spite +of your scientific monitor, at this +beautiful creature that grows fixed +and rooted in the earth—what is this +that glides forth from beneath its +leaves, with self-determined motion, +not to be expressed by a numerical +law, pausing, progressing, seeking, +this way and that, its pasture?—what +have we here? <i>Irritability and a tissue.</i> +Lo! it shrinks back as the heel of the +philosopher has touched it, coiling and +writhing itself—what is this? <i>Sensation +and a nerve.</i> Does the nerve <i>feel</i>? +you inconsiderately ask, or is there +some sentient being, other than the +nerve, in which sensation resides? A +smile of derision plays on the lip of the +philosopher. <i>There is sensation</i>—you +cannot express the fact in simpler or +more general terms. Turn your enquiries, +or your microscope, on the +organization with which it is, in order +of time, connected. Ask not me, in +phrases without meaning, of the unintelligible +mysteries of ontology. And +you, O philosopher! who think and +reason thus, is not the thought within +thee, in every way, a most perplexing +matter? Not more perplexing, he replies, +than the pain of yonder worm, +which seems now to have subsided, +since it glides on with apparent pleasure +over the surface of the earth. +Does the organization of the man, or +something else within him, <i>think</i>?—does +the organization of that worm, or +something else within it, <i>feel</i>?—they +are virtually the same questions, and +equally idle. Phenomena are the sole +subjects of science. Like attraction +in the planet, like life in the vegetable, +like sensation in the animal, so thought +in man is an ultimate fact, which we +can merely recognize, and place in its +order in the universe. Come with me +to the dissecting-room, and examine +that cerebral apparatus with which it +is, or <i>was</i>, connected.</p> + +<p>All this "craves wary walking." +It is a trying course, this <i>method</i>, for +the uninitiated. How it strains the +mind by the very limitations it imposes +<a class="pagenum" name="page408" id="page408" title="page408"></a>on its outlook! How mysterious is this +very sharp, and well-defined separation +from all mystery! How giddy is +this path that leads always so close +over the unknowable! Giddy as that +bridge of steel, framed like a scimitar, +and as fine, which the faithful Moslem, +by the aid of his Prophet, will +pass with triumph on his way to Paradise. +But of our bridge, it cannot be +said that it has one foot on earth and +one in heaven. Apparently, it has no +foundation whatever; it rises from +cloud, it is lost in cloud, and it spans +an inpenetrable abyss. A mist, which +no wind disperses, involves both extremities +of our intellectual career, +and we are seen to pass like shadows +across the fantastic, inexplicable interval.</p> + +<p>We now open the fourth volume, +which is emblazoned with the title of +<i>Physique Social</i>. And here we will +at once extract a passage, which, if +our own remarks have been hitherto +of an unattractive character, shall reward +the reader for his patience. It +is taken from that portion of the work—perhaps +the most lucid and powerful +of the whole—where, in order to +demonstrate the necessity of his new +science of Sociology, M. Comte enters +into a review of the two great political +parties which, with more or less +distinctness, divide every nation of +Europe; his intention being to show +that both of them are equally incompetent +to the task of organizing society. +We shall render our quotation as brief +as the purpose of exposition will allow:—</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"It is impossible to deny that the political +world is intellectually in a deplorable +condition. All our ideas of <i>order</i> are +hitherto solely borrowed from the ancient +system of religious and military power, +regarded especially in its constitution, +catholic and feudal; a doctrine which, +from the philosophic point of view of this +treatise, represents incontestably the <i>theologic</i> +state of the social science. All our +ideas of <i>progress</i> continue to be +exclusively deduced from a philosophy purely +negative, which, issuing from Protestantism, +has taken in the last age its final form +and complete development; the doctrines +of which constitute, in reality, the <i>metaphysic</i> +state of politics. Different classes +of society adopt the one or the other of +these, just as they are disposed to feel +chiefly the want of conservation or that of +amelioration. Rarely, it is true, do these +antagonist doctrines present themselves in +all their plenitude, and with their primitive +homogeneity; they are found less and +less in this form, except in minds purely +speculative. But the monstrous medley +which men attempt in our days of their +incompatible principles, cannot evidently +be endowed with any virtue foreign to the +elements which compose it, and tends +only, in fact, to their mutual neutralization.</p> + +<p>"However pernicious may be at present +the theologic doctrine, no true philosophy +can forget that the formation and +first development of modern societies were +accomplished under its benevolent tutelage; +which I hope sufficiently to demonstrate +in the historical portion of this +work. But it is not the less incontestably +true that, for about three centuries, its +influence has been, amongst the nations +most advanced, essentially retrograde, notwithstanding +the partial services it has +throughout that period rendered. It +would be superfluous to enter here into a +special discussion of this doctrine, in order +to show its extreme insufficiency at the +present day. The deplorable absence of +all sound views of social organization can +alone account for the absurd project of +giving, in these times, for the support of +social order, a political system which has +already been found unable to sustain itself +before the spontaneous progress of intelligence +and of society. The historical analysis +which we shall subsequently institute +of the successive changes which have gradually +brought about the entire dissolution +of the catholic and feudal system, will +demonstrate, better than any direct argument, +its radical and irrevocable decay. +The theologic school has generally no other +method of explaining this decomposition +of the old system than by causes merely +accidental or personal, out of all reasonable +proportion with the magnitude of the +results; or else, when hard driven, it has +recourse to its ordinary artifice, and attempts +to explain all by an appeal to the +will of Providence, to whom is ascribed +the intention of raising a time of trial for +the social order, of which the commencement, +the duration, and the character, are +all left equally obscure."...—P.14</p> + +<p>"In a point of view strictly logical, the +social problem might be stated thus:—construct +a doctrine that shall be so +rationally conceived that it shall be found, +as it develops itself, to be still always consistent +with its own principles. Neither +of the existing doctrines satisfies this condition, +even by the rudest approximation. +Both display numerous and direct contradictions, +and on important points. By +this alone their utter insufficiency is clearly +exhibited. The doctrine which shall fulfil +this condition, will, from this test, be recognized +as the one capable of reorganizing +<a class="pagenum" name="page409" id="page409" title="page409"></a>society; for it is an <i>intellectual reorganization</i> +that is first wanted—a re-establishment +of a real and durable harmony +amongst our social ideas, disturbed and +shaken to the very foundation. Should +this regeneration be accomplished in one +intelligence only, (and such must necessarily +be its manner of commencement,) +its extension would be certain; for the +number of intelligences to be convinced +can have no influence except as a question +of time. I shall not fail to point out, +when the proper opportunity arrives, the +eminent superiority, in this respect, of the +positive philosophy, which, once extended +to social phenomena, will necessarily combine +the ideas of men in a strict and +complete manner, which in no other way can +be attained."—P. 20.</p></div> + +<p>M. Comte then mentions some of +the inconsistencies of the theologic +school.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"Analyze, for example, the vain attempts, +so frequently renewed during two +centuries by so many distinguished minds, +to subordinate, according to the theologic +formula, reason to faith; it is easy to +recognize the radical contradiction this +attempt involves, which establishes reason +herself as supreme judge of this very +submission, the extent and the permanence +of which is to depend upon her variable +and not very rigid decisions. The most +eminent thinker of the present catholic +school, the illustrious <i>De Maistre</i>, +himself affords a proof, as convincing as +involuntary, of this inevitable contradiction +in his philosophy, when, renouncing +all theologic weapons, he labours in his +principal work to re-establish the Papal +supremacy on purely historical and political +reasonings, instead of limiting himself +to command it by right divine—the +only mode in true harmony with such +a doctrine, and which a mind, at another +epoch, would not certainly have hesitated +to adopt."—P. 25.</p></div> + +<p>After some further observations on +the theologic or retrograde school, he +turns to the <i>metaphysic</i>, sometimes +called the anarchical, sometimes <i>doctrine +critique</i>, for M. Comte is rich in +names.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"In submitting, in their turn, the <i>metaphysic</i> +doctrine to a like appreciation, it +must never be overlooked that, though +exclusively critical, and therefore purely +revolutionary, it has not the less merited, +for a long time, the title of progressive, +as having in fact presided over the principal +political improvements accomplished +in the course of the three last centuries, +and which have necessarily been of a +<i>negative</i> description. If, when conceived +in an absolute sense, its dogmas manifest, +in fact, a character directly anarchical, +when viewed in an historical position, and +in their antagonism to the ancient system, +they constitute a provisional state, necessary +to the introduction of a new political +organization.</p> + +<p>"By a necessity as evident as it is +deplorable, a necessity inherent in our +feeble nature, the transition from one +social system to another can never be +direct and continuous; it supposes always, +during some generations at least, a sort of +interregnum, more or less anarchical, +whose character and duration depend on +the importance and extent of the renovation +to be effected. (While the old system +remains standing, though undermined, the +public reason cannot become familiarized +with a class of ideas entirely opposed to it.) +In this necessity we see the legitimate +source of the present <i>doctrine critique</i>—a +source which at once explains the indispensable +services it has hitherto rendered, +and also the essential obstacles it now +opposes to the final reorganization of +modern societies....</p> + +<p>"Under whatever aspect we regard it, +the general spirit of the metaphysic revolutionary +system consists in erecting into +a normal and permanent state a necessarily +exceptional and transitory condition. By +a direct and total subversion of political +notions, the most fundamental, it represents +government as being, by its nature, the +necessary enemy of society, against which +it sedulously places itself in a constant +state of suspicion and watchfulness; it is +disposed incessantly to restrain more and +more its sphere of activity, in order to +prevent its encroachments, and tends +finally to leave it no other than the simple +functions of general police, without any +essential participation in the supreme direction +of the action of the collective +body or of its social development.</p> + +<p>"Approaching to a more detailed examination +of this doctrine, it is evident that +the absolute right of free examination +(which, connected as it is with the liberty +of the press and the freedom of education, +is manifestly its principal and fundamental +dogma) is nothing else, in reality, but the +consecration, under the vicious abstract +form common to all metaphysic conceptions, +of that transitional state of unlimited +liberty in which the human mind has been +spontaneously placed, in consequence of +the irrevocable decay of the theologic +philosophy, and which must naturally remain +till the establishment in the social domain +of the positive method.<a name="footnotetag49" id="footnotetag49"></a><a href="#footnote49"><sup>49</sup></a> ... However +salutary and indispensable in its historical +<a class="pagenum" name="page410" id="page410" title="page410"></a>position, this principle opposes a grave +obstacle to the reorganization of society, +by being erected into an absolute and permanent +dogma. To examine always without +deciding ever, would be deemed great +folly in any individual. How can the dogmatic +consecration of a like disposition +amongst all individuals, constitute the definitive +perfection of the social order, in +regard, too, to ideas whose finity it is so +peculiarly important, and so difficult, to +establish? Is it not evident, on the contrary, +that such a disposition is, from its +nature, radically anarchical, inasmuch as, +if it could be indefinitely prolonged, it +must hinder every true mental organization?</p> + +<p>"No association whatever, though destined +for a special and temporary purpose, +and though limited to a small number +of individuals, can subsist without a +certain degree of reciprocal confidence, +both intellectual and moral, between its +members, each one of whom finds a continual +necessity for a crowd of notions, to +the formation of which he must remain a +stranger, and which he cannot admit but +on the faith of others. By what monstrous +exception can this elementary condition +of all society be banished from that +total association of mankind, where the +point of view which the individual takes, +is most widely separated from that point +of view which the collective interest requires, +and where each member is the least +capable, whether by nature or position, to +form a just appreciation of these general +rules, indispensable to the good direction +of his personal activity. Whatever intellectual +development we may suppose possible, +in the mass of men it is evident, +that social order will remain always necessarily +incompatible with the permanent +liberty left to each, to throw back every +day into endless discussion the first principles +even of society....</p> + +<p>"The dogma of <i>equality</i> is the most +essential and the most influential after +that which I have just examined, and is, +besides, in necessary relation to the principle +of the unrestricted liberty of judgment; +for this last indirectly leads to the +conclusion of an equality of the most fundamental +character—an equality of intelligence. +In its bearing on the ancient +system, it has happily promoted the development +of modern civilization, by presiding +over the final dissolution of the old +social classification. But this function +constitutes the sole progressive destination +of this energetic dogma, which tends in its +turn to prevent every just reorganization, +since its destructive activity is blindly directed +against the basis of every new +classification. For, whatever that basis +may be, it cannot be reconciled with a +pretended equality, which, to all intelligent +men, can now only signify the triumph +of the inequalities developed by +modern civilization, over those which had +predominated in the infancy of society....</p> + +<p>"The same philosophical appreciation +is applicable with equal ease to the dogma +of the <i>sovereignty of the people</i>. Whilst +estimating, as is fit, the indispensable +transitional office of this revolutionary +dogma, no true philosopher can now misunderstand +the fatal anarchical tendency +of this metaphysical conception, since in +its absolute application it opposes itself to +all regular institution, condemning indefinitely +all superiors to an arbitrary dependence +on the multitude of their inferiors, +by a sort of transference to the people of +the much-reprobated right of kings."</p></div> + +<p>As our author had shown how the +<i>theologic</i> philosophy was inconsistent +often with itself, so, in criticising the +<i>metaphysics</i>, he exposes here also +certain self-contradictions. He reproaches +it with having, in its contests +with the old system, endeavoured, +at each stage, to uphold and adopt +some of the elementary principles of +that very system it was engaged in +destroying.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"Thus," he says, "there arose a Christianity +more and more simplified, and reduced +at length to a vague and powerless +theism, which, by a strange medley of +terms, the metaphysicians distinguished by +the title of <i>natural religion</i>, as if all religion +was not inevitably <i>supernatural</i>. +In pretending to direct the social reorganization +after this vain conception, the +metaphysic school, notwithstanding its +destination purely revolutionary, has always +implicitly adhered, and does so, especially +and distinctly, at the present day, to +the most fundamental principle of the ancient +political doctrine—that which represents +the social order as necessarily reposing +on a theological basis. This is now +the most evident, and the most pernicious +inconsistency of the metaphysic doctrine. +Armed with this concession, the school of +Bossuet and De Maistre will always maintain +an incontestable logical superiority over +<a class="pagenum" name="page411" id="page411" title="page411"></a>the irrational detractors of Catholicism, +who, while they proclaim the want of a +religious organization, reject, nevertheless, +the elements indispensable to its realization. +By such a concession the revolutionary +school concur in effect, at the present +day, with the retrograde, in preventing +a right organization of modern societies, +whose intellectual condition more and +more interdicts a system of politics founded +on theology."</p></div> + +<p>Our readers will doubtless agree +with us, that this review of political +parties (though seen through an extract +which we have been compelled +to abbreviate in a manner hardly permissible +in quoting from an author) +displays a singular originality and +power of thought; although each one +of them will certainly have his own +class of objections and exceptions to +make. We said that the impression +created by the work was decidedly +<i>conservative</i>, and this quotation has +already borne us out. For without +implying that we could conscientiously +make use of every argument here put +into our hands, we may be allowed to +say, as the lawyers do in Westminster +Hail, <i>if this be so</i>, then it follows that +we of the retrograde, or as we may +fairly style ourselves in England—seeing +this country has not progressed +so rapidly as France—we of the stationary +party are fully justified in +maintaining our position, unsatisfactory +though it may be, till some better +and more definite system has been +revealed to us, than any which has +yet made its advent in the political +world. If the revolutionary, metaphysic, +or liberal school have no proper +office but that of destruction—if +its nature be essentially transitional—can +we be called upon to forego this +position, to quit our present anchorage, +until we know whereto we are to +be transferred? Shall we relinquish +the traditions of our monarchy, and +the discipline of our church, before +we hear what we are to receive in exchange? +M. Comte would not advise +so irrational a proceeding.</p> + +<p>But M. Comte has himself a <i>constructive</i> +doctrine; M. Comte will +give us in exchange—what? The +Scientific Method!</p> + +<p>We have just seen something of +this scientific method. M. Comte +himself is well aware that it is a style +of thought by no means adapted to the +multitude. Therefore there will arise +with the scientific method an altogether +new class, an intellectual aristocracy, +(not the present race of <i>savans</i> +or their successors, whom he is +particularly anxious to exclude from +all such advancement,) who will expound +to the people the truths to +which that method shall give birth. +This class will take under its control +all that relates to education. It will +be the seat of the moral power, not of +the administrative. This, together +with some arguments to establish +what few are disposed to question, the +fundamental character of the laws of +property and of marriage, is all that +we are here presented with towards +the definite re-organization of society.</p> + +<p>We shall not go back to the question, +already touched upon, and which +lies at the basis of all this—how far it +is possible to construct a science of +Sociology. There is only one way in +which the question can be resolved in +the affirmative—namely, by constructing +the science.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile we may observe, that +the general consent of a cultivated +order of minds to a certain class of +truths, is not sufficient for the purposes +of government. We take, says +M. Comte, our chemistry from the +chemist, our astronomy from the astronomer; +if these were fixed principles, +we should take our politics +with the same ease from the graduated +politician. But it is worth while to +consider what it is we do when we +take our chemistry from the chemist, +and our astronomy from the astronomer. +We assume, on the authority +of our teacher, certain facts which it +is not in our power to verify; but his +reasonings upon these facts we must +be able to comprehend. We follow +him as he explains the facts by which +knowledge has been obtained, and +yield to his statement a rational conviction. +Unless we do this, we cannot +be said to have any knowledge +whatever of the subject—any chemistry +or astronomy at all. Now, presuming +there were a science of politics, +as fixed and perfect as that of +astronomy, the people must, at all +events, be capable of understanding +its exposition, or they could not possibly +be governed by it. We need +hardly say that those ideas, feelings, +and sentiments, which can be made +general, are those only on which government +can rest.</p> + +<p>In the course of the preceding extract, +our author exposes the futility +<a class="pagenum" name="page412" id="page412" title="page412"></a>of that attempt which certain churchmen +are making, as well on this side +of the Channel as the other, to reason +men back into a submission of their +reason. Yet, if the science of Sociology +should be above the apprehension +of the vulgar, (as M. Comte seems +occasionally to presume it would be,) +he would impose on his intellectual +priesthood a task of the very same +kind, and even still more hopeless. +A multitude once taught to argue and +decide on politics, must be reasoned +back into a submission of their reason +to political teachers—teachers who +have no sacred writings, and no traditions +from which to argue a delegated +authority, but whose authority +must be founded on the very reasonableness +of the entire system of their +doctrine. But this is a difficulty we +are certainly premature in discussing, +as the true Catholic church in politics +has still itself to be formed.</p> + +<p>We are afraid, notwithstanding all +his protestations, M. Comte will be +simply classed amongst the <i>Destructives</i>, +so little applicable to the generality +of minds is that mode of thought, +to establish which (and it is for this +we blame him) he calls, and so prematurely, +for so great sacrifices.</p> + +<p>The fifth volume—the most remarkable, +we think, of the whole—contains +that historical survey which has been +more than once alluded to in the foregoing +extracts. This volume alone +would make the fortune of any expert +Parisian scribe who knew how to select +from its rich store of original materials, +who had skill to arrange and expound, +and, above all, had the dexterity to +adopt somewhat more ingeniously than +M. Comte has done, his abstract statements +to our reminiscences of historical +facts. Full of his own generalities, +he is apt to forget the concrete matter +of the annalist. Indeed, it is a +peculiarity running through the volume, +that generalizations, in themselves +of a valuable character, are +shown to disadvantage by an unskilful +alliance with history.</p> + +<p>We will make one quotation from +this portion of the work, and then we +must leave M. Comte. In reviewing +the theological progress of mankind, +he signalizes three epochs, that of +Fetishism, of Polytheism, and of +Monotheism. Our extract shall relate +to the first of these, to that primitive +state of religion, or idolatry, in which +<i>things themselves</i> were worshipped; +the human being transferring to them +immediately a life, or power, somewhat +analogous to its own.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"Exclusively habituated, for so long a +time, to a theology eminently metaphysic, +we must feel at present greatly embarrassed +in our attempt to comprehend this +gross primitive mode of thought. It is +thus that fetishism has often been confounded +with polytheism, when to the +latter has been applied the common expression +of idolatry, which strictly relates +to the former only; since the priests of +Jupiter or Minerva would, no doubt, have +as justly repelled the vulgar reproach of +worshipping images, as do the Catholic +doctors of the present day a like unjust +accusation of the Protestants. But though +we are happily sufficiently remote from +fetishism to find a difficulty in conceiving +it, yet each one of us has but to retrace +his own mental history, to detect the +essential characters of this initial state. +Nay, even eminent thinkers of the present +day, when they allow themselves to be +involuntarily ensnared (under the influence, +but partially rectified, of a vicious +education) to attempt to penetrate the +mystery of the essential production of any +phenomenon whose laws are not familiar +to them, they are in a condition personally +to exemplify this invariable instinctive +tendency to trace the generation of unknown +effects to a cause analogous to life, +which is no other, strictly speaking, than +the principle of fetishism....</p> + +<p>"Theologic philosophy, thoroughly investigated, +has always necessarily for its +base pure fetishism, which deifies instantly +each body and each phenomenon capable +of exciting the feeble thought of infant +humanity. Whatever essential transformations +this primitive philosophy may afterwards +undergo, a judicious sociological +analysis will always expose to view this +primordial base, never entirely concealed, +even in a religious state the most remote +from the original point of departure. Not +only, for example, the Egyptian theocracy +has presented, at the time of its greatest +splendour, the established and prolonged +coexistence, in the several castes of the +hierarchy, of one of these religious epochs, +since the inferior ranks still remained in +simple fetishism, whilst the higher orders +were in possession of a very remarkable +polytheism, and the most exalted of its +members had probably raised themselves +to some form of monotheism; but we can +at all times, by a strict scrutiny, detect in +the theologic spirit traces of this original +fetishism. It has even assumed, amongst +subtle intelligences, the most metaphysical +forms. What, in reality, is that celebrated +conception of a soul of the world amongst +the ancients, or that analogy, more modern, +drawn between the earth and an +<a class="pagenum" name="page413" id="page413" title="page413"></a>immense living animal, and other similar +fancies, but pure fetishism disguised in the +pomp of philosophical language? And, in +our own days even, what is this cloudy +pantheism which so many metaphysicians, +especially in Germany, make great boast +of, but generalized and systematized fetishism +enveloped in a learned garb fit to amaze +the vulgar."—Vol. V. p. 38.</p></div> + +<p>He then remarks on the perfect +adaptation of this primitive theology +to the initial torpor of the human +understanding, which it spares even +the labour of creating and sustaining +the facile fictions of polytheism. The +mind yields passively to that natural +tendency which leads us to transfer to +objects without us, that sentiment of +existence which we feel within, and +which, appearing at first sufficiently to +explain our own personal phenomena, +serves directly as an uniform base, an +absolute unquestioned interpretation, +of all external phenomena. He dwells +with quite a touching satisfaction on +this child-like and contented condition +of the rude intellect.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"All observable bodies," he says +"being thus immediately personified and +endowed with passions suited to the energy +of the observed phenomena, the external +world presents itself spontaneously to the +spectator in a perfect harmony, such as +never again has been produced, and which +must have excited in him a peculiar sentiment +of plenary satisfaction, hardly by us +in the present day to be characterized, +even when we refer back with a meditation +the most intense on this cradle of +humanity."</p></div> + +<p>Do not even these few fragments +bear out our remarks, both of praise +and censure? We see here traces of +a deep penetration into the nature of +man, coupled with a singular negligence +of the historical picture. The +principle here laid down as that of +fetishism, is important in many respects; +it is strikingly developed, and +admits of wide application; but (presuming +we are at liberty to seek in +the rudest periods for the origin of +religion) we do not find any such +systematic procedure amongst rude +thinkers—we do not find any condition +of mankind which displays that +complete ascendancy of the principle +here described. Our author would +lead us to suppose, that the deification +of objects was uniformly a species of +explanation of natural phenomena. +The accounts we have of fetishism, +as observed in barbarous countries, +prove to us that this animation of +stocks and stones has frequently no +connexion whatever with a desire to +explain <i>their</i> phenomena, but has resulted +from a fancied relation between +those objects and the human being. +The <i>charm</i> or the <i>amulet</i>—some object +whose presence has been observed to +cure diseases, or bring good-luck—grows +up into a god; a strong desire +at once leading the man to pray to his +amulet, and also to attribute to it the +power of granting his prayer.<a name="footnotetag50" id="footnotetag50"></a><a href="#footnote50"><sup>50</sup></a></p> + +<p>We carry on our quotation one step +further, for the sake of illustrating the +impracticable <i>unmanageable</i> nature of +our author's generalizations when historically +applied. Having advanced +to this stage in the development of +theologic thought, he finds it extremely +difficult to extricate the human mind +from that state in which he has, with +such scientific precision, fixed it.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"Speculatively regarded, this great +transformation of the religious spirit +<a class="pagenum" name="page414" id="page414" title="page414"></a>(from fetishism to polytheism) is perhaps +the most fundamental that it has ever undergone, +though we are at present so far +separated from it as not to perceive its +extent and difficulty. The human mind, +it seems to me, passed over a less interval +in its transit from polytheism to monotheism, +the more recent and better understood +accomplishment of which has naturally +taught us to exaggerate its importance—an +importance extremely great only in +a certain social point of view, which I +shall explain in its place. When we reflect +that fetishism supposes matter to be +eminently active, to the point of being +truly alive, while polytheism necessarily +compels it to an inertia almost absolute, +submitted passively to the arbitrary will +of the divine agent; it would seem at first +impossible to comprehend the real mode +of transition from one religious <i>régime</i> +to the other."—P. 97.</p></div> + +<p>The transition, it seems, was effected +by an early effort of generalization; +for as men recognized the similitude +of certain objects, and classified them +into one species, so they approximated +the corresponding Fetishes, and reduced +them at length to a principal +Fetish, presiding over this class of phenomena, +who thus, liberated from +matter, and having of necessity an independent +being of its own, became a god.</p> + +<div class="blkquot"><p>"For the gods differ essentially from +pure fetishes, by a character more general +and more abstract, pertaining to their +indeterminate residence. They, each of +them, administer a special order of phenomena, +and have a department more or +less extensive; while the humble fetish +governs one object only, from which it is +inseparable. Now, in proportion as the +resemblance of certain phenomena was +observed, it was necessary to classify the +corresponding fetishes, and to reduce +them to a chief, who, from this time, was +elevated to the rank of a god—that is to +say, an ideal agent, habitually invisible, +whose residence is not rigorously fixed. +There could not exist, properly speaking, +a fetish common to several bodies; this +would be a contradiction, every fetish +being necessarily endowed with a material +individuality. When, for example, +the similar vegetation of the several trees +in a forest of oaks, led men to represent, +in their theological conceptions, what was +<i>common</i> in these objects, this abstract being +could no longer be the fetish of a tree, but +became the god of the forest."—P. 101.</p></div> + +<p>This apparatus of transition is ingenious +enough, but surely it is utterly +uncalled for. The same uncultured +imagination that could animate a tree, +could people the air with gods. Whenever +the cause of any natural event is +<i>invisible</i>, the imagination cannot rest +in Fetishism; it must create some +being to produce it. If thunder is to +be theologically explained—and there +is no event in nature more likely to +suggest such explanation—the imagination +cannot animate the thunder; +it must create some being that thunders. +No one, the discipline of whose +mind had not been solely and purely +<i>scientific</i>, would have created for itself +this difficulty, or solved it in such +a manner.<a name="footnotetag51" id="footnotetag51"></a><a href="#footnote51"><sup>51</sup></a></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<a name="bw329-footnotes" id="bw329-footnotes"></a><h2>FOOTNOTES.</h2> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"></a> <b>Footnote 1</b>: <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> +<p>There is, strictly speaking, no middle class in Russia; the "bourgeoisie," or +merchants, it is true, may seem to form an exception to this remark, but into their +circles the traveller would find it, from many reasons, difficult, and even impossible, to +enter.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"></a> <b>Footnote 2</b>: <a href="#footnotetag2">(return)</a> +<p>In making so grave a charge, proof will naturally be required of us. Though we +might fill many pages with instances of the two great sins of the translator, commission +and omission, the <i>poco piu</i> and <i>poco meno</i>, we will content ourselves with taking, <i>ad +aperturam libri</i>, an example. At page 55 of the Second Part of Bowring's Russian +Anthology, will be found a short lyric piece of Dmítrieff, entitled "To Chloe." It +consists of five stanzas, each of four very short lines. Of these five stanzas, three have +a totally different meaning in the English from their signification in the Russian, and of +the remaining two, one contains an idea which the reader will look for in vain in the +original. This carelessness is the less excusable, as the verses in question present nothing +in style, subject, or diction, which could offer the smallest difficulty to a translator. +Judging this to be no unfair test, (the piece in question was taken at random,) +it will not be necessary to dilate upon minor defects, painfully perceptible through +Bowring's versions; as, for instance, a frequent disregard of the Russian metres—sins +against <i>costume</i>, as, for example, the making a hussar (a <i>Russian</i> hussar) swear +by his <i>beard</i>, &c. &c. &c.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote3" name="footnote3"></a> <b>Footnote 3</b>: <a href="#footnotetag3">(return)</a> +<p>Cyril was the ecclesiastical or claustral name of this important personage, his real +name was Constantine.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote4" name="footnote4"></a> <b>Footnote 4</b>: <a href="#footnotetag4">(return)</a> +<p>For instance, the <i>j</i>, (pronounced as the French <i>j</i>), <i>ts, sh, shtsh, tch, ui, yä</i>. As +the characters representing these sounds are not to be found in the "case" of an +English compositor, we cannot enter into their Oriental origin.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote5" name="footnote5"></a> <b>Footnote 5</b>: <a href="#footnotetag5">(return)</a> +<p>Not to speak of the capitals, the γ, δ, ζ, κ, λ, μ, ο, π, ρ, ς, φ, χ, θ, have undergone +hardly the most trifling change in form; ψ, ξ, ω, though they do not occur in the Russian, +are found in the Slavonic alphabet. The Russian pronunciation of their letter B, which +agrees with that of the modern Greeks, is V, there being another character for the +<i>sound</i> B.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote6" name="footnote6"></a> <b>Footnote 6</b>: <a href="#footnotetag6">(return)</a> +<p>The crown was not worn by the ancient Russian sovereigns, or "Grand Princes," +as they were called; the insignia of these potentates was a close skull-cap, called in +Russian shápka, bonnet; many of which are preserved in the regalia of Moscow. +This bonnet is generally surrounded by the most precious furs, and gorgeously decorated +with gems.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote7" name="footnote7"></a> <b>Footnote 7</b>: <a href="#footnotetag7">(return)</a> +<p>For instance, sermons, descriptions, voyages and travels, &c. Two of the last-mentioned +species of works are very curious from their antiquity. The Pilgrimage to +Jerusalem of Daniel, prior of a convent, at the commencement of the 12th century; +and the Memoirs of a Journey to India by Athanase Nikítin, merchant of Tver, made +about 1470.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote8" name="footnote8"></a> <b>Footnote 8</b>: <a href="#footnotetag8">(return)</a> +<p>The only traces left on the <i>language</i> by the Tartar domination are a few words, +chiefly expressing articles of dress.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote9" name="footnote9"></a> <b>Footnote 9</b>: <a href="#footnotetag9">(return)</a> +<p>The non-Russian reader must be cautioned not to confuse Iván III. (surnamed +Velíkiy, or the Great) with Ivan IV., the Cruel, the latter of whom is to foreigners +the most prominent figure in the Russian history. Iván III. mounted the throne in +1462, and his terrible namesake in 1534; the reign of Vassíliy Ivánovitch intervening +between these two memorable epochs.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote10" name="footnote10"></a> <b>Footnote 10</b>: <a href="#footnotetag10">(return)</a> +<p>The translator recently met in society a Russian officer, who had served with +distinction in the country which forms the scene of "Ammalát Bek." This gentleman +had intimately known Marlínski, and bore witness to the perfect accuracy of his +delineations, as well of the external features of nature as of the characters of his +<i>dramatis personæ</i>. The officer alluded to had served some time in the very regiment +commanded by the unfortunate Verkhóffsky. Our fair readers may be interested to +learn, that Seltanetta still lives, and yet bears traces of her former beauty. She married +the Shamkhál, and now resides in feudal magnificence at Tarki, where she exercises +great sway, which she employs in favour of the Russian interest, to which she +is devoted.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote11" name="footnote11"></a> <b>Footnote 11</b>: <a href="#footnotetag11">(return)</a> +<p>Djoumá answers to our Sabbath. The days of the Mahomedan week are as follows: +Shambi, Saturday; Ikhshambá, Sunday; Doushambá, Monday; Seshambá, +Tuesday; Tchershambá, Wednesday; Pkhanshambá, Thursday; Djoumá, Friday.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote12" name="footnote12"></a> <b>Footnote 12</b>: <a href="#footnotetag12">(return)</a> +<p>Sákla, a Circassian hut.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote13" name="footnote13"></a> <b>Footnote 13</b>: <a href="#footnotetag13">(return)</a> +<p>A species of garment, resembling a frock-coat with an upright collar, reaching to +the knees, fixed in front by hooks and eyes, worn by both sexes.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote14" name="footnote14"></a> <b>Footnote 14</b>: <a href="#footnotetag14">(return)</a> +<p>The trowsers of the <i>women</i>: those worn by the men, though alike in form, are +called shalwárs. It is an offence to tell a man that he wears the toumán; being equivalent +to a charge of effeminacy; and <i>vice versâ</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote15" name="footnote15"></a> <b>Footnote 15</b>: <a href="#footnotetag15">(return)</a> +<p>It is the ordinary manner of the Asiatics to sit in this manner in public, or in the +presence of a superior.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote16" name="footnote16"></a> <b>Footnote 16</b>: <a href="#footnotetag16">(return)</a> +<p>A kind of rude cart with two wheels.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote17" name="footnote17"></a> <b>Footnote 17</b>: <a href="#footnotetag17">(return)</a> +<p>The first Shamkháls were the kinsmen and representatives of the Khalifs of Damascus: +the last Shamkhál died on his return from Russia, and with him finished this +useless rank. His son, Suleiman Pacha, possessed his property as a private individual.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote18" name="footnote18"></a> <b>Footnote 18</b>: <a href="#footnotetag18">(return)</a> +<p>The attendants of a Tartar noble, equivalent to the "henchman" of the ancient +Highlanders. The noúker waits behind his lord at table, cuts up and presents the +food.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote19" name="footnote19"></a> <b>Footnote 19</b>: <a href="#footnotetag19">(return)</a> +<p>3500 English feet—three quarters of a mile.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote20" name="footnote20"></a> <b>Footnote 20</b>: <a href="#footnotetag20">(return)</a> +<p>Foster-brother; from the word "emdjek"—suckling. Among the tribes of the +Caucasus, this relationship is held more sacred than that of nature. Every man would +willingly die for his emdjek.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote21" name="footnote21"></a> <b>Footnote 21</b>: <a href="#footnotetag21">(return)</a> +<p>This is a celebrated race of Persian horses, called Teke.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote22" name="footnote22"></a> <b>Footnote 22</b>: <a href="#footnotetag22">(return)</a> +<p>The being obliged to transport provisions.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote23" name="footnote23"></a> <b>Footnote 23</b>: <a href="#footnotetag23">(return)</a> +<p>The chief of a village.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote24" name="footnote24"></a> <b>Footnote 24</b>: <a href="#footnotetag24">(return)</a> +<p>The subordinates of the atarost.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote25" name="footnote25"></a> <b>Footnote 25</b>: <a href="#footnotetag25">(return)</a> +<p>Go to the devil.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote26" name="footnote26"></a> <b>Footnote 26</b>: <a href="#footnotetag26">(return)</a> +<p>The Asiatics mark their horses by burning them on their haunch with a hot iron. +This peculiar mark, the <span lang="EL" title="stigma">στιγμα</span> or <span lang="EL" title="kotpa">κοτπα</span> of the Greeks is called "távro."</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote27" name="footnote27"></a> <b>Footnote 27</b>: <a href="#footnotetag27">(return)</a> +<p>The brother of Hassan Khan Djemontái, who became Khan of Avár by marrying +the Khan's widow and heiress.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote28" name="footnote28"></a> <b>Footnote 28</b>: <a href="#footnotetag28">(return)</a> +<p>The Russian detachment, consisting on this occasion of 3000 men, was surrounded +by 60,000. These were, Ouizmi Karakaidákhsky, the Aváretzes, Akoushínetzes, +the Boulinétzes of the Koi-Soú, and others. The Russians fought their way +out by night, but with considerable loss.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote29" name="footnote29"></a> <b>Footnote 29</b>: <a href="#footnotetag29">(return)</a> +<p>The whip of a Kazak.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote30" name="footnote30"></a> <b>Footnote 30</b>: <a href="#footnotetag30">(return)</a> +<p>A superintendent.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote31" name="footnote31"></a> <b>Footnote 31</b>: <a href="#footnotetag31">(return)</a> +<p>The house, in Tartar, is "ev;" "outakh," mansion; and "sarái," edifice in +general; "haram-khanéh," the women's apartments. For palace they employ the +word "igarát." The Russians confound all these meanings in the word "sákla," +which, in the Circassian language, is house.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote32" name="footnote32"></a> <b>Footnote 32</b>: <a href="#footnotetag32">(return)</a> +<p>The father of Ammalát was the eldest of the family, and consequently the true +heir to the Shamkhalát. But the Russians, having conquered Daghestán, not trusting +to the good intentions of this chief, gave the power to the younger brother.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote33" name="footnote33"></a> <b>Footnote 33</b>: <a href="#footnotetag33">(return)</a> +<p>A <i>jeu-de-mots</i> which the Asiatics admire much; "kizil-gulliár" means simply +roses, but the Khan alludes to "kizíl," ducats.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote34" name="footnote34"></a> <b>Footnote 34</b>: <a href="#footnotetag34">(return)</a> +<p>The Tartars, like the North American Indians, always, if possible, shelter themselves +behind rocks and enclosures, &c., when engaged in battle.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote35" name="footnote35"></a> <b>Footnote 35</b>: <a href="#footnotetag35">(return)</a> +<p>The commander-in-chief.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote36" name="footnote36"></a> <b>Footnote 36</b>: <a href="#footnotetag36">(return)</a> +<p>A kind of dried bread.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote37" name="footnote37"></a> <b>Footnote 37</b>: <a href="#footnotetag37">(return)</a> +<p>The mountaineers are bad Mussulmans, the Sooni sect is predominant; but the +Daghestánetzes are in general Shageeds, as the Persians. The sects hate each other +with all their heart.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote38" name="footnote38"></a> <b>Footnote 38</b>: <a href="#footnotetag38">(return)</a> +<p>The Circassian sabre.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote39" name="footnote39"></a> <b>Footnote 39</b>: <a href="#footnotetag39">(return)</a> +<p>A rough cloak, used as a protection in bad weather.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote40" name="footnote40"></a> <b>Footnote 40</b>: <a href="#footnotetag40">(return)</a> +<p>Friend, comrade.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote41" name="footnote41"></a> <b>Footnote 41</b>: <a href="#footnotetag41">(return)</a> +<p>Tchinár, the palmated-leaved plane.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote42" name="footnote42"></a> <b>Footnote 42</b>: <a href="#footnotetag42">(return)</a> +<p>Having no lead, the Aváretzes use balls of copper, as they possess small mines of +that metal.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote43" name="footnote43"></a> <b>Footnote 43</b>: <a href="#footnotetag43">(return)</a> +<p>The translation adheres to the original, in forsaking the rhyme in these lines and some others.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote44" name="footnote44"></a> <b>Footnote 44</b>: <a href="#footnotetag44">(return)</a> +<p>Written in the time of French war.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote45" name="footnote45"></a> <b>Footnote 45</b>: <a href="#footnotetag45">(return)</a> +<p>To the shore of the Seine.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote46" name="footnote46"></a> <b>Footnote 46</b>: <a href="#footnotetag46">(return)</a> +<p>John Bull, Part IV. ch. ii.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote47" name="footnote47"></a> <b>Footnote 47</b>: <a href="#footnotetag47">(return)</a> +<p>Tale of a Tub. Sect. xi.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote48" name="footnote48"></a> <b>Footnote 48</b>: <a href="#footnotetag48">(return)</a> +<p>In a wax-chandler's shop in Piccadilly, opposite St. James's Street, may be seen +stumps, or, as the Scotch call them, <i>doups</i> of wax-lights, with the announcement +"Candle-ends from Buckingham Palace." These are eagerly bought up by the gentility-mongers, +who burn, or it may be, in the excess of their loyalty, <i>eat</i> them!</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote49" name="footnote49"></a> <b>Footnote 49</b>: <a href="#footnotetag49">(return)</a> +<p>"There is," says M. Comte here in a note, which consists of an extract from a +previous work—"there is no liberty of conscience in astronomy, in physics, in chemistry, +even in physiology; every one would think it absurd not to give credit to the principles +established in these sciences by competent men. If it is otherwise in politics, it is +because the ancient principles having fallen; and new ones not being yet formed, there +are, properly speaking, in this interval no established principles."</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote50" name="footnote50"></a> <b>Footnote 50</b>: <a href="#footnotetag50">(return)</a> +<p>Take, for instance, the following description of fetishism in Africa. It is the +best which just now falls under our hand, and perhaps a longer search would not find +a better. Those only who never read <i>The Doctor</i>, will be surprised to find it quoted +on a grave occasion:— +</p><p> +"The name Fetish, though used by the negroes themselves, is known to be a corrupt +application of the Portuguese word for witchcraft, <i>feitiço</i>; the vernacular name +is <i>Bossum</i>, or <i>Bossifoe</i>. Upon the Gold Coast every nation has its own, every village, +every family, and every individual. A great hill, a rock any way remarkable +for its size or shape, or a large tree, is generally the national Fetish. The king's is +usually the largest tree in his country. They who choose or change one, take the first +thing they happen to see, however worthless—a stick, a stone, the bone of a beast, +bird, or fish, unless the worshipper takes a fancy for something of better appearance, +and chooses a horn, or the tooth of some large animal. The ceremony of consecration +he performs himself, assembling his family, washing the new object of his devotion, +and sprinkling them with the water. He has thus a household or personal god, +in which he has as much faith as the Papist in his relics, and with as much reason. +Barbot says that some of the Europeans on that coast not only encouraged their slaves +in this superstition, but believed in it, and practised it themselves."—Vol. V. p. 136.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote51" name="footnote51"></a> <b>Footnote 51</b>: <a href="#footnotetag51">(return)</a> +<p>At the end of the same chapter from which this extract is taken, the <i>Doctor</i> tells a +story which, if faith could be put in the numerous accounts which men relate of themselves, +(and such, we presume, was the original authority for the anecdote,) might +deserve a place in the history of superstition. +</p><p> +"One of the most distinguished men of the age, who has left a reputation which will be as lasting +as it is great, was, when a boy, in constant fear of a very able but unmerciful schoolmaster; +and in the state of mind which that constant fear produced, he fixed upon a great spider for his +fetish, and used every day to pray to it that he might not be flogged."</p> +</blockquote> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12761 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |