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diff --git a/75943-0.txt b/75943-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..684b427 --- /dev/null +++ b/75943-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11080 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75943 *** + + + + + + MELINCOURT + + +[Illustration: [Logo] + +[Illustration: _Sir Oran Haut-ton._] + + + + + MELINCOURT + OR + SIR ORAN HAUT-TON + + + BY + + THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK + + + ILLUSTRATED BY F. H. TOWNSEND + + WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY GEORGE SAINTSBURY + + + =London= + + MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD. + + NEW YORK: MACMILLAN & CO. + + 1896 + + _All rights reserved_ + + + + + INTRODUCTION + + +_Melincourt_ is usually considered the least interesting of Peacock’s +novels; and in the strictly comparative sense—that is to say that it is +the least interesting of a group, every one of which has peculiar and +exceptional interest—the statement is no doubt true. The defects of the +book are very obvious, and exceedingly easy to account for. _Headlong +Hall_ had been very popular; and it was only in the course of nature +that the author should repeat his successful experiment. But _Headlong +Hall_ had been by no means free from faults; and it certainly was not +out of the course of nature that they should reappear in the new +venture. In the very noteworthy introduction which the author wrote +nearly forty years later, and which contains the promise of _Gryll +Grange_ as supplement to complete the satire, it is not unimportant to +observe that he pays no attention to anything but the satirical purport. +A man of seventy, satiated with business and not specially hungering +after popularity, was not perhaps very likely to discuss his own novels +in detail, even to the extent to which Scott and other persons of +irreproachable taste have discussed theirs in separate or collected +editions. But it is not extravagant to take his silence as a kind of +indication of his point of view. + +His practice, however, if not his expressed theory, testifies to a +consciousness that he had made a mistake in the scale of this novel. +_Nightmare Abbey_, the next, is only just a third of its length: no two +of the next three, even if added together, come up to it; and though +_Gryll Grange_ is not so very much shorter, _Gryll Grange_ contains the +accumulated irony of a lifetime, and is not open to any of the +objections to which _Melincourt_ is exposed. + +These objections, put briefly, come to this, that the author has not yet +acquired the knack of telling a story, and that he has not discarded the +habit of inapposite dissertation. There is truth in this summary, sharp +and blunt at once as it is, and there is probably no reader who will not +sometimes put up a prayer for the excision, extinction, expulsion, and +general extermination of Mr. Fax. But political economy had always been +a favourite subject of Peacock’s French masters; it had acquired, +through Malthus (of whom Mr. Fax has sometimes been thought to be a +Peacockian portrait), considerable vogue in England; and we have seen it +reappear in our own time as a loading or padding to novels. Mr. +Forester’s anti-saccharine fervour was a real thing for many years after +_Melincourt_ was published—though I have never heard whether the amiable +anti-saccharists or their descendants have founded any association to +weep for the ruin of the West India planters first, and the West India +Islands afterwards. + +Two other kinds of purpose appear in the novel, both of them distinctly +political. In _Headlong Hall_ the attack on the _Quarterly Review_ had +been tolerably obvious, but it had kept, if not entirely, yet mainly +free of personalities. The scenes at Cimmerian Lodge and Mainchance +Villa, with Mr. Feathernest’s sojourn at Melincourt, substitute for this +impersonality a directness of personal lampoon as to the taste of which +there cannot be very much question, while as to the justice and accuracy +of it there cannot be, and among rational people of both sides never has +been, any but one opinion. Mr. Vamp (Gifford), Mr. Anyside Antijack +(Canning), and Mr. Killthedead (believed to be Barrow, Secretary to the +Admiralty, and a well-known writer on naval subjects), were perhaps fair +game, for the two last were public men—in other words, public +targets—and Gifford had only himself to blame if, after playing all his +life at the roughest and most vicious of bowls, he got some rubbers. But +the animus, the injustice, and, above all, the ludicrous inaccuracy of +the attacks on Coleridge (Mr. Mystic), Southey (Mr. Feathernest), and +Wordsworth (Mr. Paperstamp), are still almost inconceivable. That there +was a certain superficial justification for accusing them all, +especially Coleridge and Southey, of rather remarkable changes of +opinion, that Coleridge was apt to be a little transcendental, and so +forth, may be granted. But the attempt to carry the satire on to their +moral and personal conduct is not only unjustifiable in itself, but +displays a quite ludicrous ignorance and recklessness. Coleridge, heaven +knows, was open enough to satire; and if Peacock had known anything +whatever about him, he might have made a rather terrible exposure. But +‘Mr. Mystic,’ with his elaborate establishment at Cimmerian Lodge, is so +unlike the fugitive philosopher who seldom had where to lay his head +except in other men’s houses, that even amusement is difficult. And when +we remember the style of living in which Wordsworth, even at his +wealthiest, indulged, and his tastes in all matters of art, coarse and +fine, the extensive dinner-party at Mainchance Villa and its ‘mighty +claret-shed’ become a very poor jest. The ‘sooth bourd’ may be ‘nae +bourd,’ but the bourd which is altogether and glaringly opposite to the +truth is a good deal worse. Most inexcusable of the three attacks, +however, is that on Southey, which, I am sorry to say, is renewed (as it +were, _sotto voce_) by the allusions to ‘Mr. Sackbut’ in _Nightmare +Abbey_. That Southey gave some provocation to the irregulars of the Whig +party by his slightly pharisaic airs of virtue, and some handle not +merely by his curious political history, but by his more voluminous than +impeccable poetical work, is undeniable. But to represent him as a +rascal, though it might be worthy of Byron, was not worthy of Peacock; +and to represent him as selling his soul for the pittance of the +laureateship was unpardonable. Southey, as Shelley himself and many +others of Peacock’s friends could have told the author of _Melincourt_, +‘feathered his nest’ with nothing but books, worked like a navvy (only +that the navvy works in bursts and Southey worked unceasingly), at the +least paying kinds of literature, in order to procure that lining, and +lived, though not sordidly, with the utmost simplicity. It would perhaps +be less difficult to forgive this unfairness if the result were more +amusing, but as it is Peacock is condemned by the laws of art no less +than by those of ethics. + +He was quite infinitely more fortunate in his other political foray—the +satire on rotten boroughs in the history of the Onevote election. The +rotten-borough system may have had its advantages, but nobody ever +denied that it lent itself admirably to satire; and I am rather inclined +to fix on this as the first complete example of Peacock’s method of +sarcastic exposure. Indeed, ‘Mr. Sarcastic’ himself, unless my +imagination deceives me, comes nearer to Peacock’s own character than +almost any other of his personages. And the whole thing, in a bravura +style, is capital. It is indeed sad to notice that the constant +legislative curtailments of the picturesque and pleasing in politics +have quite recently done away with the last shred of actuality in the +Onevote episode. For it was recorded, during the first Parish Council +elections recently, that an actual Mr. Christopher Corporate was +practically disfranchised, because, though he proposed his candidate, +and might have voted for him, he was not allowed as a seconder, and no +other existed. + +The not sarcastic or not purely sarcastic scenes and personages of the +novel have considerable merit, which would be more easily perceptible if +they were not kept apart from each other by so much of the +Fax-and-Forester business. Anthelia has excited interest and admiration +as a reminiscence of Peacock’s first love, and a first draft of the more +perfectly conceived Susannah Touchandgo in _Crotchet Castle_. They both +exhibit—with some modern touches, chiefly in the latter of the pair—the +sentimental but intelligent heroine of the last century. Mrs. Pinmoney +and her daughter are slight, but good, and the former’s list of tastes +is a capital passage, while Sir Telegraph Paxarett is an excellent +personage, showing something of Thackeray’s partiality for making a +young man of fashion not quite a coxcomb, such as the older novelists +had been prone to draw him. Mr. Derrydown, who is a sort of first sketch +of Mr. Chainmail in _Crotchet Castle_, is a very intelligent +mediaevalist; and the ‘supers,’ Mr. O’Scarum and the rest, play their +parts very well. + +These compliments, however, will hardly extend to the hero or the +villains, though they apply with redoubled force to Sir Oran Haut-ton. +The quadrumanous baronet, indeed, is such an excellent fellow, that one +almost wishes he could have been discovered to be no Orang at all, but a +baby lost early in the woods, could have recovered his speech, improved +his good looks, and married Anthelia. For his patron, friend, rival, and +almost namesake, Sylvan Forester, is a terrible prig and bore. It is +difficult to believe that Peacock can have sympathised with him, and +impossible not to think that he simply followed the old theory of the +good young hero, as he did other old theories in the elopement and +recovery. But Mr. Forester is not much worse than the villains. +Grovelgrub indeed, though he is much worse than Portpipe (who is not +detestable), and is the sequel to Gaster in Peacock’s curious warfare +against the clergy, has a touch of wit now and then. But Lord Anophel +Achthar (how with that title he came to be heir-apparent to a marquis +Peacock does not explain) is an exceeding poor creature, not much more +valorous than Bob Acres, without any of Bob’s redeeming fun, and as dull +a dog as need or need not be. + +One very curious feature in the book is the chess dance, which has been +sometimes carried out since in reality. It is one of not the least +interesting points in Peacock’s rather enigmatic character that he seems +to have had a liking for pageants and shows, whether in themselves, or +(in this particular instance) because of the example in his beloved +Rabelais, or as fashions of old time—for there never was such a lover of +old time as this Liberal free-lance. His grand-daughter tells us that he +used to hold Lady-of-the-May revels in his old age for the children at +Halliford, and the Aristophanic play in _Gryll Grange_ partakes at least +as much of this fancy as of the direct liking for theatrical performance +proper which Peacock had, and which made him for some years a regular +theatrical and operatic critic. + +The songs of _Melincourt_ are, considering its length, not numerous, and +only one of them is, for Peacock, of the first class. Anthelia’s first +ballad, “The Tomb of Love,” is not very much above the strains of the +unhappy Della Crusca and his mates, whose bodies in her time still, to +speak figuratively, lay scattered on the critic mountains cold, where +they had been left by Gifford’s tomahawk. Nor is her second, “The Flower +of Love,” much better. The terzetto, which immediately follows this, is +not very strong, though “Hark o’er the Silent Waters Stealing” is +tolerable, and “The Morning of Love” is very fair imitation-Moore, and +the Antijacobin quintet very fair Hook. Of the two remaining serious +pieces “The Sun-Dial” is much better than “The Magic Bark.” But the +credit of the verse of this novel must rest upon “The Ghosts.” It faces +a page in which Southey is represented as saying of himself, “I knocked +myself down to the highest bidder,” and interrupts a discussion which, +putting aside this childish injustice, Mr. Hippy most properly describes +as “dry,” so that it must have been a considerable relief at the time. +The disputants, it is true, relapse; but probably few attended to them +originally, and now, through most of the rest of the novel, the reader +catches himself humming at intervals, + + Let the Ocean be Port, and we’ll think it good sport + To be laid in that Red Sea! + + GEORGE SAINTSBURY. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + PAGE + PREFACE TO THE EDITION PUBLISHED IN 1856 1 + + CHAPTER I + ANTHELIA 5 + + CHAPTER II + FASHIONABLE ARRIVALS 14 + + CHAPTER III + HYPOCON HOUSE 22 + + CHAPTER IV + REDROSE ABBEY 29 + + CHAPTER V + SUGAR 38 + + CHAPTER VI + SIR ORAN HAUT-TON 44 + + CHAPTER VII + THE PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION 56 + + CHAPTER VIII + THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY 62 + + CHAPTER IX + THE PHILOSOPHY OF BALLADS 67 + + CHAPTER X + THE TORRENT 75 + + CHAPTER XI + LOVE AND MARRIAGE 85 + + CHAPTER XII + LOVE AND POVERTY 91 + + CHAPTER XIII + DESMOND 95 + + CHAPTER XIV + THE COTTAGE 107 + + CHAPTER XV + THE LIBRARY 115 + + CHAPTER XVI + THE SYMPOSIUM 121 + + CHAPTER XVII + MUSIC AND DISCORD 132 + + CHAPTER XVIII + THE STRATAGEM 139 + + CHAPTER XIX + THE EXCURSION 147 + + CHAPTER XX + THE SEA-SHORE 155 + + CHAPTER XXI + THE CITY OF NOVOTE 161 + + CHAPTER XXII + THE BOROUGH OF ONEVOTE 168 + + CHAPTER XXIII + THE COUNCIL OF WAR 182 + + CHAPTER XXIV + THE BAROUCHE 188 + + CHAPTER XXV + THE WALK 195 + + CHAPTER XXVI + THE COTTAGERS 200 + + CHAPTER XXVII + THE ANTI-SACCHARINE FÊTE 206 + + CHAPTER XXVIII + THE CHESS DANCE 212 + + CHAPTER XXIX + THE DISAPPEARANCE 220 + + CHAPTER XXX + THE PAPER-MILL 226 + + CHAPTER XXXI + CIMMERIAN LODGE 232 + + CHAPTER XXXII + THE DESERTED MANSION 243 + + CHAPTER XXXIII + THE PHANTASM 250 + + CHAPTER XXXIV + THE CHURCHYARD 256 + + CHAPTER XXXV + THE RUSTIC WEDDING 261 + + CHAPTER XXXVI + THE VICARAGE 268 + + CHAPTER XXXVII + THE MOUNTAINS 273 + + CHAPTER XXXVIII + THE FRACAS 276 + + CHAPTER XXXIX + MAINCHANCE VILLA 281 + + CHAPTER XL + THE HOPES OF THE WORLD 295 + + CHAPTER XLI + ALGA CASTLE 305 + + CHAPTER XLII + CONCLUSION 316 + + + + + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + Sir Oran Haut-ton _Frontispiece_ + Both Irishmen and clergymen 4 + He was always found in the morning comfortably asleep 8 + A journey to London 11 + Fashionable arrivals 15 + Old Harry had become, by long habit, a curious species of + animated mirror 24 + Sprang up, flung his night-gown one way, his night-cap + another 27 + ‘Possibly,’ thought Sir Telegraph, ‘possibly I may have + seen an uglier fellow’ 32 + Sir Oran took a flying leap through the window 36 + Mr. Fax 57 + Anthelia 72 + Proceeded very deliberately to pull up a pine 78 + Alighted on the doctor’s head as he was crossing the + court 82 + ‘My dear sir, only take the trouble of sitting a few + hours in my shop’ 98 + Sir Oran sat down in the artist’s seat 110 + Mr. Feathernest 123 + He managed so skilfully that his Lordship became himself + the proposer of the scheme 138 + She thought there was something peculiar in his look 141 + He caught them both up, one under each arm 145 + Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of + Mr. Hippy 158 + ‘We shall always be deeply attentive to your interests’ 172 + ‘Hail, plural unit!’ 176 + Began to lay about him with great vigour and effect 179 + Perched on the summit of the rock 183 + ‘My father,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘began what I merely + perpetuate’ 203 + The company was sipping, not without many wry faces, + their anti-saccharine tea 213 + Mr. Fax was of opinion that he was smitten 221 + Mr. Mystic observed that they must go farther 236 + Sir Oran Haut-ton ascending the stairs with the great + rain-water tub 240 + Mr. Forester made inquiries of him 246 + Sir Oran, throwing himself into a chair, began to shed + tears in great abundance 253 + A great press of business to dispose of 257 + ‘Do you know, that in all likelihood, in the course of + six years, you will have as many children?’ 263 + Sir Bonus Mac Scrip retreated through the breach, and + concealed himself under the dining-table 279 + She immediately ran through the shrubbery 304 + He flattered himself that Anthelia would at length come + to a determination 308 + Gazing on the changeful aspects of the wintry sea 311 + Preparing to administer natural justice by throwing him + out at the window 318 + We shall leave them to run _ad libitum_ 320 + ‘He would confess all’ 322 + + + + + MELINCOURT + + OR + + SIR ORAN HAUT-TON + + _VOCEM COMOEDIA TOLLIT_[1] + + + + + PREFACE + TO THE EDITION PUBLISHED IN 1856[2] + + +‘Melincourt’ was first published thirty-nine years ago. Many changes +have since occurred, social, mechanical, and political. The boroughs of +Onevote and Threevotes have been extinguished: but there remain boroughs +of Fewvotes, in which Sir Oran Haut-ton might still find a free and +enlightened constituency. Beards disfigure the face, and tobacco poisons +the air, in a degree not then imagined. A boy, with a cigar in his +mouth, was a phenomenon yet unborn. Multitudinous bubbles have been +blown and have burst: sometimes prostrating dupes and impostors +together; sometimes leaving a colossal jobber upright in his triumphal +chariot, which has crushed as many victims as the car of Juggernaut. +Political mountebanks have founded profitable investments on public +gullibility. British colonists have been compelled to emancipate their +slaves; and foreign slave labour, under the pretext of free trade, has +been brought to bear against them by the friends of liberty. The Court +is more moral: therefore, the public is more moral; more decorous, at +least in external semblance, wherever the homage, which Hypocrisy pays +to Virtue, can yield any profit to the professor: but always ready for +the same reaction, with which the profligacy of the Restoration rolled, +like a spring-tide, over the Puritanism of the Commonwealth. The +progress of intellect, with all deference to those who believe in it, is +not quite so obvious as the progress of mechanics. The ‘reading public’ +has increased its capacity of swallow, in a proportion far exceeding +that of its digestion. Thirty-nine years ago, steamboats were just +coming into action, and the railway locomotive was not even thought of. +Now everybody goes everywhere: going for the sake of going, and +rejoicing in the rapidity with which they accomplish nothing. _On va, +mais on ne voyage pas._ Strenuous idleness drives us on the wings of +steam in boats and trains, seeking the art of enjoying life, which, +after all, is in the regulation of the mind, and not in the whisking +about of the body.[3] Of the disputants whose opinions and public +characters (for I never trespassed on private life) were shadowed in +some of the persons of the story, almost all have passed from the +diurnal scene. Many of the questions, discussed in the dialogues, have +more of general than of temporary application, and have still their +advocates on both sides: and new questions have arisen, which furnish +abundant argument for similar conversations, and of which I may yet, +perhaps, avail myself on some future occasion. + + THE AUTHOR OF ‘HEADLONG HALL.’ + + + _March 1856._ + + +[Illustration: _Both Irishmen and clergymen._] + + + + + CHAPTER I + ANTHELIA + + +Anthelia Melincourt, at the age of twenty-one, was mistress of herself +and of ten thousand a year, and of a very ancient and venerable castle +in one of the wildest valleys in Westmoreland. It follows of course, +without reference to her personal qualifications, that she had a very +numerous list of admirers, and equally of course that there were both +Irishmen and clergymen among them. The young lady nevertheless possessed +sufficient attractions to kindle the flames of disinterested passion; +and accordingly we shall venture to suppose that there was at least one +in the number of her sighing swains with whom her rent-roll and her old +castle were secondary considerations; and if the candid reader should +esteem this supposition too violent for the probabilities of daily +experience in this calculating age, he will at least concede it to that +degree of poetical licence which is invariably accorded to a tale +founded on facts. + +Melincourt Castle had been a place of considerable strength in those +golden days of feudal and royal prerogative, when no man was safe in his +own house unless he adopted every possible precaution for shutting out +all his neighbours. It is, therefore, not surprising, that a rock, of +which three sides were perpendicular, and which was only accessible on +the fourth by a narrow ledge, forming a natural bridge over a tremendous +chasm, was considered a very enviable situation for a gentleman to build +on. An impetuous torrent boiled through the depth of the chasm, and +after eddying round the base of the castle-rock, which it almost +insulated, disappeared in the obscurity of a woody glen, whose +mysterious recesses, by popular superstition formerly consecrated to the +devil, are now fearlessly explored by the solitary angler, or laid open +to view by the more profane hand of the picturesque tourist, who +contrives, by the magic of his pencil, to transport their romantic +terrors from the depths of mountain solitude to the gay and crowded, +though not very wholesome, atmosphere of a metropolitan exhibition. + +The narrow ledge, which formed the only natural access to the +castle-rock, had been guarded by every impediment which the genius of +fortification could oppose to the progress of the hungry Scot, who might +be disposed, in his neighbourly way, to drop in without invitation and +carouse at the expense of the owner, rewarding him, as usual, for his +extorted hospitality, by cutting his throat and setting fire to his +house. A drawbridge over the chasm, backed by a double portcullis, +presented the only mode of admission. In this secure retreat thus +strongly guarded both by nature and art, and always plentifully +victualled for a siege, lived the lords of Melincourt in all the luxury +of rural seclusion, throwing open their gates on occasional halcyon days +to regale all the peasants and mountaineers of the vicinity with roasted +oxen and vats of October. + +When these times of danger and turbulence had passed, Melincourt Castle +was not, as most of its brother edifices were, utterly deserted. The +drawbridge, indeed, became gradually divorced from its chains; the +double portcullis disappeared; the turrets and battlements were +abandoned to the owl and the ivy; and a very spacious wing was left free +to the settlement of a colony of ghosts, which, according to the report +of the peasantry and the domestics, very soon took possession, and +retained it most pertinaciously, notwithstanding the pious incantations +of the neighbouring vicar, the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, who often passed +the night in one of the dreaded apartments over a blazing fire with the +same invariable exorcising apparatus of a large venison pasty, a little +Prayer-book, and three bottles of Madeira: for the reverend gentleman +sagaciously observed, that as he had always found the latter an +infallible charm against blue devils, he had no doubt of its proving +equally efficacious against black, white, and gray. In this opinion +experience seemed to confirm him; for though he always maintained a +becoming silence as to the mysteries of which he was a witness during +his spectral vigils, yet a very correct inference might be drawn from +the fact that he was always found in the morning comfortably asleep in +his large arm-chair, with the dish scraped clean, the three bottles +empty, and the Prayer-book clasped and folded precisely in the same +state and place in which it had lain the preceding night. + +[Illustration: _He was always found in the morning comfortably asleep._] + +But the larger and more commodious part of the castle continued still to +be inhabited; and while one half of the edifice was fast improving into +a picturesque ruin, the other was as rapidly degenerating, in its +interior at least, into a comfortable modern dwelling. + +In this romantic seclusion Anthelia was born. Her mother died in giving +her birth. Her father, Sir Henry Melincourt, a man of great +acquirements, and of a retired disposition, devoted himself in solitude +to the cultivation of his daughter’s understanding; for he was one of +those who maintained the heretical notion that women are, or at least +may be, rational beings; though, from the great pains usually taken in +what is called education to make them otherwise, there are unfortunately +very few examples to warrant the truth of the theory. + +The majestic forms and wild energies of Nature that surrounded her from +her infancy impressed their character on her mind, communicating to it +all their own wildness, and more than their own beauty. Far removed from +the pageantry of courts and cities, her infant attention was awakened to +spectacles more interesting and more impressive: the misty mountain-top, +the ash-fringed precipice, the gleaming cataract, the deep and shadowy +glen, and the fantastic magnificence of the mountain clouds. The murmur +of the woods, the rush of the winds, and the tumultuous dashing of the +torrents, were the first music of her childhood. A fearless wanderer +among these romantic solitudes, the spirit of mountain liberty diffused +itself through the whole tenor of her feelings, modelled the symmetry of +her form, and illumined the expressive but feminine brilliancy of her +features: and when she had attained the age at which the mind expands +itself to the fascinations of poetry, the muses of Italy became the +chosen companions of her wanderings, and nourished a naturally +susceptible imagination by conjuring up the splendid visions of chivalry +and enchantment in scenes so congenial to their development. + +It was seldom that the presence of a visitor dispelled the solitude of +Melincourt; and the few specimens of the living world with whom its +inmates held occasional intercourse were of the usual character of +country acquaintance, not calculated to leave behind them any very +lively regret, except for the loss of time during the period of their +stay. One of these was the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, whom we have already +celebrated for his proficiency in the art of exorcising goblins by dint +of venison and Madeira. His business in the ghost line had, indeed, +declined with the progress of the human understanding, and no part of +his vocation was in very high favour with Sir Henry, who, though an +unexceptionable moral character, was unhappily not one of the children +of grace, in the theological sense of the word: but the vicar, adopting +St. Paul’s precept of being all things to all men, found it on this +occasion his interest to be liberal; and observing that no man could +coerce his opinions, repeated with great complacency the line of Virgil: + + Tros Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur; + +though he took especial care that his heterodox concession should not +reach the ears of his bishop, who would infallibly have unfrocked him +for promulgating a doctrine so subversive of the main pillar of all +orthodox establishments. + +When Anthelia had attained her sixteenth year, her father deemed it +necessary to introduce her to that human world of which she had hitherto +seen so little, and for this purpose took a journey to London, where he +was received by the surviving portion of his old acquaintance as a ghost +returned from Acheron. The impression which the gay scenes of the +metropolis made on the mind of Anthelia—to what illustrious characters +she was introduced—‘and all she thought of all she saw,’—it would be +foreign to our present purpose to detail; suffice it to say, that from +this period Sir Henry regularly passed the winter in London and the +summer in Westmoreland, till his daughter attained the age of twenty, +about which period he died. + +Anthelia passed twelve months from this time in total seclusion at +Melincourt, notwithstanding many pressing invitations from various +match-making dowagers in London, who were solicitous to dispose of her +according to their views of her advantage; in which how far their own +was lost sight of it may not be difficult to determine. + +[Illustration: _A journey to London._] + +Among the numerous lovers who had hitherto sighed at her shrine, not one +had succeeded in making the slightest impression on her heart; and +during the twelve months of seclusion which elapsed from the death of +her father to the commencement of this authentic history, they had all +completely vanished from the tablet of her memory. Her knowledge of love +was altogether theoretical; and her theory, being formed by the study of +Italian poetry in the bosom of mountain solitude, naturally and +necessarily pointed to a visionary model of excellence which it was very +little likely the modern world could realise. + +The dowagers, at length despairing of drawing her from her retirement, +respectively came to various resolutions for the accomplishment of their +ends; some resolving to go in person to Melincourt, and exert all their +powers of oratory to mould her to their wishes, and others instigating +their several _protégés_ to set boldly forward in search of fortune, and +lay siege to the castle and its mistress together. + + + + + CHAPTER II + FASHIONABLE ARRIVALS + + +It was late in the afternoon of an autumnal day, when the elegant +post-chariot of the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney, a lady of high renown in +the annals of match-making, turned the corner of a stupendous precipice +in the narrow pass which formed the only access to the valley of +Melincourt. This honourable lady was accompanied by her only daughter +Miss Danaretta Contantina; which names, by the bye, appear to be female +diminutives of the Italian words _danaro contante_, signifying _ready +money_, and genteelly hinting to all fashionable Strephons, the only +terms on which the _commodity_ so denominated would be disposed of, +according to the universal practice of this liberal and enlightened +generation, in that most commercial of all bargains, marriage. + +[Illustration: _Fashionable arrivals._] + +The ivied battlements and frowning towers of Melincourt Castle, as they +burst at once upon the sight, very much astonished the elder and +delighted the younger lady; for the latter had cultivated a great deal +of theoretical romance—in taste, not in feeling—an important +distinction—which enabled her to be most liberally sentimental in words, +without at all influencing her actions; to talk of heroic affection and +selfsacrificing enthusiasm, without incurring the least danger of +forming a disinterested attachment, or of erring in any way whatever on +the score of practical generosity. Indeed, in all respects of practice +the young lady was the true counterpart of her mother, though they +sometimes differed a little in the forms of sentiment: thus, for +instance, when any of their dear friends happened to go, as it is +called, down hill in the world, the old lady was generally very severe +on their _imprudence_, and the young lady very pathetic on their +_misfortune_: but as to holding any further intercourse with, or +rendering any species of assistance to, any dear friend so +circumstanced, neither the one nor the other was ever suspected of +conduct so very unfashionable. In the main point, therefore, of both +their lives, that of making a _good match_ for Miss Danaretta, their +views perfectly coincided; and though Miss Danaretta, in her speculative +conversations on this subject, among her female acquaintance, talked as +young ladies always talk, and laid down very precisely _the only kind of +man she would ever think of marrying_, endowing him, of course, with all +the virtues in our good friend Hookman’s Library; yet it was very well +understood, as it usually is on similar occasions, that no other proof +of the possession of the aforesaid virtues would be required from any +individual who might present himself in the character of _Corydon +sospiroso_ than a satisfactory certificate from the old lady in +Threadneedle Street, that the bearer was a _good man_, and could be +proved so in the _Alley_. + +Such were the amiable specimens of worldly wisdom, and affected romance, +that prepared to invade the retirement of the mountain-enthusiast, the +really romantic unworldly Anthelia. + +‘What a strange-looking old place!’ said Mrs. Pinmoney; ‘it seems like +anything but the dwelling of a young heiress. I am afraid the rascally +postboys have joined in a plot against us, and intend to deliver us to a +gang of thieves!’ + +‘Banditti, you should say, mamma,’ said Miss Danaretta; ‘thieves is an +odious word.’ + +‘Pooh, child!’ said Mrs. Pinmoney. ‘The reality is odious enough, let +the word be what it will. Is not a rogue a rogue, call him by what name +you may?’ + +‘Oh, certainly not,’ said Miss Danaretta; ‘for in that case a poor rogue +without a title, would not be more a rogue than a rich rogue with one; +but that he is so in a most infinite proportion, the whole experience of +the world demonstrates.’ + +‘True,’ said the old lady; ‘and as our reverend friend Dr. Bosky +observes, to maintain the contrary would be to sanction a principle +utterly subversive of all social order and aristocratical privilege.’ + +The carriage now rolled over the narrow ledge which connected the site +of the castle with the neighbouring rocks. A furious peal at the outer +bell brought forth a venerable porter, who opened the gates with +becoming gravity, and the carriage entered a spacious court, of much +more recent architecture than the exterior of the castle, and built in a +style of modern Gothic, that seemed to form a happy medium between the +days of feudality, commonly called the dark ages, and the nineteenth +century, commonly called the enlightened age: _why_ I could never +discover. + +The inner gates were opened by another grave and venerable domestic, +who, with all the imperturbable decorum and formality of the old school, +assisted the ladies to alight, and ushered them along an elegant +colonnade into the library, which we shall describe no further than by +saying that the apartment was Gothic, and the furniture Grecian: whether +this be an unpardonable incongruity calculated to disarrange all +legitimate associations, or a judicious combination of solemnity and +elegance, most happily adapted to the purposes of study, we must leave +to the decision, or rather discussion, of picturesque and antiquarian +disputants. + +The windows, which were of stained glass, were partly open to a +shrubbery, which admitting the meditative mind into the recesses of +nature, and excluding all view of distant scenes, heightened the deep +seclusion and repose of the apartment. It consisted principally of +evergreens; but the parting beauty of the last flowers of autumn, and +the lighter and now fading tints of a few deciduous shrubs, mingled with +the imperishable verdure of the cedar and the laurel. + +The old domestic went in search of his young mistress, and the ladies +threw themselves on a sofa in graceful attitudes. They were shortly +joined by Anthelia, who welcomed them to Melincourt with all the +politeness which the necessity of the case imposed. + +The change of dress, the dinner, the dessert, seasoned with the _newest +news_ of the fashionable world, which the visitors thought must be of +all things the most delightful to the mountain recluse, filled up a +portion of the evening. When they returned from the dining-room to the +library, the windows were closed, the curtains drawn, and the tea and +coffee urns bubbling on the table, and sending up their steamy columns: +an old fashion to be sure, and sufficiently rustic, for which we +apologise in due form to the reader, who prefers his tea and coffee +brought in cool by the butler in little cups on a silver salver, and +handed round to the simpering company till it is as cold as an Iceland +spring. There is no disputing about taste, and the taste of Melincourt +Castle on this subject had been always very poetically unfashionable; +for the tea would have satisfied Johnson, and the coffee enchanted +Voltaire. + +‘I must confess, my dear,’ said the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney, ‘there is +a great deal of comfort in your way of living, that is, there would be, +in good company; but you are so solitary——’ + +‘Here is the best of company,’ said Anthelia, smiling, and pointing to +the shelves of the library. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ Very true: books are very good things in their +way; but an hour or two at most is quite enough of them for me; more can +serve no purpose but to muddle one’s head. If I were to live such a life +for a week as you have done for the last twelve months, I should have +more company than I like, in the shape of a whole legion of blue devils. + +_Miss Danaretta._ Nay, I think there is something delightfully romantic +in Anthelia’s mode of life; but I confess I should like now and then, +peeping through the ivy of the battlements, to observe a _preux +chevalier_ exerting all his eloquence to persuade the inflexible porter +to open the castle gates, and allow him one opportunity of throwing +himself at the feet of the divine lady of the castle, for whom he had +been seven years dying a lingering death. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ And growing fatter all the while. Heaven +defend me from such hypocritical fops! Seven years indeed! It did not +take as many weeks to bring me and poor dear dead Mr. Pinmoney together. + +_Anthelia._ I should have been afraid that so short an acquaintance +would scarcely have been sufficient to acquire that mutual knowledge of +each other’s tastes, feelings, and character, which I should think the +only sure basis of matrimonial happiness. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ Tastes, feelings, and character! Why, my love, +you really do seem to believe yourself in the age of chivalry, when +those words certainly signified very essential differences. But now the +matter is, very happily, simplified. Tastes,—they depend on the fashion. +There is always a fashionable taste: a taste for driving the mail—a +taste for acting Hamlet—a taste for philosophical lectures—a taste for +the marvellous—a taste for the simple—a taste for the brilliant—a taste +for the sombre—a taste for the tender—a taste for the grim—a taste for +banditti—a taste for ghosts—a taste for the devil—a taste for French +dancers and Italian singers, and German whiskers and tragedies—a taste +for enjoying the country in November, and wintering in London till the +end of the dog-days—a taste for making shoes—a taste for picturesque +tours—a taste for taste itself, or for essays on taste;—but no gentleman +would be so rash as have a taste of his own, or his last winter’s taste, +or any taste, my love, but the fashionable taste. Poor dear Mr. Pinmoney +was reckoned a man of exquisite taste among all his acquaintance; for +the new taste, let it be what it would, always fitted him as well as his +new coat, and he was the very pink and mirror of fashion, as much in the +one as the other.—So much for tastes, my dear. + +_Anthelia._ I am afraid I shall always be a very unfashionable creature; +for I do not think I should have sympathised with any one of the tastes +you have just enumerated. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ You are so contumacious, such a romantic +heretic from the orthodox supremacy of fashion. Now, as for feelings, my +dear, you know there are no such things in the fashionable world; +therefore that difficulty vanishes even more easily than the first. + +_Anthelia._ I am sorry for it. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ Sorry! Feelings are very troublesome things, +and always stand in the way of a person’s own interests. Then, as to +character, a gentleman’s character is usually in the keeping of his +banker, or his agent, or his steward, or his solicitor; and if they can +certify and demonstrate that he has the means of keeping a handsome +equipage, and a town and country house, and of giving routs and dinners, +and of making a good settlement on the happy object of his choice—what +more of any gentleman’s character would you desire to know? + +_Anthelia._ A great deal more. I would require him to be free in all his +thoughts, true in all his words, generous in all his actions—ardent in +friendship, enthusiastic in love, disinterested in both—prompt in the +conception, and constant in the execution, of benevolent enterprise—the +friend of the friendless, the champion of the feeble, the firm opponent +of the powerful oppressor—not to be enervated by luxury, nor corrupted +by avarice, nor intimidated by tyranny, nor enthralled by +superstition—more desirous to distribute wealth than to possess it, to +disseminate liberty than to appropriate power, to cheer the heart of +sorrow than to dazzle the eyes of folly. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ And do you really expect to find such a +knight-errant? The age of chivalry is gone. + +_Anthelia._ It is, but its spirit survives. Disinterested benevolence, +the mainspring of all that is really admirable in the days of chivalry, +will never perish for want of some minds calculated to feel its +influence, still less for want of a proper field of exertion. To protect +the feeble, to raise the fallen—to liberate the captive—to be the +persevering foe of tyrants (whether the great tyrant of an overwhelming +empire, the petty tyrant of the fields, or the ‘little tyrant of a +little corporation,’)[4] it is not necessary to wind the bugle before +enchanted castles, or to seek adventures in the depths of mountain +caverns and forests of pine; there is no scene of human life but +presents sufficient scope to energetic generosity; the field of action, +though less splendid in its accompaniments, is not less useful in its +results, nor less attractive to a liberal spirit: and I believe it is +possible to find as true a knight-errant in a brown coat in the +nineteenth century, as in a suit of golden armour in the days of +Charlemagne. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ Well! well! my dear, when you have seen a +little more of the world, you will get rid of some of your chivalrous +whimsies; and I think you will then agree with me that there is not, in +the whole sphere of fashion, a more elegant, fine-spirited, dashing, +generous fellow than my nephew Sir Telegraph Paxarett, who, by the bye, +will be driving his barouche this way shortly, and if you do not +absolutely forbid it, will call on me in his route. + +These words seemed to portend that the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney’s visit +would be a visitation, and at the same time threw a clear light on its +motive; but they gave birth in the mind of Anthelia to a train of ideas +which concluded in a somewhat singular determination. + + + + + CHAPTER III + HYPOCON HOUSE + + +Anthelia had received intimations from various quarters of similar +intentions on the part of various individuals, not less valuable than +Sir Telegraph Paxarett in the scale of moral utility; and though there +was not one among them for whom she felt the slightest interest, she +thought it would be too uncourteous in a pupil of chivalry, and too +inhospitable in the mistress of an old English castle, to bar her gates +against them. At the same time she felt the want of a lord seneschal to +receive and entertain visitors so little congenial to her habits and +inclinations: and it immediately occurred to her that no one would be +more fit for this honourable office, if he could be prevailed on to +undertake it, than an old relation—a medium, as it were, between cousin +and great-uncle; who had occasionally passed a week or a month with her +father at Melincourt. The name of this old gentleman was Hippy—Humphrey +Hippy, Esquire, of Hypocon House, in the county of Durham. He was a +bachelor, and his character exhibited a singular compound of +kind-heartedness, spleen, and melancholy, which governed him by turns, +and sometimes in such rapid succession that they seemed almost +co-existent. To him Anthelia determined on sending an express, with a +letter entreating him to take on himself, for a short time, the +superintendence of Melincourt Castle, and giving as briefly as possible +her reasons for the request. In pursuance of this determination, old +Peter Gray, a favourite domestic of Sir Henry, and, I believe, a distant +relation of little Lucy,[5] was despatched the following morning to +Hypocon House, where the gate was opened to him by old Harry Fell, a +distant relation of little Alice, who, as the reader well knows, +‘belonged to Durham.’ Old Harry had become, by long habit, a curious +species of animated mirror, and reflected all the humours of his master +with wonderful nicety. When Mr. Hippy was in a rage, old Harry looked +fierce; when Mr. Hippy was in a good humour, old Harry was the picture +of human kindness; when Mr. Hippy was blue-devilled, old Harry was +vapourish; when Mr. Hippy was as melancholy as a gib-cat, old Harry was +as dismal as a screech-owl. The latter happened to be the case when old +Peter presented himself at the gate, and old Harry accordingly opened it +with a most rueful elongation of visage. Peter Gray was ready with a +warm salutation for his old acquaintance Harry Fell; but the lamentable +cast of expression in the physiognomy of the latter froze it on his +lips, and he contented himself with asking in a hesitating tone, ‘Is Mr. +Hippy at home?’ + +[Illustration: _Old Harry had become, by long habit, a curious species +of animated mirror._] + +‘He is,’ slowly and sadly articulated Harry Fell, shaking his head. + +‘I have a letter for him,’ said Peter Gray. + +‘Ah!’ said Harry Fell, taking the letter, and stalking off with it as +solemnly as if he had been following a funeral. + +‘A pleasant reception,’ thought Peter Gray, ‘instead of the old ale and +cold sirloin I dreamed of.’ + +Old Harry tapped three times at the door of his master’s chamber, +observing the same interval between each tap as is usual between the +sounds of a muffled drum: then, after a due pause, he entered the +apartment. Mr. Hippy was in his night-gown and slippers, with one leg on +a cushion, suffering under an imaginary attack of the gout, and in the +last stage of despondency. Old Harry walked forward in the same slow +pace till he found himself at the proper distance from his master’s +chair. Then putting forth his hand as deliberately as if it had been the +hour-hand of the kitchen clock, he presented the letter. Mr. Hippy took +it in the same manner, sank back in his chair as if exhausted with the +effort, and cast his eyes languidly on the seal. Immediately his eyes +brightened, he tore open the letter, read it in an instant, sprang up, +flung his night-gown one way, his night-cap another, kicked off his +slippers, kicked away his cushion, kicked over his chair, and bounced +downstairs, roaring for his coat and boots, and his travelling chariot, +with old Harry capering at his heels, and re-echoing all his +requisitions. Harry Fell was now a new man. Peter Gray was seized by the +hand and dragged into the buttery, where a cold goose and a flagon of +ale were placed before him, to which he immediately proceeded to do +ample justice; while old Harry rushed off with a cold fowl and ham for +the refection of Mr. Hippy, who had been too seriously indisposed in the +morning to touch a morsel of breakfast. Having placed these and a bottle +of Madeira in due form and order before his master, he flew back to the +buttery, to assist old Peter in the demolition of the goose and ale, his +own appetite in the morning having sympathised with his master’s, and +being now equally disposed to make up for lost time. + +Mr. Hippy’s travelling chariot was rattled up to the door by four +high-mettled posters from the nearest inn. Mr. Hippy sprang into the +carriage, old Harry vaulted into the dicky, the postilions cracked their +whips, and away they went, + + Over the hills and the plains, + Over the rivers and rocks, + +leaving old Peter gaping after them at the gate, in profound +astonishment at their sudden metamorphosis, and in utter despair of +being able, by any exertions of his own, to be their forerunner and +announcer at Melincourt. Considering, therefore, that when the necessity +of being too late is inevitable, hurry is manifestly superfluous, he +mounted his galloway with great gravity and deliberation, and trotted +slowly off towards the mountains, philosophising all the way in the +usual poetical style of a Cumberland peasant. Our readers will of course +feel much obliged to us for not presenting them with his meditations. +But instead of jogging back with old Peter Gray, or travelling post with +Humphrey Hippy, Esquire, we shall avail ourselves of the four-in-hand +barouche which is just coming in view, to take a seat on the box by the +side of Sir Telegraph Paxarett, and proceed in his company to +Melincourt. + +[Illustration: _Sprang up, flung his night-gown one way, his night-cap +another._] + + + + + CHAPTER IV + REDROSE ABBEY + + +Sir Telegraph Paxarett had entered the precincts of the mountains of +Westmoreland, and was bowling his barouche along a romantic valley, +looking out very anxiously for an inn, as he had now driven his regular +diurnal allowance of miles, and was becoming very impatient for his +equally regular diurnal allowance of fish, fowl, and Madeira. A wreath +of smoke ascending from a thick tuft of trees at a distance, and in a +straight direction before him, cheered up his spirits, and induced him +to cheer up those of his horses with two or three of those technical +terms of the road, which we presume to have formed part of the genuine +language of the ancient Houyhnhnms, since they seem not only much better +adapted to equine than human organs of sound, but are certainly much +more generally intelligible to four-footed than to two-footed animals. +Sir Telegraph was doomed to a temporary disappointment; for when he had +attained the desired point, the smoke proved to issue from the chimneys +of an ancient abbey which appeared to have been recently converted from +a pile of ruins into the habitation of some variety of the human +species, with very singular veneration for the relics of antiquity, +which, in their exterior aspect, had suffered little from the +alteration. There was something so analogous between the state of this +building and what he had heard of Melincourt, that if it had not been +impossible to mistake an abbey for a castle, he might almost have +fancied himself arrived at the dwelling of the divine Anthelia. Under a +detached piece of ruins near the road, which appeared to have been part +of a chapel, several workmen were busily breaking the ground with spade +and pickaxe: a gentleman was superintending their operations, and seemed +very eager to arrive at the object of his search. Sir Telegraph stopped +his barouche to inquire the distance to the nearest inn: the gentleman +replied, ‘Six miles.’ ‘That is just five miles and a half too far,’ said +Sir Telegraph, and was proceeding to drive on, when, on turning round to +make his parting bow to the stranger, he suddenly recognised him for an +old acquaintance and fellow-collegian. + +‘Sylvan Forester!’ exclaimed Sir Telegraph; ‘who should have dreamed of +meeting you in this uncivilised part of the world?’ + +‘I am afraid,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘this part of the world does not +deserve the compliment implied in the epithet you have bestowed on it. +Within no very great distance from this spot are divers towns, villages, +and hamlets, in any one of which, if you have money, you may make pretty +sure of being cheated, and if you have none, quite sure of being +starved—strong evidences of a state of civilisation.’ + +‘Aha!’ said Sir Telegraph, ‘your old way, now I recollect—always fond of +railing at civilised life, and holding forth in praise of savages and +what you called original men. But what, in truth, make you in +Westmoreland?’ + +‘I have purchased this old abbey,’ said Mr. Forester ‘(anciently called +the abbey of Rednose, which I have altered to Redrose, as being more +analogous to my notions of beauty, whatever the reverend Fellows of our +old college might have thought of it), and have fitted it up for my +habitation, with the view of carrying on in peace and seclusion some +peculiar experiments on the nature and progress of man. Will you dine +with me, and pass the night here? and I will introduce you to an +original character.’ + +‘With all my heart,’ said Sir Telegraph; ‘I can assure you, +independently of the pleasure of meeting an old acquaintance, it is a +great comfort to dine in a gentleman’s house, after living from inn to +inn and being poisoned with bad wine for a month.’ + +Sir Telegraph descended from his box, and directed one of his grooms to +open the carriage-door and emancipate the coachman, who was fast asleep +inside. Sir Telegraph gave him the reins, and Mr. Forester sent one of +his workmen to show him the way to the stables. + +[Illustration: ‘_Possibly_,’ _thought Sir Telegraph_, ‘_possibly I may +have seen an uglier fellow_.’] + +‘And pray,’ said Sir Telegraph, as the barouche disappeared among the +trees, ‘what may be the object of your researches in this spot?’ + +‘You know,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘it is a part of my tenets that the human +species is gradually decreasing in size and strength, and I am digging +in the old cemetery for bones and skulls to establish the truth of my +theory.’ + +‘Have you found any?’ said Sir Telegraph. + +‘Many,’ said Mr. Forester. ‘About three weeks ago we dug up a very fine +skeleton, no doubt of some venerable father, who must have been, in more +senses than one, a pillar of the Church. I have had the skull polished +and set in silver. You shall drink your wine out of it, if you please, +to-day.’ + +‘I thank you,’ said Sir Telegraph, ‘but I am not particular; a glass +will suit me as well as the best skull in Europe. Besides, I am a +moderate man: one bottle of Madeira and another of claret are enough for +me at any time; so that the quantity of wine a reverend sconce can carry +would be just treble my usual allowance.’ + +They walked together towards the abbey. Sir Telegraph earnestly +requested, that, before they entered, he might be favoured with a peep +at the stable. Mr. Forester of course complied. Sir Telegraph found this +important part of the buildings capacious and well adapted to its +purpose, but did not altogether approve its being totally masked by an +old ivied wall, which had served in former times to prevent the braw and +bonny Scot from making too free with the beeves of the pious fraternity. + +The new dwelling-house was so well planned, and fitted in so well +between the ancient walls, that very few vestiges of the modern +architect were discernible; and it was obvious that the growth of the +ivy, and of numerous trailing and twining plants, would soon overrun all +vestiges of the innovation, and blend the whole exterior into one +venerable character of antiquity. + +‘I do not think,’ said Mr. Forester, as they proceeded through part of +the grounds, ‘that the most determined zealot of the picturesque would +quarrel with me here. I found the woods around the abbey matured by time +and neglect into a fine state of wildness and intricacy, and I think I +have left enough of them to gratify their most ardent admirer.’ + +‘Quite enough, in all conscience,’ said Sir Telegraph, who was in white +jean trousers, with very thin silk stockings and pumps. ‘I do not +generally calculate on being, as an old song I have somewhere heard +expresses it, + + Forced to scramble, + When I ramble, + Through a copse of furze and bramble; + +which would be all very pleasant perhaps, if the fine effect of +picturesque roughness were not unfortunately, as Macbeth says of his +dagger, “sensible to feeling as to sight.” But who is that gentleman, +sitting under the great oak yonder in the green coat and nankins? He +seems very thoughtful.’ + +‘He is of a contemplative disposition,’ said Mr. Forester: ‘you must not +be surprised if he should not speak a word during the whole time you are +here. The politeness of his manner makes amends for his habitual +taciturnity. I will introduce you.’ + +The gentleman under the oak had by this time discovered them, and came +forward with great alacrity to meet Mr. Forester, who cordially shook +hands with him, and introduced him to Sir Telegraph as Sir Oran +Haut-ton, Baronet. + +Sir Telegraph looked earnestly at the stranger, but was too polite to +laugh, though he could not help thinking there was something very +ludicrous in Sir Oran’s physiognomy, notwithstanding the air of high +fashion which characterised his whole deportment, and which was +heightened by a pair of enormous whiskers, and the folds of a vast +cravat. He therefore bowed to Sir Oran with becoming gravity, and Sir +Oran returned the bow with very striking politeness. + +‘Possibly,’ thought Sir Telegraph, ‘possibly I may have seen an uglier +fellow.’ + +The trio entered the abbey, and shortly after sat down to dinner. + +Mr. Forester and Sir Oran Haut-ton took the head and foot of the table. +Sir Telegraph sat between them. ‘Some soup, Sir Telegraph?’ said Mr. +Forester. ‘I rather think,’ said Sir Telegraph, ‘I shall trouble Sir +Oran for a slice of fish.’ Sir Oran helped him with great dexterity, and +then performed the same office for himself. ‘I think you will like this +Madeira?’ said Mr. Forester. ‘Capital!’ said Sir Telegraph: ‘Sir Oran, +shall I have the pleasure of taking wine with you?’ Sir Oran Haut-ton +bowed gracefully to Sir Telegraph Paxarett, and the glasses were tossed +off with the usual ceremonies. Sir Oran preserved an inflexible silence +during the whole duration of dinner, but showed great proficiency in the +dissection of game. + +[Illustration: _Sir Oran took a flying leap through the window._] + +When the cloth was removed, the wine circulated freely, and Sir +Telegraph, as usual, filled a numerous succession of glasses. Mr. +Forester, not as usual, did the same; for he was generally very +abstemious in this respect; but, on the present occasion, he relaxed +from his severity, quoting the _Placari genius festis impune diebus_, +and the _Dulce est desipere in loco_, of Horace. Sir Oran likewise +approved, by his practice, that he thought the wine particularly +excellent, and _Beviamo tutti tre_ appeared to be the motto of the +party. Mr. Forester inquired into the motives which had brought Sir +Telegraph to Westmoreland; and Sir Telegraph entered into a rapturous +encomium of the heiress of Melincourt which was suddenly cut short by +Sir Oran, who, having taken a glass too much, rose suddenly from table, +took a flying leap through the window, and went dancing along the woods +like a harlequin. + +‘Upon my word,’ said Sir Telegraph, ‘a devilish lively, pleasant fellow! +Curse me if I know what to make of him.’ + +‘I will tell you his history,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘by and by. In the +meantime I must look after him, that he may neither do nor receive +mischief. Pray take care of yourself till I return.’ Saying this, he +sprang through the window after Sir Oran, and disappeared by the same +track among the trees. + +‘Curious enough!’ soliloquised Sir Telegraph; ‘however, not much to +complain of, as the best part of the company is left behind: videlicet, +the bottle.’ + + + + + CHAPTER V + SUGAR + + +Sir Telegraph was tossing off the last heeltap of his regular diurnal +allowance of wine, when Mr. Forester and Sir Oran Haut-ton reappeared, +walking past the window arm in arm; Sir Oran’s mode of progression being +very vacillating, indirect, and titubant; enough so, at least, to show +that he had not completely danced off the effects of the Madeira. Mr. +Forester shortly after entered; and Sir Telegraph inquiring concerning +Sir Oran, ‘I have persuaded him to go to bed,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘and I +doubt not he is already fast asleep.’ A servant now entered with tea. +Sir Telegraph proceeded to help himself, when he perceived there was no +sugar, and reminded his host of the omission. + +_Mr. Forester._ If I had anticipated the honour of your company, Sir +Telegraph, I would have provided myself with a small quantity of that +nefarious ingredient: but in this solitary situation, these things are +not to be had at a moment’s notice. As it is, seeing little company, and +regulating my domestic arrangements on philosophical principles, I never +suffer an atom of West Indian produce to pass my threshold. I have no +wish to resemble those pseudo-philanthropists, those miserable +declaimers against slavery, who are very liberal of words which cost +them nothing, but are not capable of advancing the object they profess +to have at heart, by submitting to the smallest personal privation. If I +wish seriously to exterminate an evil, I begin by examining how far I am +myself, in any way whatever, an accomplice in the extension of its +baleful influence. My reform commences at home. How can I unblushingly +declaim against thieves, while I am a receiver of stolen goods? How can +I seriously call myself an enemy to slavery, while I indulge in the +luxuries that slavery acquires? How can the consumer of sugar pretend to +throw on the grower of it the exclusive burden of their participated +criminality? How can he wash his hands, and say with Pilate, “_I am +innocent of this blood, see ye to it_”? + +Sir Telegraph poured some cream into his unsweetened tea, drank it, and +said nothing. Mr. Forester proceeded: + +If every individual in this kingdom, who is truly and conscientiously an +enemy to the slave-trade, would subject himself to so very trivial a +privation as abstinence from colonial produce, I consider that a mortal +blow would be immediately struck at the roots of that iniquitous system. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ If every individual enemy to the slave-trade +would follow your example, the object would no doubt be much advanced; +but the practice of one individual more or less has little or no +influence on general society: most of us go on with the tide, and the +dread of the single word _quiz_ has more influence in keeping the +greater part of us within the pale of custom, fashion, and precedent, +than all the moral reasonings and declamations in the world will ever +have in persuading us to break through it. As to the diffusion of +liberty, and the general happiness of mankind, which used to be your +favourite topics when we were at college together, I should have thought +your subsequent experience would have shown you that there is not one +person in ten thousand who knows what liberty means, or cares a single +straw for any happiness but his own—— + +_Mr. Forester._ Which his own miserable selfishness must estrange from +him for ever. He whose heart has never glowed with a generous +resolution, who has never felt the conscious triumph of a disinterested +sacrifice, who has never sympathised with human joys or sorrows, but +when they have had a direct and palpable reference to himself, can never +be acquainted with even the semblance of happiness. His utmost enjoyment +must be many degrees inferior to that of a pig, inasmuch as the sordid +mire of selfish and brutal stupidity is more defiling to the soul, than +any coacervation of mere material mud can possibly be to the body. The +latter may be cleared away with two or three ablutions, but the former +cleaves and accumulates into a mass of impenetrable corruption, that +bids defiance to the united powers of Hercules and Alpheus. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Be that as it may, every man will continue to +follow his own fancy. The world is bad enough, I daresay; but it is not +for you or me to mend it. + +_Mr. Forester._ There is the keystone of the evil—mistrust of the +influence of individual example. ‘We are bad ourselves, because we +despair of the goodness of others.’[6] Yet the history of the world +abounds with sudden and extraordinary revolutions in the opinions of +mankind, which have been effected by single enthusiasts. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Speculative opinions have been sometimes +changed by the efforts of roaring fanatics. Men have been found very +easily permutable into _ites_ and _onians_, _avians_, and _arians_, +Wesleyites or Whitfieldites, Huntingdonians or Muggletonians, Moravians, +Trinitarians, Unitarians, Anythingarians: but the metamorphosis only +affects a few obscure notions concerning types, symbols, and mysteries, +which have scarcely any effect on moral theory, and of course, _a +fortiori_, none whatever on moral practice: the latter is for the most +part governed by the general habits and manners of the society we live +in. One man may twang responses in concert with the parish clerk; +another may sit silent in a Quakers’ meeting, waiting for the +inspiration of the Spirit; a third may groan and howl in a tabernacle; a +fourth may breakfast, dine, and sup in a Sandemanian chapel: but meet +any of the four in the common intercourse of society, you will scarcely +know one from another. The single adage, _Charity begins at home_, will +furnish a complete key to the souls of all four; for I have found, as +far as my observation has extended, that men carry their religion[7] in +other men’s heads, and their morality in their own pockets. + +_Mr. Forester._ I think it will be found that individual example has in +many instances produced great moral effects on the practice of society. +Even if it were otherwise, is it not better to be Abdiel among the +fiends, than to be lost and confounded in the legion of imps grovelling +in the train of the evil power? + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ There is something in that. + +_Mr. Forester._ To borrow an allegory from Homer: I would say society is +composed of two urns, one of good, and one of evil. I will suppose that +every individual of the human species receives from his natal genius a +little phial, containing one drop of a fluid, which shall be evil, if +poured into the urn of evil, and good if into that of good. If you were +proceeding to the station of the urns with ten thousand persons, every +one of them predetermined to empty his phial into the urn of evil, which +I fear is too true a picture of the practice of society, should you +consider their example, if you were hemmed in in the centre of them, a +sufficient excuse for not breaking from them, and approaching the +neglected urn? Would you say, “The urn of good will derive little +increase from my solitary drop, and one more or less will make very +little difference in the urn of ill; I will spare myself trouble, do as +the world does, and let the urn of good take its chance, from those who +can approach it with less difficulty”? No: you would rather say, “That +neglected urn contains the hopes of the human species: little, indeed, +is the addition I can make to it, but it will be good as far as it +goes”; and if, on approaching the urn, you should find it not so empty +as you had anticipated, if the genius appointed to guard it should say +to you, “There is enough in this urn already to allow a reasonable +expectation that it will one day be full, and yet it has only +accumulated drop by drop through the efforts of individuals, who broke +through the pale and pressure of the multitude, and did not despair of +human virtue”; would you not feel ten thousand times repaid for the +difficulties you had overcome, and the scoffs of the fools and slaves +you had abandoned, by the single reflection that would then rush upon +your mind, _I am one of these_? + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Gad, very likely: I never considered the +subject in that light. You have made no allowance for the mixture of +good and evil, which I think the fairest state of the case. It seems to +me, that the world always goes on pretty much in one way. People eat, +drink, and sleep, make merry with their friends, get as much money as +they can, marry when they can afford it, take care of their children +because they are their own, are thought well of while they live in +proportion to the depth of their purse, and when they die, are sure of +as good a character on their tombstones as the bellman and stonemason +can afford for their money. + +_Mr. Forester._ Such is the multitude; but there are noble exceptions to +this general littleness. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Now and then an original genius strikes out of +the common track; but there are two ways of doing that—into a worse as +well as a better. + +_Mr. Forester._ There are some assuredly who strike into a better, and +these are the ornaments of their age, and the lights of the world. You +must admit too, that there are many, who, though without energy or +capacity to lead, have yet virtue enough to follow an illustrious +example. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ One or two. + +_Mr. Forester._ In every mode of human action there are two ways to be +pursued—a good and a bad one. It is the duty of every man to ascertain +the former, as clearly as his capacity will admit, by an accurate +examination of general relations; and to act upon it rigidly, without +regard to his own previous habits, or the common practice of the world. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ And you infer from all this that it is my duty +to drink my tea without sugar. + +_Mr. Forester._ I infer that it is the duty of every one, thoroughly +penetrated with the iniquity of the slave-trade, to abstain entirely +from the use of colonial produce. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ I may do that, without any great effort of +virtue. I find the difference, in this instance, more trivial than I +could have supposed. In fact, I never thought of it before. + +_Mr. Forester._ I hope I shall before long have the pleasure of +enrolling you a member of the Anti-saccharine Society, which I have had +the happiness to organise, and which is daily extending its numbers. +Some of its principal members will shortly pay a visit to Redrose Abbey; +and I purpose giving a festival, to which I shall invite all that is +respectable and intelligent in this part of the country, and in which I +intend to demonstrate practically, that a very elegant and luxurious +entertainment may be prepared without employing a single particle of +that abominable ingredient, and theoretically, that the use of sugar is +economically superfluous, physically pernicious, morally atrocious, and +politically abominable. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ I shall be happy to join the party, and I may +possibly bring with me one or two inside passengers, who will prove both +ornamental and attractive to your festival. But you promised me an +account of Sir Oran. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + SIR ORAN HAUT-TON + + +_Mr. Forester._ Sir Oran Haut-ton was caught very young in the woods of +Angola. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Caught! + +_Mr. Forester._ Very young. He is a specimen of the natural and original +man—the wild man of the woods; called in the language of the more +civilised and sophisticated natives of Angola, _Pongo_, and in that of +the Indians of South America, _Oran Outang_. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ The devil he is! + +_Mr. Forester._ Positively. Some presumptuous naturalists have refused +his species the honours of humanity; but the most enlightened and +illustrious philosophers agree in considering him in his true light as +the natural and original man.[8] One French philosopher, indeed, has +been guilty of an inaccuracy, in considering him as a degenerated +man;[9] degenerated he cannot be; as his prodigious physical strength, +his uninterrupted health, and his amiable simplicity of manners +demonstrate. He is, as I have said, a specimen of the natural and +original man—a genuine facsimile of the philosophical Adam. + +He was caught by an intelligent negro very young, in the woods of +Angola; and his gentleness and sweet temper[10] winning the hearts of +the negro and negress, they brought him up in their cottage as the +playfellow of their little boys and girls, where, with the exception of +speech, he acquired the practice of such of the simpler arts of life as +the degree of civilisation in that part of Africa admits. In this way he +lived till he was about seventeen years of age—— + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ By his own reckoning? + +_Mr. Forester._ By analogical computation. At this period, my old friend +Captain Hawltaught of the Tornado frigate, being driven by stress of +weather to the coast of Angola, was so much struck with the +contemplative cast of Sir Oran’s countenance,[11] that he offered the +negro an irresistible bribe to surrender him to his possession. The +negro brought him on board, and took an opportunity to leave him slily, +but with infinite reluctance and sympathetic grief. When the ship +weighed anchor, and Sir Oran found himself separated from the friends of +his youth, and surrounded with strange faces, he wept bitterly,[12] and +fell into such deep grief that his life was despaired of.[13] The +surgeon of the ship did what he could for him; and a much better doctor, +Time, completed his cure. By degrees a very warm friendship for my +friend Captain Hawltaught extinguished his recollection of his negro +friends. Three years they cruised together in the Tornado, when a +dangerous wound compelled the old captain to renounce his darling +element, and lay himself up in ordinary for the rest of his days. He +retired on his half-pay and the produce of his prize-money to a little +village in the West of England, where he employed himself very +assiduously in planting cabbages and watching the changes of the wind. +Mr. Oran, as he was then called, was his inseparable companion, and +became a very expert practical gardener. The old captain used to +observe, he could always say he had an honest man in his house, which +was more than could be said of many honourable houses where there was +much vapouring about honour. + +Mr. Oran had long before shown a taste for music, and with some little +instruction from a marine officer in the Tornado, had become a +proficient on the flute and French horn.[14] He could never be brought +to understand the notes; but, from hearing any simple tune played or +sung two or three times, he never failed to perform it with great +exactness and brilliancy of execution. I shall merely observe, _en +passant_, that music appears, from this and several similar +circumstances, to be more natural to man than speech. The old captain +was fond of his bottle of wine after dinner, and his glass of grog at +night. Mr. Oran was easily brought to sympathise in this taste;[15] and +they have many times sat up together half the night over a flowing bowl, +the old captain singing Rule Britannia, True Courage, or Tom Tough, and +Sir Oran accompanying him on the French horn. + +During a summer tour in Devonshire, I called on my old friend Captain +Hawltaught, and was introduced to Mr. Oran. You, who have not forgotten +my old speculations on the origin and progress of man, may judge of my +delight at this happy _rencontre_. I exerted all the eloquence I was +master of to persuade Captain Hawltaught to resign him to me, that I +might give him a philosophical education.[16] Finding this point +unattainable, I took a house in the neighbourhood, and the intercourse +which ensued was equally beneficial and agreeable to all three. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ And what part did you take in their nocturnal +concerts, with Tom Tough and the French horn? + +_Mr. Forester._ I was seldom present at them, and often remonstrated, +but ineffectually, with the captain, on his corrupting the amiable +simplicity of the natural man by this pernicious celebration of vinous +and spirituous orgies; but the only answer I could ever get from him was +a hearty damn against all water-drinkers, accompanied with a reflection +that he was sure every enemy to wine and grog must have clapped down the +hatches of his conscience on some secret villainy, which he feared good +liquor would pipe ahoy; and he usually concluded by striking up _Nothing +like Grog_, _Saturday Night_, or _Swing the flowing Bowl_, his friend +Oran’s horn ringing in sympathetic symphony. + +The old captain used to say that grog was the elixir of life: but it did +not prove so to him; for one night he tossed off his last bumper, sang +his last stave, and heard the last flourish of his Oran’s horn. I +thought poor Oran would have broken his heart; and, had he not been +familiarised to me, and conceived a very lively friendship for me before +the death of his old friend, I fear the consequences would have been +fatal. + +Considering that change of scene would divert his melancholy, I took him +with me to London. The theatres delighted him, particularly the opera, +which not only accorded admirably with his taste for music, but where, +as he looked round on the ornaments of the fashionable world, he seemed +to be particularly comfortable, and to feel himself completely at home. + +There is, to a stranger, something ludicrous in a first view of his +countenance, which led me to introduce him only into the best society, +where politeness would act as a preventive to the propensity to laugh; +for he has so nice a sense of honour (which I shall observe, by the way, +is peculiar to man), that if he were to be treated with any kind of +contumely, he would infallibly die of a broken heart, as has been seen +in some of his species.[17] With a view of ensuring him the respect of +society which always attends on rank and fortune, I have purchased him a +baronetcy, and made over to him an estate. I have also purchased of the +Duke of Rottenburgh one half of the elective franchise vested in the +body of Mr. Christopher Corporate, the free, fat, and dependent burgess +of the ancient and honourable borough of Onevote, who returns two +members to Parliament, one of whom will shortly be Sir Oran. (_Sir +Telegraph gave a long whistle._) But before taking this important step, +I am desirous that he should _finish his education_. (_Sir Telegraph +whistled again._) I mean to say that I wish, if possible, to put a few +words into his mouth, which I have hitherto found impracticable, though +I do not entirely despair of ultimate success. But this circumstance, +for reasons which I will give you by and by, does not at all militate +against the proofs of his being a man. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ If he be but half a man, he will be the fitter +representative of half an elector; for as that ‘large body corporate of +one,’ the free, fat, and dependent burgess of Onevote, returns two +members to the honourable house, Sir Oran can only be considered as the +representative of half of him. But, seriously, is not your principal +object an irresistible exposure of the universality and omnipotence of +corruption by purchasing for an oran outang one of those seats, the sale +of which is unblushingly acknowledged to be _as notorious as the sun at +noonday_? or do you really think him _one of us_? + +_Mr. Forester._ I really think him a variety of the human species; and +this is a point which I have it much at heart to establish in the +acknowledgment of the civilised world. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Buffon, whom I dip into now and then in the +winter, ranks him, with Linnaeus, in the class of _Simiae_. + +_Mr. Forester._ Linnaeus has given him the curious denominations of +_Troglodytes_, _Homo nocturnus_, and _Homo silvestris_: but he evidently +thought him a man; he describes him as having a hissing speech, +thinking, reasoning, believing that the earth was made for him, and that +he will one day be its sovereign.[18] + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ God save King Oran! By the bye, you put me +very much in mind of Valentine and Orson. This wild man of yours will +turn out some day to be the son of a king, lost in the woods, and +suckled by a lioness:—‘No waiter, but a knight templar’:—no Oran, but a +true prince. + +_Mr. Forester._ As to Buffon, it is astonishing how that great +naturalist could have placed him among the _singes_, when the very words +of his description give him all the characteristics of human nature.[19] +It is still more curious to think that modern travellers should have +made beasts, under the names of Pongos, Mandrills, and Oran Outangs, of +the very same beings whom the ancients worshipped as divinities under +the names of Fauns and Satyrs, Silenus and Pan.[20] + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Your Oran rises rapidly in the scale of +being:—from a baronet and M.P. to a king of the world, and now to a god +of the woods. + +_Mr. Forester._ When I was in London last winter, I became acquainted +with a learned mythologist, who has long laboured to rebuild the fallen +temple of Jupiter. I introduced him to Sir Oran, for whom he immediately +conceived a high veneration, and would never call him by any name but +Pan. His usual salutation to him was in the following words: + + ἐλθε, μακαρ, σκιρτητα, φιλενθεος, ἀντροδιαιτε, + ἁρμονιην κοσμοιο κρεκων φιλοπαιγμονι μολπῃ, + κοσμοκρατωρ, βακχευτα![21] + +Which he thus translated: + + King of the world! enthusiast free, + Who dwell’st in caves of liberty! + And on thy wild pipe’s notes of glee + Respondent Nature’s harmony! + Leading beneath the spreading tree + The Bacchanalian revelry! + +‘This,’ said he, ‘is part of the Orphic invocation of Pan. It alludes to +the happy existence of the dancing Pans, Fauns, Orans, _et id genus +omne_, whose dwellings are the caves of rocks and the hollows of trees, +such as undoubtedly was, or would have been, the natural mode of life of +our friend Pan among the woods of Angola. It alludes, too, to their +musical powers, which in our friend Pan it gives me indescribable +pleasure to find so happily exemplified. The epithet _Bacchic_, our +friend Pan’s attachment to the bottle demonstrates to be very +appropriate; and the epithet κοσμοκρατωρ, king of the world, points out +a striking similarity between the Orphic Pan and the Troglodyte of +Linnaeus, _who believes that the earth was made for him, and that he +will again be its sovereign_.’ He laid great stress on the word AGAIN, +and observed, if he were to develop all the ideas to which this word +gave rise in his mind, he should find ample matter for a volume. Then +repeating several times, Παν κοσμοκρατωρ, and _iterum fore telluris +imperantem_, he concluded by saying he had known many profound +philosophical and mythological systems founded on much slighter +analogies. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Your learned mythologist appears to be non +compos. + +_Mr. Forester._ By no means. He has a system of his own, which only +appears in the present day more absurd than other systems, because it +has fewer followers. The manner in which the spirit of system twists +everything to its own views is truly wonderful. I believe that in every +nation of the earth the system which has most followers will be found +the most absurd in the eye of an enlightened philosophy. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ But if your Oran be a man, how is it that his +long intercourse with other varieties of the human species has not +taught him to speak? + +_Mr. Forester._ Speech is a highly artificial faculty. Civilised man is +a highly artificial animal. The change from the wild to the civilised +state affects not only his moral, but his physical nature, and this not +rapidly and instantly, but in a long process of generations. The same +change is obvious in domestic animals, and in cultivated plants. You +know not where to look for the origin of the common dog, or the common +fowl. The wild and tame hog, and the wild and tame cat, are marked by +more essential differences than the oran and the civilised man. The +origin of corn is as much a mystery to us as the source of the Nile was +to the ancients. Innumerable flowers have been so changed from their +original simplicity, that the art of horticulture may almost lay claim +to the magic of a new creation. Is it then wonderful that the civilised +man should have acquired some physical faculties which the natural man +has not? It is demonstrable that speech is one. I do not, however, +despair of seeing him make some progress in this art. Comparative +anatomy shows that he has all the organs of articulation. Indeed he has, +in every essential particular, the human form, and the human anatomy. +_Now I will only observe that if an animal who walks upright—is of the +human form, both outside and inside—uses a weapon for defence and +attack—associates with his kind—makes huts to defend himself from the +weather, better I believe than those of the New Hollanders—is tame and +gentle—and instead of killing men and women, as he could easily do, +takes them prisoners and makes servants of them—who has, what I think +essential to the human kind, a sense of honour_; which is shown by +breaking his heart, if laughed at, or made a show, or treated with any +kind of contumely—_who, when he is brought into the company of civilised +men, behaves_ (as you have seen) _with dignity and composure, altogether +unlike a monkey; from whom he differs likewise in this material respect, +that he is capable of great attachment to particular persons, of which +the monkey is altogether incapable; and also in this respect, that a +monkey never can be so tamed that we may depend on his not doing +mischief when left alone, by breaking glasses or china within his reach; +whereas the oran outang is altogether harmless;—who has so much of the +docility of a man that he learns not only to do the common offices of +life, but also to play on the flute_ and French horn; _which shows that +he must have an idea of melody and concord of sounds, which no brute +animal has;—and lastly, if joined to all these qualities he has the +organ of pronunciation, and consequently the capacity of speech, though +not the actual use of it; if, I say, such an animal be not a man, I +should desire to know in what the essence of a man consists, and what it +is that distinguishes a natural man from the man of art_.[22] That he +understands many words, though he does not yet speak any, I think you +may have observed, when you asked him to take wine, and applied to him +for fish and partridge.[23] + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ The gestures, however slight, that accompany +the expression of the ordinary forms of intercourse, may possibly +explain that. + +_Mr. Forester._ You will find that he understands many things addressed +to him on occasions of very unfrequent occurrence. _With regard to his +moral character, he is undoubtedly a man, and a much better man than +many that are to be found in civilised countries_,[24] as, when you are +better acquainted with him, I feel very confident you will readily +acknowledge.[25] + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ I shall be very happy, when his election comes +on for Onevote, to drive him down in my barouche to the honourable and +ancient borough. + +Mr. Forester promised to avail himself of this proposal; when the iron +tongue of midnight tolling twelve induced them to separate for the +night. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + THE PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION + + +The next morning, while Sir Telegraph, Sir Oran, and Mr. Forester were +sitting down to their breakfast, a post-chaise rattled up to the door; +the glass was let down, and a tall, thin, pale, grave-looking personage +peeped from the aperture. ‘This is Mr. Fax,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘the +champion of calm reason, the indefatigable explorer of the cold clear +springs of knowledge, the bearer of the torch of dispassionate truth, +that gives more light than warmth. He looks on the human world, the +world of mind, the conflict of interests, the collision of feelings, the +infinitely diversified developments of energy and intelligence, as a +mathematician looks on his diagrams, or a mechanist on his wheels and +pulleys, as if they were foreign to his own nature, and were nothing +more than subjects of curious speculation.’ + +Mr. Forester had not time to say more; for Mr. Fax entered, and shook +hands with him, was introduced in due form to Sir Telegraph, and sat +down to assist in the demolition of the _matériel_ of breakfast. + +_Mr. Fax._ Your Redrose Abbey is a beautiful metamorphosis.—I can +scarcely believe that these are the mouldering walls of the pious +fraternity of Rednose, which I contemplated two years ago. + +_Mr. Forester._ The picturesque tourists will owe me no goodwill for the +metamorphosis, though I have endeavoured to leave them as much mould, +mildew, and weather-stain as possible. + +_Mr. Fax._ The exterior has suffered little; it still retains a truly +venerable monastic character. + +[Illustration: _Mr. Fax._] + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Something monastic in the interior too.—Very +orthodox old wine in the cellar, I can tell you. And the Reverend Father +Abbot there, as determined a bachelor as the Pope. + +_Mr. Forester._ If I am so, it is because, like the Squire of Dames, I +seek and cannot find. I see in my mind’s eye the woman I would choose, +but I very much fear that is the only mode of optics in which she will +ever be visible. + +_Mr. Fax._ No matter. Bachelors and spinsters I decidedly venerate. The +world is overstocked with featherless bipeds. More men than corn is a +fearful pre-eminence, the sole and fruitful cause of penury, disease, +and war, plague, pestilence, and famine. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ I hope you will not long have cause to +venerate me. What is life without love? A rosebush in winter, all +thorns, and no flowers. + +_Mr. Fax._ And what is it with love? A double-blossomed cherry, flowers +without fruit; if the blossoms last a month, it is as much as can be +expected: they fall, and what comes in their place? Vanity, and vexation +of spirit. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Better vexation than stagnation: marriage may +often be a stormy lake, but celibacy is almost always a muddy horsepond. + +_Mr. Fax._ Rather a calm clear river—— + +_Mr. Forester._ Flowing through a desert, where it moves in loneliness, +and reflects no forms of beauty. + +_Mr. Fax._ That is not the way to consider the case. Feelings and +poetical images are equally out of place in a calm philosophical view of +human society. Some must marry, that the world may be peopled: many must +abstain, that it may not be overstocked. _Little and good_ is very +applicable in this case. It is better that the world should have a +smaller number of peaceable and rational inhabitants, living in +universal harmony and social intercourse, than the disproportionate mass +of fools, slaves, coxcombs, thieves, rascals, liars, and cutthroats, +with which its surface is at present encumbered. It is in vain to +declaim about the preponderance of physical and moral evil, and +attribute it, with the Manicheans, to a mythological principle, or, with +some modern philosophers, to the physical constitution of the globe. The +cause of all the evils of human society is single, obvious, reducible to +the most exact mathematical calculation; and of course susceptible not +only of remedy but even of utter annihilation. The cause is the tendency +of population to increase beyond the means of subsistence. The remedy is +an universal social compact, binding both sexes to equally rigid +celibacy, till the prospect of maintaining the average number of six +children be as clear as the arithmetic of futurity can make it. + +_Mr. Forester._ The arithmetic of futurity has been found in a more than +equal number of instances to baffle human skill. The rapid and sudden +mutations of fortune are the inexhaustible theme of history, poetry, and +romance; and they are found in forms as various and surprising, in the +scenes of daily life, as on the stage of Drury Lane. + +_Mr. Fax._ That the best prospects are often overshadowed, is most +certainly true; but there are degrees and modes of well-grounded +reliance on futurity, sufficient to justify the enterprises of prudence, +and equally well-grounded prospiciences of hopelessness and +helplessness, that should check the steps of rashness and passion, in +their headlong progress to perdition. + +_Mr. Forester._ You have little cause to complain of the present age. It +is calculating enough to gratify the most determined votary of moral and +political arithmetic. This certainly is not the time + + When unrevenged stalks Cocker’s injured ghost. + +What is friendship—except in some most rare and miraculous instances—but +the fictitious bond of interest, or the heartless intercourse of +idleness and vanity? What is love, but the most venal of all venal +commodities? What is marriage, but the most sordid of bargains, the most +cold and slavish of all the forms of commerce? We want no philosophical +ice-rock, towed into the Dead Sea of modern society, to freeze that +which is too cold already. We want rather the torch of Prometheus to +revivify our frozen spirits. We are a degenerate race, half-reasoning +developments of the principle of infinite littleness, ‘with hearts in +our bodies no bigger than pins’ heads.’ We are in no danger of +forgetting that two and two make four. There is no fear that the warm +impulses of feeling will ever overpower, with us, the tangible eloquence +of the pocket. + +_Mr. Fax._ With relation to the middle and higher classes, you are right +in a great measure as to fact, but wrong, as I think, in the asperity of +your censure. But among the lower orders the case is quite different. +The baleful influence of the poor laws has utterly destroyed the +principle of calculation in them. They marry by wholesale, without +scruple or compunction, and commit the future care of their family to +Providence and the overseer. They marry even in the workhouse, and +convert the intended asylum of age and infirmity into a flourishing +manufactory of young beggars and vagabonds. + +Sir Telegraph’s barouche rolled up gracefully to the door. Mr. Forester +pressed him to stay another day, but Sir Telegraph’s plea of urgency was +not to be overcome. He promised very shortly to revisit Redrose Abbey, +shook hands with Mr. Forester and Sir Oran, bowed politely to Mr. Fax, +mounted his box, and disappeared among the trees. + +‘Those four horses,’ said Mr. Fax, as the carriage rolled away, ‘consume +the subsistence of eight human beings, for the foolish amusement of one. +As Solomon observes: “This is vanity, and a great evil.”’ + +‘Sir Telegraph is thoughtless,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘but he has a good +heart and a good natural capacity. I have great hopes of him. He had +some learning, when he went to college; but he was cured of it before he +came away. Great, indeed, must be the zeal for improvement which an +academical education cannot extinguish.’ + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY + + +Sir Telegraph was welcomed to Melincourt in due form by Mr. Hippy, and +in a private interview with the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney, was exhorted +to persevere in his suit to Anthelia, though she could not flatter him +with very strong hopes of immediate success, the young lady’s notions +being, as she observed, extremely outré and fantastical, but such as she +had no doubt time and experience would cure. She informed him at the +same time, that he would shortly meet a formidable rival, no less a +personage than Lord Anophel Achthar,[26] son and heir of the Marquis of +Agaric[27] who was somewhat in favour with Mr. Hippy, and seemed +determined at all hazards to carry his point; ‘and with any other girl +than Anthelia,’ said Mrs. Pinmoney, ‘considering his title and fortune, +I should pronounce his success infallible, unless a duke were to make +his appearance.’ She added, ‘The young lord would be accompanied by his +tutor, the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, and by a celebrated poet, Mr. +Feathernest, to whom the Marquis had recently given a place in exchange +for his conscience. It was thought by Mr. Feathernest’s friends that he +had made a very good bargain. The poet had, in consequence, burned his +old _Odes to Truth and Liberty_, and had published a volume of +Panegyrical Addresses “to all the crowned heads in Europe,” with the +motto, “Whatever is at court, is right.”’ + +The dinner-party that day at Melincourt Castle consisted of Mr. Hippy, +in the character of lord of the mansion; Anthelia, in that of his +inmate; Mrs. and Miss Pinmoney, as her visitors; and Sir Telegraph, as +the visitor of Mrs. Pinmoney, seconded by Mr. Hippy’s invitation to +stay. Nothing very luminous passed on this occasion. + +The fame of Mr. Hippy, and his hospitable office, was rapidly diffused +by Dr. Killquick, the physician of the district; who thought a draught +or pill could not possibly be efficacious, unless administered with an +anecdote, and who was called in, in a very few hours after Mr. Hippy’s +arrival, to cure the hypochondriacal old gentleman of an imaginary +swelling in his elbow. The learned doctor, who had studied with peculiar +care the symptoms, diagnostics, prognostics, sedatives, lenitives, and +sanatives of hypochondriasis, had arrived at the sagacious conclusion +that the most effectual method of curing an imaginary disease was to +give the patient a real one; and he accordingly sent Mr. Hippy a pint +bottle of mixture, to be taken by a tablespoonful every two hours, which +would have infallibly accomplished the purpose, but that the bottle was +cracked over the head of Harry Fell, for treading on his master’s toe, +as he presented the composing potion, which would perhaps have composed +him in the Roman sense. + +The fashionable attractions of Low-Wood and Keswick afforded facilities +to some of Anthelia’s lovers to effect a _logement_ in her +neighbourhood, from whence occasionally riding over to Melincourt +Castle, they were hospitably received by the lord seneschal, Humphrey +Hippy, Esquire, who often made them fixed stars in the circumference of +that jovial system, of which the bottle and glasses are the sun and +planets, till it was too late to dislodge for the night; by which means +they sometimes contrived to pass several days together at the Castle. + +The gentlemen in question were Lord Anophel Achthar, with his two +parasites, Mr. Feathernest and the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub; Harum +O’Scarum, Esquire, the sole proprietor of a vast tract of undrained bog +in the county of Kerry; and Mr. Derrydown, the only son of an old lady +in London, who having in vain solicited a visit from Anthelia, had sent +off her hopeful progeny to try his fortune in Westmoreland. Mr. +Derrydown had received a laborious education, and had consumed a great +quantity of midnight oil over ponderous tomes of ancient and modern +learning, particularly of moral, political, and metaphysical philosophy, +ancient and modern. His lucubrations in the latter branch of science +having conducted him, as he conceived, into the central opacity of utter +darkness, he formed a hasty conclusion ‘that all human learning is +vanity’; and one day, in a listless mood, taking down a volume of the +_Reliques of Ancient Poetry_, he found, or fancied he found, in the +plain language of the old English ballad, glimpses of the truth of +things, which he had vainly sought in the vast volumes of philosophical +disquisition. In consequence of this luminous discovery, he locked up +his library, purchased a travelling chariot, with a shelf in the back, +which he filled with collections of ballads and popular songs; and +passed the greater part of every year in posting about the country, for +the purpose, as he expressed it, of studying together poetry and the +peasantry, unsophisticated nature and the truth of things. + +Mr. Hippy introduced Lord Anophel, and his two learned friends, to Sir +Telegraph and Mrs. and Miss Pinmoney. Mr. Feathernest whispered to the +Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, ‘This Sir Telegraph Paxarett has some good +livings in his gift’; which bent the plump figure of the reverend +gentleman into a very orthodox right angle. + +Anthelia, who felt no inclination to show particular favour to any one +of her Strephons, was not sorry to escape the evil of a solitary +persecutor, more especially as they so far resembled the suitors of +Penelope, as to eat and drink together with great cordiality. She could +have wished, when she left them to the congenial society of Bacchus, to +have retired to company more congenial to her than that of Mrs. Pinmoney +and Miss Danaretta; but she submitted to the course of necessity with +the best possible grace. + +She explicitly made known to all her suitors her ideas on the subject of +marriage. She had never perverted the simplicity of her mind by +indulging in the usual cant of young ladies, that she should prefer a +single life: but she assured them that the spirit of the age of +chivalry, manifested in the forms of modern life, would constitute the +only character on which she could fix her affections. + +Lord Anophel was puzzled, and applied for information to his tutor. +‘Grovelgrub,’ said he, ‘what is the spirit of the age of chivalry?’ + +‘Really, my lord,’ said the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, ‘my studies never +lay that way.’ + +‘True,’ said Lord Anophel; ‘it was not necessary to your degree.’ + +His lordship’s next recourse was to Mr. Feathernest. ‘Feathernest, what +is the spirit of the age of chivalry?’ + +Mr. Feathernest was taken by surprise. Since his profitable +metamorphosis into an _ami du prince_, he had never dreamed of such a +question. It burst upon him like the spectre of his youthful integrity, +and he mumbled a half-intelligible reply about truth and +liberty—disinterested benevolence—self-oblivion—heroic devotion to love +and honour—protection of the feeble, and subversion of tyranny. + +‘All the ingredients of a rank Jacobin, Feathernest, ‘pon honour!’ +exclaimed his lordship. + +There was something in the word Jacobin very grating to the ears of Mr. +Feathernest, and he feared he had thrown himself between the horns of a +dilemma; but from all such predicament he was happily provided with an +infallible means of extrication. His friend Mr. Mystic, of Cimmerian +Lodge, had initiated him in some of the mysteries of the transcendental +philosophy, which on this, as all similar occasions, he called in to his +assistance; and overwhelmed his lordship with a volley of ponderous +jargon, which left him in profound astonishment at the depth of Mr. +Feathernest’s knowledge. + +‘The spirit of the age of chivalry!’ soliloquised Mr. O’Scarum; ‘I think +I know what that is: I’ll shoot all my rivals, one after another, as +fast as I can find a decent pretext for picking a quarrel. I’ll write to +my friend Major O’Dogskin to come to Low-Wood Inn, and hold himself in +readiness. He is the neatest hand in Ireland at delivering a challenge.’ + +‘The spirit of the age of chivalry!’ soliloquised Mr. Derrydown; ‘I +think I am at home there. I will be a knight of the round table. I will +be Sir Lancelot, or Sir Gawaine, or Sir Tristram. No: I will be a +troubadour—a love-lorn minstrel. I will write the most irresistible +ballads in praise of the beautiful Anthelia. She shall be my lady of the +lake. We will sail about Ulleswater in our pinnace, and sing duets about +Merlin, and King Arthur, and Fairyland. I will develop the idea to her +in a ballad; it cannot fail to fascinate her romantic spirit.’ And he +sat down to put his scheme in execution. + +Sir Telegraph’s head ran on tilts and tournaments, and trials of skill +and courage. How could they be resolved into the forms of modern life? A +four-in-hand race he thought would be a pretty substitute; Anthelia to +be arbitress of the contest, and place the Olympic wreath on the head of +the victor, which he had no doubt would be himself, though Harum +O’Scarum, Esquire, would dash through neck or nothing, and Lord Anophel +Achthar was reckoned one of the best coachmen in England. + + + + + CHAPTER IX + THE PHILOSOPHY OF BALLADS + + +The very indifferent success of Lord Anophel did not escape the eye of +his abject slave, the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, whose vanity led him to +misinterpret Anthelia’s general sweetness of manner into the +manifestation of something like a predilection for himself. Having made +this notable discovery, he sat down to calculate the probability of his +chance of Miss Melincourt’s fortune on the one hand, and the certainty +of church-preferment, through the patronage of the Marquis of Agaric, on +the other. The sagacious reflection, that a bird in the hand was worth +two in the bush, determined him not to risk the loss of the Marquis’s +favour for the open pursuit of a doubtful success; but he resolved to +carry on a secret attack on the affections of Anthelia, and not to throw +off the mask to Lord Anophel till he could make sure of his prize. + +It would have totally disconcerted the schemes of the Honourable Mrs. +Pinmoney, if Lord Anophel had made any progress in the favour of +Anthelia—not only because she had made up her mind that her young friend +should be her niece and Lady Paxarett, but because, from the moment of +Lord Anophel’s appearance, she determined on drawing lines of +circumvallation round him, to compel him to surrender at discretion to +her dear Danaretta, who was very willing to second her views. That Lord +Anophel was both a fool and a coxcomb, did not strike her at all as an +objection; on the contrary, she considered them as very favourable +circumstances for the facilitation of her design. + +As Anthelia usually passed the morning in the seclusion of her library +Lord Anophel and the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub killed the time in +shooting; Sir Telegraph, in driving Mrs. and Miss Pinmoney in his +barouche, to astonish the natives of the mountain-villages; Harum +O’Scarum, Esquire, in riding full gallop along the best roads, looking +every now and then at his watch, to see how time went; Mr. Derrydown, in +composing his troubadour ballad; Mr. Feathernest, in writing odes to all +the crowned heads in Europe; and Mr. Hippy, in getting very ill after +breakfast every day of a new disease, which came to its climax at the +intermediate point of time between breakfast and dinner, showed symptoms +of great amendment at the ringing of the first dinner-bell, was very +much alleviated at the butler’s summons, vanished entirely at the sight +of Anthelia, and was consigned to utter oblivion after the ladies +retired from table, when the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub lent his clerical +assistance to lay its ghost in the Red Sea of a copious libation of +claret. + +Music and conversation consumed the evenings. Mr. Feathernest and Mr. +Derrydown were both zealous admirers of old English literature; but the +former was chiefly enraptured with the ecclesiastical writers and the +translation of the Bible; the latter admired nothing but ballads, which +he maintained to be, whether ancient or modern, the only manifestations +of feeling and thought containing any vestige of truth and nature. + +‘Surely,’ said Mr. Feathernest one evening, ‘you will not maintain that +Chevy Chase is a finer poem than Paradise Lost?’ + +_Mr. Derrydown._ I do not know what you mean by a fine poem; but I will +maintain that it gives a much deeper insight into the truth of things. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ I do not know what you mean by the truth of things. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ Define, gentlemen, define; let the one +explain what he means by a fine poem, and the other what he means by the +truth of things. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ A fine poem is a luminous development of the +complicated machinery of action and passion, exalted by sublimity, +softened by pathos, irradiated with scenes of magnificence, figures of +loveliness, and characters of energy, and harmonised with infinite +variety of melodious combination. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Admirable! + +_Miss Danaretta Contantina Pinmoney._ Admirable, indeed, my lord! (_With +a sweet smile at his Lordship, which unluckily missed fire._) + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ Now, sir, for the truth of things. + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ Troth, sir, that is the last point about which I should +expect a gentleman of your cloth to be very solicitous. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ I must say, sir, that is a very uncalled-for +and very illiberal observation. + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ Your coat is your protection, sir. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ I will appeal to his lordship if—— + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ I shall be glad to know his lordship’s opinion. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Really, sir, I have no opinion on the subject. + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ I am sorry for it, my lord. + +_Mr. Derrydown._ The truth of things is nothing more than an exact view +of the necessary relations between object and subject, in all the modes +of reflection and sentiment which constitute the reciprocities of human +association. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ I must confess I do not exactly comprehend—— + +_Mr. Derrydown._ I will illustrate. You all know the ballad of Old Robin +Gray. + + Young Jamie loved me well, and ask’d me for his bride; + But saving a crown, he had nothing else beside. + To make the crown a pound my Jamie went to sea, + And the crown and the pound they were both for me. + + He had not been gone a twelvemonth and a day, + When my father broke his arm, and our cow was stolen away; + My mother she fell sick, and Jamie at the sea, + And old Robin Gray came a-courting to me. + +In consequence whereof, as you all very well know, old Robin being rich, +the damsel married the aforesaid old Robin. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ In the heterodox kirk of the north? + +_Mr. Derrydown._ Precisely. Now, in this short space, you have a more +profound view than the deepest metaphysical treatise or the most +elaborate history can give you of the counteracting power of opposite +affections, the conflict of duties and inclinations, the omnipotence of +interest, tried by the test of extremity, and the supreme and +irresistible dominion of universal moral necessity. + + Young Jamie loved me well, and ask’d me for his bride; + +and would have had her, it is clear, though she does not explicitly say +so, if there had not been a necessary moral motive counteracting what +would have been otherwise the plain free will of both. ‘Young Jamie +loved me well.’ She does not say that she loved young Jamie; and here is +a striking illustration of that female decorum which forbids young +ladies to speak as they think on any subject whatever: an admirable +political institution, which has been found by experience to be most +happily conducive to that ingenuousness of mind and simplicity of manner +which constitute so striking a charm in the generality of the fair sex. + + But saving a crown, he had nothing else beside. + +Here is the quintessence of all that has been said and written on the +subject of love and prudence, a decisive refutation of the stoical +doctrine that poverty is no evil, a very clear and deep insight into the +nature of the preventive or prudential check to population, and a +particularly luminous view of the respective conduct of the two sexes on +similar occasions. The poor love-stricken swain, it seems, is ready to +sacrifice all for love. He comes with a crown in his pocket, and asks +for his bride. The damsel is a better arithmetician. She is fully +impressed with the truth of the old proverb about poverty coming in at +the door, and immediately stops him short with ‘What can you settle on +me, Master Jamie?’ or, as Captain Bobadil would express it, ‘How much +money ha’ you about you, Master Matthew?’ Poor Jamie looks very +foolish—fumbles in his pocket—produces his crown-piece—and answers like +Master Matthew with a remarkable elongation of visage, ‘’Faith, I ha’n’t +past a five shillings or so.’ ‘Then,’ says the young lady, in the words +of another very admirable ballad—where you will observe it is also the +damsel who asks the question: + + Will the love that you’re so rich in, + Make a fire in the kitchen? + +[Illustration: _Anthelia._] + +On which the poor lover shakes his head, and the lady gives him leave of +absence. Hereupon Jamie falls into a train of reflections. + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ Never mind his reflections. + +_Mr. Derrydown._ The result of which is, that he goes to seek his +fortune at sea; intending, with the most perfect and disinterested +affection, to give all he can get to his mistress, who seems much +pleased with the idea of having it. But when he comes back, as you will +see in the sequel, he finds his mistress married to a rich old man. The +detail of the circumstances abounds with vast and luminous views of +human nature and society, and striking illustrations of the truth of +things. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ I do not yet see that the illustration throws any +light on the definition, or that we are at all advanced in the answer to +the question concerning Chevy Chase and Paradise Lost. + +_Mr. Derrydown._ We will examine Chevy Chase, then, with a view to the +truth of things, instead of Old Robin Gray: + + God prosper long our noble king, + Our lives and safeties all. + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ God prosper us all, indeed! if you are going through +Chevy Chase at the same rate as you were through Old Robin Gray, there +is an end of us all for a month. The truth of things, now!—is it that +you’re looking for? Ask Miss Melincourt to touch the harp. The harp is +the great key to the truth of things: and in the hand of Miss Melincourt +it will teach you the music of the spheres, the concord of creation, and +the harmony of the universe. + +_Anthelia._ You are a libeller of our sex, Mr. Derrydown, if you think +the truth of things consists in showing it to be more governed by the +meanest species of self-interest than yours. Few, indeed, are the +individuals of either in whom the spirit of the age of chivalry +survives. + +_Mr. Derrydown._ And yet, a man distinguished by that spirit would not +be in society what Miss Melincourt is—a phoenix. Many knights can wield +the sword of Orlando, but only one nymph can wear the girdle of +Florimel. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ That would be a very pretty compliment, Mr. +Derrydown, if there were no other ladies in the room. + +Poor Mr. Derrydown looked a little disconcerted: he felt conscious that +he had on this occasion lost sight of his usual politeness by too close +an adherence to the truth of things. + +_Anthelia._ Both sexes, I am afraid, are too much influenced by the +spirit of mercenary calculation. The desire of competence is prudence; +but the desire of more than competence is avarice: it is against the +latter only that moral censure should be directed: but I fear that in +ninety-nine cases out of a hundred in which the course of true love is +thwarted by considerations of fortune, it will be found that avarice +rather than prudence is to be considered as the cause. Love in the age +of chivalry, and love in the age of commerce, are certainly two very +different deities; so much so, that the former may almost be regarded as +a departed power; and, perhaps, the little ballad I am about to sing +does not contain too severe an allegory in placing the tomb of chivalric +love among the ruins of the castles of romance. + + THE TOMB OF LOVE + + By the mossy weed-flower’d column, + Where the setting moonbeam’s glance + Streams a radiance cold and solemn + On the haunts of old romance: + Know’st thou what those shafts betoken, + Scatter’d on that tablet lone, + Where the ivory bow lies broken + By the monumental stone! + + When true knighthood’s shield, neglected, + Moulder’d in the empty hall; + When the charms that shield protected + Slept in death’s eternal thrall; + When chivalric glory perish’d + Like the pageant of a dream, + Love in vain its memory cherish’d, + Fired in vain the minstrel’s theme. + + Falsehood to an elfish minion + Did the form of Love impart; + Cunning plumed its vampire pinion; + Avarice tipp’d its golden dart. + Love, the hideous phantom flying, + Hither came, no more to rove: + There his broken bow is lying + On that stone—the tomb of Love! + + + + + CHAPTER X + THE TORRENT + + +Anthelia did not wish to condemn herself to celibacy, but in none of her +present suitors could she discover any trace of the character she had +drawn in her mind for the companion of her life: yet she was aware of +the rashness of precipitate judgments, and willing to avail herself of +this opportunity of studying the kind of beings that constitute modern +society. She was happy in the long interval between breakfast and +dinner, to retire to the seclusion of her favourite apartment; whence +she sometimes wandered into the shades of her shrubbery: sometimes +passing onward through a little postern door, she descended a flight of +rugged steps, which had been cut in the solid stone, into the gloomy +glen of the torrent that dashed round the base of the castle-rock; and +following a lonely path through the woods that fringed its sides, +wandered into the deepest recesses of mountain solitude. The sunshine of +a fine autumnal day, the solemn beauty of the fading woods, the thin +gray mist, that spread waveless over the mountains, the silence of the +air, the deep stillness of nature, broken only by the sound of the +eternal streams, tempted her on one occasion beyond her usual limits. + +Passing over the steep and wood-fringed hills of rock that formed the +boundary of the valley of Melincourt, she descended through a grove of +pines into a romantic chasm, where a foaming stream was crossed by a +rude and ancient bridge, consisting of two distinct parts, each of which +rested against a columnar rock, that formed an island in the roaring +waters. An ash had fixed its roots in the fissures of the rock, and the +knotted base of its aged trunk offered to the passenger a natural seat, +over-canopied with its beautiful branches and leaves, now tinged with +their autumnal yellow. Anthelia rested awhile in this delightful +solitude. There was no breath of wind, no song of birds, no humming of +insects, only the dashing of the waters beneath. She felt the presence +of the genius of the scene. She sat absorbed in a train of +contemplations, dimly defined, but infinitely delightful: emotions +rather than thoughts, which attention would have utterly dissipated, if +it had paused to seize their images. + +She was roused from her reverie by sounds of music, issuing from the +grove of pines through which she had just passed, and which skirted the +hollow. The notes were wild and irregular, but their effect was singular +and pleasing. They ceased. Anthelia looked to the spot from whence they +had proceeded, and saw, or thought she saw, a face peeping at her +through the trees; but the glimpse was momentary. There was in the +expression of the countenance something so extraordinary, that she +almost felt convinced her imagination had created it; yet her +imagination was not in the habit of creating such physiognomies. She +could not, however, apprehend that this remarkable vision portended any +evil to her; for, if so, alone and defenceless as she was, why should it +be deferred? She rose, therefore, to pursue her walk, and ascended, by a +narrow winding path, the brow of a lofty hill, which sank precipitously +on the other side, to the margin of a lake, that seemed to slumber in +the same eternal stillness as the rocks that bordered it. The murmur of +the torrent was inaudible at that elevation. There was an almost +oppressive silence in the air. The motion and life of nature seemed +suspended. The gray mist that hung on the mountains, spreading its thin +transparent uniform veil over the whole surrounding scene, gave a deeper +impression to the mystery of loneliness, the predominant feeling that +pressed on the mind of Anthelia, to seem the only thing that lived and +moved in all that wide and awful scene of beauty. + +[Illustration: _Proceeded very deliberately to pull up a pine._] + +Suddenly the gray mist fled before the rising wind, and a deep black +line of clouds appeared in the west, that, rising rapidly, volume on +volume, obscured in a few minutes the whole face of the heavens. There +was no interval of preparation, no notice for retreat. The rain burst +down in a sheeted cataract, comparable only to the bursting of a +waterspout. The sides of the mountains gleamed at once with a thousand +torrents. Every little hollow and rain-worn channel, which but a few +minutes before was dry, became instantaneously the bed of a foaming +stream. Every half-visible rivulet swelled to a powerful and turbid +river. Anthelia glided down the hill like an Oread, but the wet and +slippery footing of the steep descent necessarily retarded her progress. +When she regained the bridge, the swollen torrent had filled the chasm +beneath, and was still rising like a rapid and impetuous tide, rushing +and roaring along with boiling tumult and inconceivable swiftness. She +had passed one half of the bridge—she had gained the insular rock—a few +steps would have placed her on the other side of the chasm—when a large +trunk of an oak, which months, perhaps years, before had baffled the +woodman’s skill, and fallen into the dingle above, now disengaged by the +flood, and hurled onward with irresistible strength, with large and +projecting boughs towering high above the surface, struck the arch she +had yet to pass, which, shattered into instant ruin, seemed to melt like +snow into the torrent, leaving scarcely a vestige of its place. + +Anthelia followed the trunk with her eyes till it disappeared among the +rocks, and stood gazing on the torrent with feelings of awful delight. +The contemplation of the mighty energies of nature, energies of liberty +and power which nothing could resist or impede, absorbed, for a time, +all considerations of the difficulty of regaining her home. The water +continued to rise, but still she stood riveted to the spot, watching +with breathless interest its tumultuous revolutions. She dreamed not +that its increasing pressure was mining the foundation of the arch she +had passed. She was roused from her reverie only by the sound of its +dissolution. She looked back, and found herself on the solitary rock +insulated by the swelling flood. + +Would the flood rise above the level of the rock? The ash must in that +case be her refuge. Could the force of the torrent rend its massy roots +from the rocky fissures which grasped them with giant strength? Nothing +could seem less likely: yet it was not impossible. But she had always +looked with calmness on the course of necessity: she felt that she was +always in the order of nature. Though her life had been a series of +uniform prosperity, she had considered deeply the changes of things, and +_the nearness of the paths of night and day_[28] in every pursuit and +circumstance of human life. She sat on the stem of the ash. The torrent +rolled almost at her feet. Could this be the calm sweet scene of the +morning, the ivied bridges, the romantic chasm, the stream far below, +bright in its bed of rocks, chequered by the pale sunbeams through the +leaves of the ash? + +She looked towards the pine-grove, through which she had descended in +the morning; she thought of the wild music she had heard, and of the +strange face that had appeared among the trees. Suddenly it appeared +again: and shortly after a stranger issuing from the wood ran with +surprising speed to the edge of the chasm. + +Anthelia had never seen so singular a physiognomy; but there was nothing +in it to cause alarm. The stranger seemed interested for her situation, +and made gestures expressive of a design to assist her. He paused a +moment, as if measuring with his eyes the breadth of the chasm, and +then, returning to the grove, proceeded very deliberately to pull up a +pine.[29] Anthelia thought him mad; but infinite was her astonishment to +see the tree sway and bend beneath the efforts of his incredible +strength, till at length he tore it from the soil, and bore it on his +shoulders to the chasm: where placing one end on a high point of the +bank, and lowering the other on the insulated rock, he ran like a flash +of lightning along the stem, caught Anthelia in his arms, and carried +her safely over in an instant: not that we should wish the reader to +suppose our heroine, a mountaineer from her infancy, could not have +crossed a pine-bridge without such assistance; but the stranger gave her +no time to try the experiment. + +The remarkable physiognomy and unparalleled strength of the stranger +caused much of surprise, and something of apprehension to mingle with +Anthelia’s gratitude: but the air of high fashion which characterised +his whole deportment diminished her apprehension, while it increased her +surprise at the exploit he had performed. + +[Illustration: _Alighted on the doctor’s head as he was crossing the +court._] + +Shouts were now heard in the wood, from which shortly emerged Mr. Hippy, +Lord Anophel Achthar, and the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub. Anthelia had been +missed at Melincourt at the commencement of the storm, and Mr. Hippy had +been half distracted on the occasion. The whole party had in consequence +dispersed in various directions in search of her, and accident had +directed these three gentlemen to the spot where Anthelia was just set +down by her polite deliverer, Sir Oran Haut-ton, Baronet. + +Mr. Hippy ran up with great alacrity to Anthelia, assuring her that at +the time when Miss Danaretta Contantina Pinmoney informed him his dear +niece was missing, he was suffering under a complete paralysis of his +right leg, and was on the point of swallowing a potion sent to him by +Dr. Killquick, which, on receiving the alarming intelligence, he had +thrown out of the window, and he believed it had alighted on the +doctor’s head as he was crossing the court. Anthelia communicated to him +the particulars of the signal service she had received from the +stranger, whom Mr. Hippy stared at heartily, and shook hands with +cordially. + +Lord Anophel now came up, and surveyed Sir Oran through his +quizzing-glass, who, making him a polite bow, took his quizzing-glass +from him, and examined him through it in the same manner. Lord Anophel +flew into a furious passion; but receiving a gentle hint from Mr. Hippy, +that the gentleman to whom he was talking had just pulled up a pine, he +deemed it prudent to restrain his anger within due bounds. + +The Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub now rolled up to the party, muffled in a +ponderous greatcoat, and surmounted with an enormous umbrella, humbly +soliciting Miss Melincourt to take shelter. Anthelia assured him that +she was so completely wet through, as to render all shelter superfluous, +till she could change her clothes. On this, Mr. Hippy, who was wet +through himself, but had not till that moment been aware that he was so, +voted for returning to Melincourt with all possible expedition; adding +that he feared it would be necessary, immediately on their arrival, to +send off an express for Dr. Killquick, for his dear Anthelia’s sake, as +well as his own. Anthelia disclaimed any intention or necessity on her +part of calling in the services of the learned doctor, and, turning to +Sir Oran, requested the favour of his company to dinner at Melincourt. +This invitation was warmly seconded by Mr. Hippy, with gestures as well +as words. Sir Oran bowed acknowledgment, but pointing in a direction +different from that of Melincourt, shook his head, and took a respectful +farewell. + +‘I wonder who he is,’ said Mr. Hippy, as they walked rapidly homewards: +‘manifestly dumb, poor fellow! a man of consequence, no doubt: no great +beauty, by the bye; but as strong as Hercules—quite an Orlando Furioso. +He pulled up a pine, my lord, as you would do a mushroom.’ + +‘Sir,’ said Lord Anophel, ‘I have nothing to do with mushrooms; and as +to this gentleman, whoever he is, I must say, notwithstanding his +fashionable air, his taking my quizzing-glass was a piece of +impertinence, for which I shall feel necessitated to require gentlemanly +satisfaction.’ + +A long, toilsome, and slippery walk brought the party to the castle +gate. + + + + + CHAPTER XI + LOVE AND MARRIAGE + + +Sir Oran Haut-ton, as we conjecture, had taken a very long ramble beyond +the limits of Redrose Abbey, and had sat down in the pine-grove to +solace himself with his flute, when Anthelia, bursting upon him like a +beautiful vision, riveted him in silent admiration to the spot whence +she departed, about which he lingered in hopes of her reappearance, till +the accident which occurred on her return enabled him to exert his +extraordinary physical strength in a manner so remarkably advantageous +to her. On parting from her and her companions, he ran back all the way +to the Abbey, a formidable distance, and relieved the anxious +apprehensions which his friend Mr. Forester entertained respecting him. + +A few mornings after this occurrence, as Mr. Forester, Mr. Fax, and Sir +Oran were sitting at breakfast, a letter was brought in, addressed to +_Sir Oran Haut-ton, Baronet, Redrose Abbey_; a circumstance which very +much surprised Mr. Forester, as he could not imagine how Sir Oran had +obtained a correspondent, seeing that he could neither write nor read. +He accordingly took the liberty of opening the letter himself. + +It proved to be from a limb of the law, signing himself Richard +Ratstail, and purporting to be a notice to Sir Oran to defend himself in +an action brought against him by the said Richard Ratstail, solicitor, +in behalf of his client, Lawrence Litigate, Esquire, lord of the manor +of Muckwormsby, for that he, the said Oran Haut-ton, did, with force and +arms, videlicet, sword, pistols, daggers, bludgeons, and staves, break +into the manor of the said Lawrence Litigate, Esquire, and did then and +there, with malice aforethought, and against the peace of our sovereign +lord the King, his crown and dignity, cut down, root up, hew, hack, and +cut in pieces, sundry and several pine-trees, of various sizes and +dimensions, to the utter ruin, havoc, waste, and devastation of a large +tract of pine-land; and that he had wilfully, maliciously, and with +intent to injure the said Lawrence Litigate, Esquire, carried off with +force and arms, namely, swords, pistols, bludgeons, daggers, and staves, +fifty cartloads of trunks, fifty cartloads of bark, fifty cartloads of +loppings, and fifty cartloads of toppings. + +This was a complete enigma to Mr. Forester; and his surprise was +increased when, on reading further, he found that Miss Melincourt, of +Melincourt Castle, was implicated in the affair, as having aided and +abetted Sir Oran in devastating the pine-grove, and carrying it off by +cartloads with force and arms. + +It immediately occurred to him that the best mode he could adopt of +elucidating the mystery would be to call on Miss Melincourt, whom, +besides, Sir Telegraph’s enthusiastic description had given him some +curiosity to see; and the present appeared a favourable opportunity to +indulge it. + +He therefore asked Mr. Fax if he were disposed for a very long walk. Mr. +Fax expressed a cordial assent to the proposal, and no time was lost in +preparation. + +Mr. Forester, though he had built stables for the accommodation of his +occasional visitors, kept no horses himself, for reasons which will +appear hereafter. + +They set forth accordingly, accompanied by Sir Oran, who joined them +without waiting for an invitation. + +‘We shall see Sir Telegraph Paxarett,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘and, perhaps, +his phoenix, Miss Melincourt.’ + +_Mr. Fax._ If a woman be the object, and a lover’s eyes the medium, I +should say there is nothing in nature so easily found as a phoenix. + +_Mr. Forester._ My eyes have no such magical property. I am not a lover, +it is true, but it is because I have never found a phoenix. + +_Mr. Fax._ But you have one in your mind, a _beau ideal_, I doubt not. + +_Mr. Forester._ Not too ideal to exclude the possible existence of its +material archetype, though I have never found it yet. + +_Mr. Fax._ You will, however, find a female who has some one at least of +the qualities of your imaginary damsel, and that one quality will serve +as a peg on which your imagination will suspend all the others. This is +the usual process of mental hallucination. A little truth forms the +basis, and the whole superstructure is falsehood. + +_Mr. Forester._ I shall guard carefully against such self-deception; +though, perhaps, a beautiful chimera is better than either a hideous +reality or a vast and formless void. + +_Mr. Fax._ As an instrument of transitory pleasure, probably; but very +far from it as a means of permanent happiness, which is only consistent +with perfect mental tranquillity, which again is only consistent with +the calm and dispassionate contemplation of truth. + +_Mr. Forester._ What say you, then, to the sentiment of Voltaire?— + + Le raisonneur tristement s’accrédite: + On court, dit-on, après la vérité, + Ah! croyez-moi, l’erreur a son mérite. + +_Mr. Fax._ You will scarcely coincide with such a sentiment, when you +consider how much this doctrine of happy errors, and pleasing illusions, +and salutary prejudices, has tended to rivet the chains of superstition +on the necks of the grovelling multitude. + +_Mr. Forester._ And yet, if you take the colouring of imagination from +the objects of our mental perception, and pour the full blaze of +daylight into all the dark recesses of selfishness and cunning, I am +afraid a refined and enthusiastic benevolence will find little to +interest or delight in the contemplation of the human world. + +_Mr. Fax._ That should rather be considered the consequence of morbid +feelings, and exaggerated expectations of society and human nature. It +is the false colouring in which youthful enthusiasm depicts the scenes +of futurity that throws the gloom of disappointment so deeply on their +actual presence. You have formed to yourself, as you acknowledge, a +visionary model of female perfection, which has rendered you utterly +insensible to the real attractions of every woman you have seen. This +exaggerated imagination loses more than it gains. It has not made a fair +calculation of the mixture of good and evil in every constituent portion +of the world of reality. It has utterly excluded the latter from the +objects of its hope, and has magnified the former into such gigantic +proportions, that the real goodness and beauty, which would be visible +and delightful to simpler optics, vanish into imperceptibility in the +infinity of their diminution. + +_Mr. Forester._ I desire no phantasm of abstract perfection—no visionary +creation of a romantic philosophy: I seek no more than I know to have +existed—than, I doubt not, does exist, though in such lamentable rarity +that the calculations of probability make the search little better than +desperate. I would have a woman that can love and feel poetry, not only +in its harmony and decorations, which limit the admiration of ordinary +mortals, but in the deep sources of love, and liberty, and truth, which +are its only legitimate springs, and without which, well-turned periods +and glittering images are nothing more nor less than the vilest and most +mischievous tinsel. She should be musical, but she should have music in +her soul as well as her fingers: her voice and her touch should have no +one point in common with that mechanical squalling and jingling which +are commonly dignified with the insulted name of music: they should be +modes of the harmony of her mind. + +_Mr. Fax._ I do not very well understand that; but I think I have a +glimpse of your meaning. Pray proceed. + +_Mr. Forester._ She should have charity—not penny charity—— + +_Mr. Fax._ I hope not. + +_Mr. Forester._ But a liberal discriminating practical philanthropy, +that can select with justice the objects of its kindness, and give that +kindness a form of permanence equally delightful and useful to its +object and to society, by increasing the aggregate mass of intelligence +and happiness. + +_Mr. Fax._ Go on. + +_Mr. Forester._ She should have no taste for what are called public +pleasures. Her pleasures should be bounded in the circle of her family, +and a few, a very few congenial friends, her books, her music, her +flowers—she should delight in flowers—the uninterrupted cheerfulness of +domestic concord, the delightful effusions of unlimited confidence. The +rocks, and woods, and mountains, boundaries of the valley of her +dwelling, she should be content to look on as the boundaries of the +world. + +_Mr. Fax._ Anything more? + +_Mr. Forester._ She should have a clear perception of the beauty of +truth. Every species of falsehood, even in sportiveness, should be +abhorrent to her. The simplicity of her thoughts should shine through +the ingenuousness of her words. Her testimony should convey as +irresistible conviction as the voice of the personified nature of +things. And this ingenuousness should comprise, in its fullest extent, +that perfect conformity of feelings and opinions which ought to be the +most common, but is unfortunately the most rare, of the qualities of the +female mind. + +_Mr. Fax._ You say nothing of beauty. + +_Mr. Forester._ As to what is usually called beauty, mere symmetry of +form and features, it would be an object with me in purchasing a statue, +but none whatever in choosing a wife. Let her countenance be the mirror +of such qualities as I have described, and she cannot be otherwise than +beautiful. I think with the Athenians, that beauty and goodness are +inseparable. I need not remind you of the perpetual καλος κἀγαθος. + +_Mr. Fax._ You have said nothing of the principal, and, indeed, almost +the only usual consideration in marriage—fortune. + +_Mr. Forester._ I am rich enough myself to dispense with such +considerations. Even were I not so, I doubt if worldly wisdom would ever +influence me to bend my knee with the multitude at the shrine of the +omnipotence of money. Nothing is more uncertain, more transient, more +perishable, than riches. How many prudent marriages of interest and +convenience were broken to atoms by the French revolution! Do you think +there was one couple, among all those calculating characters, that acted +in those trying times like Louvet and his Lodoiska?[30] But without +looking to periods of public convulsion, in no state of society is any +individual secure against the changes of fortune. What becomes of those +ill-assorted unions, which have no basis but money, when, as is very +often the case, the money departs, and the persons remain? The qualities +of the heart and of the mind are alone out of the power of accident; and +by these, and these only, shall I be guided in the choice of the +companion of my life. + +_Mr. Fax._ Are there no other indispensable qualities that you have +omitted in your enumeration? + +_Mr. Forester._ None, I think, but such as are implied in those I have +mentioned, and must necessarily be co-existent with them; an endearing +sensibility, an agreeable cheerfulness, and that serenity of temper +which is truly the balm of being, and the absence of which, in the +intercourse of domestic life, obliterates all the radiance of beauty, +all the splendour of talent, and all the dignity of virtue. + +_Mr. Fax._ I presume, then, you seriously purpose to marry, when you can +find such a woman as this you have described? + +_Mr. Forester._ Seriously I do. + +_Mr. Fax._ And not till then? + +_Mr. Forester._ Certainly not. + +_Mr. Fax._ Then your present heir presumptive has nothing to fear for +his reversion. + + + + + CHAPTER XII + LOVE AND POVERTY + + +‘We shall presently,’ said Mr. Fax, as they pursued their walk, ‘come in +sight of a cottage, which I remarked two years ago: a deplorable +habitation! A picture of its exterior and interior suspended in some +public place, in every town in the kingdom, with a brief commentary +subjoined, would operate _in terrorem_ in favour of the best interests +of political economy, by placing before the eyes of the rising +generation the lamentable consequences of imprudent marriage, and the +necessary result of attachment, of which romance is the foundation and +marriage the superstructure, without the only cement which will make it +wind and water tight—money.’ + +_Mr. Forester._ Nothing but money! The resemblance Fluellen found +between Macedon and Monmouth, because both began with an M, holds +equally true of money and marriage: but there seems to be a much +stronger connection in the latter case; for marriage is but a body, of +which money is the soul. + +_Mr. Fax._ It is so. It must be so. The constitution of society +imperiously commands it to be so. The world of reality is not the world +of romance. When a lover talks of lips of coral, teeth of pearl, tresses +of gold, and eyes of diamonds, he knows all the while that he is lying +by wholesale; and that no baker in England would give him credit for a +penny roll on all this display of his Utopian treasury. All the aerial +castles that are founded in the contempt of worldly prudence have not +half the solidity of the cloud-built towers that surround the setting of +the autumnal sun. + +_Mr. Forester._ I maintain, on the contrary, that, _let all possible +calamities be accumulated on two affectionate and congenial spirits, +they will find more true happiness in weeping together than they would +have found in all the riches of the world, poisoned by the disunion of +hearts_.[31] + +_Mr. Fax._ The disunion of hearts is an evil of another kind. It is not +a comparison of evils I wish to institute. That two rich people fettered +by the indissoluble bond of marriage, and hating each other cordially, +are two as miserable animals as any on the face of the earth, is +certain; but that two poor ones, let them love each other ever so +fondly, starving together in a garret, are therefore in a less +positively wretched condition, is an inference which no logic, I think, +can deduce. For the picture you must draw in your mind’s eye is not that +of a neatly-dressed, young, healthy-looking couple, weeping in each +other’s arms in a clean, however homely cottage, in a fit of tender +sympathy; but you must surround them with all the squalid accompaniments +of poverty, rags, and famine, the contempt of the world, the dereliction +of friends, half a dozen hungry squalling children, all clothed perhaps +in the cutting up of an old blanket, duns in presence, bailiffs in +prospect, and the long perspective of hopelessness closed by the +workhouse or the gaol. + +_Mr. Forester._ You imagine an extreme case, which something more than +the original want of fortune seems requisite to produce. + +_Mr. Fax._ I have heard you declaim very bitterly against those who +maintain the necessary connection between misfortune and imprudence. + +_Mr. Forester._ Certainly. To assert that the unfortunate must +necessarily have been imprudent, is to furnish an excuse to the +cold-hearted and illiberal selfishness of a state of society, which +needs no motive superadded to its own miserable narrow-mindedness, to +produce the almost total extinction of benevolence and sympathy. Good +and evil fortune depend so much on the combination of external +circumstances, that the utmost skill and industry cannot command +success; neither is the result of the most imprudent actions always +fatal: + + Our indiscretions sometimes serve us well, + When our deep plots do pall.[32] + +_Mr. Fax._ Sometimes, no doubt; but not so often as to equalise the +probable results of indiscretion and prudence. ‘Where there is +prudence,’ says Juvenal, ‘fortune is powerless’; and this doctrine, +though liable to exceptions, is replete with general truth. We have a +nice balance to adjust. To check the benevolence of the rich, by +persuading them that all misfortune is the result of imprudence, is a +great evil; but it would be a much greater evil to persuade the poor +that indiscretion may have a happier result than prudence; for where +this appears to be true in one instance, it is manifestly false in a +thousand. It is certainly not enough to possess industry and talent; +there must be means for exerting them; and in a redundant population +these means are often wanting, even to the most skilful and the most +industrious: but though calamity sometimes seizes those who use their +best efforts to avoid her, yet she seldom disappoints the intentions of +those who leap headlong into her arms. + +_Mr. Forester._ It seems, nevertheless, peculiarly hard that all the +blessings of life should be confined to the rich. If you banish the +smiles of love from the cottage of poverty, what remains to cheer its +dreariness? The poor man has no friends, no amusements, no means of +exercising benevolence, nothing to fill up the gloomy and desolate +vacancy of his heart, if you banish love from his dwelling. ‘There is +one alone, and there is not a second,’ says one of the greatest poets +and philosophers of antiquity: ‘there is one alone, and there is not a +second: yea, he hath neither child nor brother; yet is there no end of +all his labour: ... neither saith he, For whom do I labour and bereave +my soul of good?... Two are better than one ... for if they fall, the +one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he +falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.’[33] Society in poverty +is better than solitude in wealth: but solitude and poverty together it +is scarcely in human nature to tolerate. + +_Mr. Fax._ This, if I remember rightly, is the cottage of which I was +speaking. + +The cottage was ruined and uninhabited. The roof had fallen in. The +garden was choked with weeds. ‘What,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘can have become of +its unfortunate inhabitants?’ + +_Mr. Forester._ What were they? + +_Mr. Fax._ A couple for whom nature had done much, and fortune nothing. +I took shelter in their cottage from a passing storm. The picture which +you called the imagination of an extreme case falls short of the reality +of what I witnessed here. It was the utmost degree of misery and +destitution compatible with the preservation of life. A casual observer +might have passed them by, as the most abject of the human race. But +their physiognomy showed better things. It was with the utmost +difficulty I could extract a word from either of them: but when I at +last succeeded I was astonished, in garments so mean and a dwelling so +deplorable, to discover feelings so generous and minds so enlightened. +The semblance of human sympathy seemed strange to them; little of it as +you may suppose could be discovered through my saturnine complexion, and +the habitual language of what you call my frosty philosophy. By degrees +I engaged their confidence, and he related to me his history, which I +will tell you, as nearly as I can remember, in his own words. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + DESMOND + + +My name is Desmond. My father was a naval officer, who in the prime of +life was compelled by wounds to retire from the service on his half-pay +and a small additional pension. I was his only son, and he submitted to +the greatest personal privations to procure me a liberal education, in +the hope that by these means he should live to see me making my way in +the world: but he always accompanied his wishes for this consummation +with a hope that I should consider money as a means, and not as an end, +and that I should remember the only real treasures of human existence +were truth, health, and liberty. You will not wonder that, with such +principles, the father had been twenty years a lieutenant, and that the +son was looked on at College as a fellow that would come to nothing. + +I profited little at the University, as you will easily suppose. The +system of education pursued there appeared to me the result of a +deep-laid conspiracy against the human understanding, a mighty effort of +political and ecclesiastical machiavelism, to turn the energies of +inquiring minds into channels, where they will either stagnate in +disgust, or waste themselves in nugatory labour. To discover or even to +illustrate a single moral truth, to shake the empire of a single +prejudice, to apply a single blow of the axe of philosophy to the +wide-spreading roots of superstition and political imposture, is to +render a real service to the best hopes of mankind; but all this is +diametrically opposed to the selfish interests of the hired misleaders +of society, the chosen few, as they are called, before whom the wretched +multitude grovel in the dust as before + + The children of a race, + Mightier than they, and wiser, and by heaven + Beloved and favoured more. + +Moral science, therefore, moral improvement, the doctrines of +benevolence, the amelioration of the general condition of mankind, will +not only never form a part of any public institution for the performance +of that ridiculous and mischievous farce called the _Finishing of +Education_; but every art of clerical chicanery and fraudulent +misrepresentation will be practised, to render odious the very names of +philosophy and philanthropy, and to extinguish, by ridicule and +persecution, that enthusiastic love of truth, which never fails to +conduct its votaries to conclusions very little compatible with the +views of those who have built, or intend to build, their own worldly +prosperity on the foundation of hypocrisy and servility in themselves, +and ignorance and credulity in others. + +The study of morals and of mind occupied my exclusive attention. I had +little taste for the science of lines and numbers, and still less for +verbal criticism, the pinnacle of academical glory. + +I delighted in the poets of Greece and Rome, but I thought that the +_igneus vigor et coelestis origo_ of their conceptions and expressions +was often utterly lost sight of in the microscopic inspection of +philological minutiae. I studied Greek, as the means of understanding +Homer and Aeschylus: I did not look on them as mere secondary +instruments to the attainment of a knowledge of their language. I had no +conception of the taste that could prefer Lycophron to Sophocles because +he had the singular advantage of being obscure; and should have been +utterly at a loss to account for such a phenomenon, if I had not seen +that the whole system of public education was purposely calculated to +make inferior minds recoil in disgust and terror from the vestibule of +knowledge, and superior minds consume their dangerous energies in the +_difficiles nugae_ and _labor ineptiarum_ of its adytum. + +I did not _finish_, as it is called, my college _education_. My father’s +death compelled me to leave it before the expiration of the usual +period, at the end of which the same distinction is conferred on all +capacities, by the academical noometry, not of merit but of time. I +found myself almost destitute; but I felt the consciousness of talents, +that I doubted not would amply provide for me in that great centre of +intellect and energy, London. To London I accordingly went, and became a +boarder in the humble dwelling of a widow, who maintained herself and an +only daughter by the perilous and precarious income derived from +lodgers. + +[Illustration: ‘_My dear sir, only take the trouble of sitting a few +hours in my shop._’] + +My first application was to a bookseller in Bond Street, to whom I +offered the copyright of a treatise on the Elements of Morals. ‘My dear +sir,’ said he, with an air of supercilious politeness, ‘only take the +trouble of sitting a few hours in my shop, and if you detect any one of +my customers in the act of pronouncing the word _morals_, I will give +any price you please to name for your copyright.’ But, glancing over the +manuscript, ‘I perceive,’ said he, ‘there are some smart things here; +and though they are good for nothing where they are, they would cut a +pretty figure in a Review. My friend Mr. Vamp, the editor, is in want of +a hand for the moral department of his Review: I will give you a note to +him.’ I thanked him for his kindness, and, furnished with the note, +proceeded to the lodgings of Mr. Vamp, whom I found in an elegant first +floor, lounging over a large quarto, which he was marking with a pencil. +A number of books and pamphlets, and fragments of both curiously cut up, +were scattered on the table before him, together with a large pot of +paste and an enormous pair of scissors. + +He received me with great hauteur, read the note, and said, ‘Mr. +Foolscap has told you we are in want of a hand, and he thinks you have a +turn in the moral line: I shall not be sorry if it prove so, for we have +been very ill provided in that way a long while; and though morals are +not much in demand among our patrons and customers, and will not do, by +any means, for a standing dish, they make, nevertheless, a very pretty +seasoning for our politics, in cases where they might otherwise be +rather unpalatable and hard of digestion. You see this pile of +pamphlets, these volumes of poetry, and this rascally quarto: all these, +though under very different titles, and the productions of very +different orders of mind, have, either openly or covertly, only one +object; and a most impertinent one it is. This object is twofold: first, +to prove the existence, to an immense extent, of what these writers +think proper to denominate political corruption; secondly, to convince +the public that this corruption ought to be extinguished. Now, we are +anxious to do away the effect of all these incendiary clamours. As to +the existence of corruption (it is a villainous word, by the bye—we call +it _persuasion in a tangible shape_): as to the existence, then, of +_persuasion in a tangible shape_, we do not wish to deny it; on the +contrary, we have no hesitation in affirming that it is _as notorious as +the sun at noonday_: but as to the inference that it ought to be +extinguished—that is the point against which we direct the full fire of +our critical artillery; we maintain that it ought to exist; and here is +the leading article of our next number, in which we confound in one mass +all these obnoxious publications, putting the weakest at the head of the +list, that if any of our readers should feel inclined to judge for +themselves (I must do them the credit to say I do not suspect many of +them of such a democratical propensity), they may be stopped _in +limine_, by finding very little temptation to proceed. The political +composition of this article is beautiful; it is the production of a +gentleman high in office, who is indebted to _persuasion in a tangible +shape_ for his present income of several thousands per annum; but it +wants, as I have hinted, a little moral seasoning; and there, as +ill-luck will have it, we are all thrown out. We have several reverend +gentlemen in our corps, but morals are unluckily quite out of their way. +We have, on some occasions, with their assistance, substituted theology +for morals; they manage this very cleverly, but I am sorry to say it +only takes among the old women; and though the latter are our best and +most numerous customers, yet we have some very obstinate and hard-headed +readers who will not, as I have observed, swallow our politics without a +little moral seasoning; and, as I told Mr. Foolscap, if we did not +contrive to pick up a spice of morals somewhere or other, all the +eloquence of _persuasion in a tangible shape_ would soon become of +little avail. Now, if you will undertake the seasoning of this article +in such a manner as to satisfy my employers, I will satisfy you: you +understand me.’ + +I observed that I hoped he would allow me the free exercise of my own +opinion; and that I should wish to season his article in such a manner +as to satisfy myself, which I candidly told him would not be in such a +manner as seemed likely to satisfy him. + +On this he flew into a rage, and vowed vengeance against Mr. Foolscap +for having sent him a Jacobin. I strenuously disclaimed this +appellation; and being then quite a novice in the world, I actually +endeavoured to reason with him, as if the conviction of general right +and wrong could have any influence upon him; but he stopped me short, by +saying that till I could reason him out of his pension I might spare +myself the trouble of interfering with his opinions; as the logic from +which they were deduced had presented itself to him in a much more +_tangible shape_ than any abstract notions of truth and liberty. He had +thought, from Mr. Foolscap’s letter, that I had a talent for moral +theory, and that I was inclined to turn it to account; as for moral +practice, he had nothing to do with it, desired to know nothing about +it, and wished me a good-morning. + +I was not yet discouraged, and made similar applications to the editors +and proprietors of several daily, weekly, monthly, and quarterly +publications, but I found everywhere the same indifference or aversion +to general principles, the same partial and perverted views: every one +was the organ of some division or subdivision of a faction; and had +entrenched himself in a narrow circle, within the pale of which all was +honour, consistency, integrity, generosity, and justice; while all +without it was villainy, hypocrisy, selfishness, corruption, and lies. +Not being inclined to imprison myself in any one of these magical rings, +I found all my interviews terminate like that with Mr. Vamp. + +By the advice and introduction of a college acquaintance, I accepted the +situation of tutor in the family of Mr. Dross, a wealthy citizen, who +had acquired a large fortune by contracts with Government, in the +execution of which he had not forgotten to charge for his vote and +interest. His conscience, indeed, of all the commodities he dealt in, +was that which he had brought to the best market; though, among his more +fair-dealing, and consequently poorer neighbours, it was thought he had +made the ministry pay too dearly for so very rotten an article. They +seemed not to be aware that a corrupt administration estimates +conscience and Stilton cheese by the same criterion, and that its +rottenness was its recommendation. + +Mr. Dross was a tun of man, with the soul of a hazel-nut: his wife was a +tun of woman, without any soul whatever. The principle that animated her +bulk was composed of three ingredients—arrogance, ignorance, and the +pride of money. They were, in every sense of the word, what the world +calls respectable people. + +Mrs. Dross aspired to be _somebody_, aped the nobility, and gave +magnificent routs, which were attended by many noble personages, and by +all that portion of the fashionable world that will go anywhere for a +crowd and a supper. + +Their idea of virtue consisted in having no debts, going regularly to +church, and feeding the parson; their idea of charity, in paying the +poor-rates, and putting down their names to public subscriptions: and +they had a profound contempt for every species of learning, which they +associated indissolubly with rags and famine, and with that neglect of +the main chance, which they regarded as the most deadly of all deadly +sins. But as they had several hopeful children, and as Mrs. Dross found +it was fashionable to have a governess and a _tutorer_, they had looked +out for two pieces of human furniture under these denominations, and my +capricious destiny led me to their splendid dwelling in the latter +capacity. + +I found the governess, Miss Pliant, very admirably adapted to her +situation. She did not presume to have a will of her own. Suspended like +Mahomet’s coffin between the mistress and the housekeeper, despising the +one, and despised by the other, her mind seemed unconscious of its +vacancy, and her heart of its loneliness. She had neither feelings nor +principles, either of good or ill: perfectly selfish, perfectly +cold-hearted, and perfectly obsequious, she was contented with her +situation, because it seemed likely to lead to an advantageous +establishment; for if ever she thought of marriage, it was only in the +light of a system of bargain, in which youth and beauty were very well +disposed of when bartered for age and money. She was highly +accomplished: a very scientific musician, without any soul in her +performance; a most skilful copier of landscapes, without the least +taste for the beauties of nature; and a proficient in French grammar, +though she had read no book in that language but _Telemaque_, and hated +the names of Rousseau and Voltaire, because she had heard them called +rascals by her father, who had taken his opinion on trust from the +Reverend Mr. Simony, who had never read a page of either of them. + +I very soon found that I was regarded as an upper servant—as a person of +more pretension, but less utility, than the footman. I was expected to +be really more servile, in mind especially. If I presumed to differ in +opinion from Mr. or Mrs. Dross, they looked at each other and at me with +the most profound astonishment, wondering at so much audacity in one of +their movables. I really envied the footman, living as he did among his +equals, where he might have his own opinion, as far as he was capable of +forming one, and express it without reserve or fear; while all my +thoughts were to be those of a mirror, and my motions those of an +automaton. I soon saw that I had but the choice of alternatives: either +to mould myself into a slave, liar, and hypocrite, or to take my leave +of Mr. Dross. I therefore embraced the latter, and determined from that +moment never again to live under the roof of a superior, if my own +dwelling were to be the most humble and abject of human habitations. + +I returned to my old lodgings, and, after a short time, procured some +employment in the way of copying for a lawyer. My labour was assiduous, +and my remuneration scanty; but my habits were simple, my evenings were +free, and in the daughter of the widow with whom I lodged I found a +congenial mind: a desire for knowledge, an ardent love of truth, and a +capacity that made my voluntary office of instruction at once easy and +delightful. + +The widow died embarrassed: her creditors seized her effects, and her +daughter was left destitute. I was her only friend: to every other human +being, not only her welfare, but even her existence, were matters of +total indifference. The course of necessity seemed to have thrown her on +my protection, and if I before loved her, I now regarded her as a +precious trust, confided to me by her evil fate. Call it what you +may—imprudence, madness, frenzy—we were married. + +The lawyer who employed me had chosen his profession very injudiciously, +for he was an honest and benevolent man. He interested himself for me, +acquainted himself with my circumstances, and without informing me of +his motives, increased my remuneration; though, as I afterwards found, +he could very ill afford to do so. By this means we lived twelve months +in comfort, I may say, considering the simplicity of our habits, in +prosperity. The birth of our first child was an accession to our +domestic happiness. We had no pleasures beyond the limits of our humble +dwelling. Our circumstances and situation were much below the ordinary +level of those of well-educated people: we had, therefore, no society, +but we were happy in each other: our evenings were consecrated to our +favourite authors; and the din of the streets, the tumult of crowds and +carriages thronging to parties of pleasure and scenes of public +amusement, came to us like the roar of a stormy ocean on which we had +neither wish nor power to embark. + +One evening we were surprised by an unexpected visitor; it was the +lawyer, my employer. ‘Desmond!’ said he, ‘I am a ruined man. For having +been too scrupulous to make beggars of others, I have a fair prospect of +becoming one myself. You are shocked and astonished. Do not grieve on my +account. I have neither wife nor children. Very trivial and very +remediable is the evil that can happen to me. “The valiant by himself, +what can he suffer?” You will think a lawyer has as little business with +poetry as he has with justice. Perhaps so. I have been too partial to +both.’ + +I was glad to see him so cheerful, and expressed a hope that his affairs +would take a better turn than he seemed to expect. ‘You shall know +more,’ said he, ‘in a few days; in the meantime, here are the arrears I +owe you.’ + +When he came again, he said: ‘My creditors are neither numerous nor +cruel. I have made over to them all my property, but they allow me to +retain possession of a small house in Westmoreland, with an annuity for +my life, sufficient to maintain me in competence. I could propose a wild +scheme to you if I thought you would not be offended.’ + +‘That,’ said I, ‘I certainly will not, propose what you may.’ + +‘Tell me,’ said he, ‘which do you think the most useful and +uncontaminating implement, the quill or the spade?’ + +‘The spade,’ said I, ‘generally speaking, unquestionably: the quill in +some most rare and solitary instances.’ + +‘In the hand of Homer and Plutarch, of Seneca and Tacitus, of +Shakespeare and Rousseau? I am not speaking of them, or of those who, +however humbly, reflect their excellencies. But in the hands of the +slaves of commerce, the minions of law, the venal advocates of +superstition, the sycophants of corruption, the turnspits of literature, +the paragraph-mongers of prostituted journals, the hireling compounders +of party-praise and censure, under the name of periodical criticism, +what say you to it?’ + +‘What can I say,’ said I, ‘but that it is the curse of society, and the +bane of the human mind?’ + +‘And yet,’ said he, ‘in some of these ways must you employ it, if you +wish to live by it. Literature is not the soil in which truth and +liberty can flourish, unless their cultivators be independent of the +world. Those who are not so, whatever be the promise of their beginning, +will end either in sycophants or beggars. As mere mechanical +instruments, in pursuits unconnected with literature, what say you to +the comparison?’ + +‘What Cincinnatus would have said,’ I answered. + +‘I am glad,’ said he, ‘to hear it. You are not one of the multitude, +neither, I believe, am I. I embraced my profession, I assure you, from +very disinterested motives. I considered that, the greater the powers of +mischief with which that profession is armed, and, I am sorry to add, +the practice of mischief in the generality of its professors, the +greater might be the scope of philanthropy, in protecting weakness and +counteracting oppression. Thus I have passed my life in an attempt to +reconcile philanthropy and law. I had property sufficient to enable me +to try the experiment. The natural consequence is, my property has +vanished. I do not regret it, for I have done some good. But I can do no +more. My power is annulled. I must retire from the stage of life. If I +retire alone, I must have servants; I had much rather have friends. If +you will accompany me to Westmoreland, we will organise a little +republic of our own. Your wife shall be our housekeeper. We will +cultivate our garden. We shall want little more, and that my annuity +will amply supply. We will select a few books, and we will pronounce +eternal banishment on pen and ink.’ + +I could not help smiling at the earnestness with which he pronounced the +last clause. The change of a lawyer into a Roman republican appeared to +me as miraculous as any metamorphosis in Ovid. Not to weary you with +details, we carried this scheme into effect, and passed three years of +natural and healthy occupation, with perfect simplicity and perfect +content. They were the happiest of our lives. But at the end of this +period our old friend died. His annuity died with him. He left me his +heir, but his habitation and its furniture were all he had to leave. I +procured a tenant for the house, and we removed to this even yet more +humble dwelling. The difference of the rent, a very trifling sum indeed, +constituted our only income. The increase of our family, and the +consequent pressure of necessity, compelled us to sell the house. From +the same necessity we have become strict Pythagoreans. I do not complain +that we live hardly: it is almost wonderful that we live at all. The +produce of our little garden preserves us from famine: but this is all +it does. I consider myself a mere rustic, and very willingly engage in +agricultural labour, when the neighbouring farmers think proper to +employ me: but they feel no deficiency of abler hands. There are more +labourers than means of labour. In the cities it is the same. If all the +modes of human occupation in this kingdom, from the highest to the +lowest, were to require at once a double number of persons, there would +not remain one of them twelve hours unfilled. + +With what views could I return to London? Of the throng continually +pressing onward, to spring into the vacancies of employment, the +foremost ranks are unfortunately composed of the selfish, the servile, +the intriguing; of those to whose ideas general justice is a chimaera, +liberty an empty name, and truth at best a verbal veil for the +sycophantic falsehood of a mercenary spirit. To what end could a pupil +of the ancient Romans mingle with such a multitude? To cringe, to lie, +to flatter? To bow to the insolence of wealth, the superciliousness of +rank, the contumely of patronage, that, while it exacts the most abject +mental prostration, in return for promises never meant to be performed, +despises the servility it fosters, and laughs at the credulity it +betrays? + +The wheel of fortune is like a water-wheel, and human beings are like +the waters it disturbs. Many are thrown into the channels of action, +many are thrown back to be lost for ever in the stream. I am one of the +latter: but I shall not consider it disgraceful to me that I am so, till +I see that candour, simplicity, integrity, and intellectual power, +directed by benevolence and liberty, have a better claim to worldly +estimation, than either venal talent prostituted to the wages of +corruption, or ignorance, meanness, and imbecility, exalted by influence +and interest. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + THE COTTAGE + + +_Mr. Fax (in continuation)._ ‘I cannot help thinking,’ said I, when +Desmond had done speaking, ‘that you have formed too hasty an estimate +of the world. Mr. Vamp and Mr. Dross are bad specimens of human nature: +but there are many good specimens of it in both those classes of men. +The world is, indeed, full of prejudices and superstitions, which +produce ample profit to their venal advocates, who consequently want +neither the will nor the power to calumniate and persecute the +enlightened and the virtuous. The rich, too, are usually arrogant and +exacting, and those feelings will never perish for want of sycophants to +nourish them. An ardent love of truth and liberty will, therefore, +always prove an almost insuperable barrier to any great degree of +worldly advancement. A celebrated divine, who turned his theological +morality to very excellent account, and died _en bonne odeur_, used to +say, _he could not afford to have a conscience, for it was the most +expensive luxury a man could indulge in_. So it certainly is: but, +though a conscientious man who has his own way to make in the world, +will very seldom flourish in the sunshine of prosperity, it is not, +therefore, necessary that he should sit quietly down and starve.’ He +said he would think of it, and if he could find any loophole in the +great feudal fortress of society, at which poverty and honesty could +creep in together, he would try to effect an entrance. I made more +particular inquiry into their circumstances, and they at length +communicated to me, but with manifest reluctance, that they were in +imminent danger of being deprived of their miserable furniture, and +turned out of their wretched habitation, by Lawrence Litigate, Esquire, +their landlord, for arrears of rent amounting to five pounds. + +_Mr. Forester._ Which, of course, you paid? + +_Mr. Fax._ I did so; but I do not see that it is of course. + +Mr. Forester, Mr. Fax, and Sir Oran were still leaning over the gate of +the cottage, when a peasant came whistling along the road. ‘Pray, my +honest friend,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘can you inform me what has become of the +family which inhabited this cottage two years ago?’—‘Ye’ll voind them,’ +said the peasant, ‘about a mile vurther an, just by the lake’s edge +like, wi’ two large elms by the door, and a vir tree.’ He resumed his +tune and his way. + +The philosophical trio proceeded on their walk. + +_Mr. Forester._ You have said little of his wife. + +_Mr. Fax._ She was an interesting creature. With her the feelings of +misfortune had subsided into melancholy silence, while with him they +broke forth in misanthropical satire. + +_Mr. Forester._ And their children? + +_Mr. Fax._ They would have been fine children, if they had been better +clothed and fed. + +_Mr. Forester._ Did they seem to repent their marriage? + +_Mr. Fax._ Not for themselves. They appeared to have no wish but to live +and die together. For their children, indeed, I could easily perceive +they felt more grief than they expressed. + +_Mr. Forester._ You have scarcely made out your case. Poverty had +certainly come in at the door, but Love does not seem to have flown out +at the window. You would not have prevailed on them to separate at the +price of living in palaces. The energy of intellect was not deadened; +the independence of spirit was not broken. The participation of love +communicates a luxury to sorrow, that all the splendour of selfishness +can never bestow. If, as has been said, a friend is more valuable than +the elements of fire and water, how much more valuable must be the one +only associate, the more than friend, to him whom in affliction and in +poverty all other friends have abandoned! If the sun shines equally on +the palace and the cottage, why should not love, the sun of the +intellectual world, shine equally on both? More needful, indeed, is its +genial light to the latter, where there is no worldly splendour to +diminish or divide its radiance. + +[Illustration: _Sir Oran sat down in the artist’s seat._] + +With a sudden turn of the road, a scene of magnificent beauty burst upon +their view: the still expanse of a lake, bordered with dark precipices +and fading woods, and mountains rising above them, height on height, +till the clouds rested on their summits. A picturesque tourist had +planted his travelling-chair under the corner of a rock, and was +intently occupied in sketching the scene. The process attracted Sir +Oran’s curiosity; he walked up to the tourist, who was too deeply +engaged to notice his approach, and peeped over his shoulder. Sir Oran, +after looking at the picture, then at the landscape, then at the +picture, then at the landscape again, at length suddenly expressed his +delight in a very loud and very singular shout, close in the painter’s +ear, that re-echoed from rock to rock. The tourist sprang up in violent +alarm, and seeing the extraordinary physiognomy of the personage at his +elbow, drew a sudden conclusion of evil intentions, and ran off with +great rapidity, leaving all his apparatus behind him. Sir Oran sat down +in the artist’s seat, took up the drawing utensils, placed the +unfinished drawing on his knee, and sat in an attitude of deep +contemplation, as if meditating on the means to be pursued for doing the +same thing himself. + +The flying tourist encountered Messieurs Fax and Forester, who had +observed the transaction, and were laughing at it as heartily as +Democritus himself could have done. They tranquillised his +apprehensions, and led him back to the spot. Sir Oran, on a hint from +his friend Mr. Forester, rose, made the tourist a polite bow, and +restored to him his beloved portfolio. They then wished him a +good-morning, and left him in a state of nervous trepidation, which made +it very obvious that he would draw no more that day. + +_Mr. Fax._ Can Sir Oran draw? + +_Mr. Forester._ No; but I think he would easily acquire the art. It is +very probable that in the nation of the Orans, which I take to be _a +barbarous nation that has not yet learned the use of speech_,[34] +drawing, as a means of communicating ideas, may be in no contemptible +state of forwardness.[35] + +_Mr. Fax._ He has, of course, seen many drawings since he has been among +civilised men; what so peculiarly delighted and surprised him in this? + +_Mr. Forester._ I suspect this is the first opportunity he has had of +comparing the natural original with the artificial copy; and his delight +was excited by seeing the vast scene before him transferred so +accurately into so small a compass, and growing, as it were, into a +distinct identity under the hand of the artist. + +They now arrived at the elms and the fir-tree, which the peasant had +pointed out as the landmarks of the dwelling of Desmond. They were +surprised to see a very pretty cottage, standing in the midst of a +luxuriant garden, one part of which sloped down to the edge of the lake. +Everything bore the air of comfort and competence. They almost doubted +if the peasant had been correct in his information. Three rosy children, +plainly but neatly dressed, were sitting on the edge of the shallow +water, watching with intense delight and interest the manœuvres of a +paper flotilla, which they had committed to the mercy of the waves. + +_Mr. Fax._ What is the difference between these children and Xerxes on +the shores of Salamis? + +_Mr. Forester._ None, but that where they have pure and unmingled +pleasure, his feelings began in selfish pride, and ended in slavish +fear; their amusement is natural and innocent; his was unnatural, cruel, +and destructive, and therefore more unworthy of a rational being. +_Better is a poor and wise child than a foolish king that will not be +admonished._ + +A female came from the cottage. Mr. Fax recognised Mrs. Desmond. He was +surprised at the change in her appearance. Health and content animated +her countenance. The simple neatness of her dress derived an appearance +of elegance from its interesting wearer; contrary to the fashionable +process, in which dress neither neat nor simple, but a heterogeneous +mixture of all the fripperies of Europe, gives what the world calls +elegance, where less partial nature has denied it. There are, in this +respect, two classes of human beings: Nature makes the first herself, +for the beauty of her own creation; her journeymen cut out the second +for tailors and mantua-makers to finish. The first, when apparelled, may +be called dressed people—the second, peopled dresses; the first bear the +same relation to their clothes as an oak bears to its foliage—the +second, the same as a wig-block bears to a wig; the first may be +compared to cocoa-nuts, in which the kernel is more valuable than the +shell—the second, to some varieties of the _Testaceous Mollusca_, where +a shell of infinite value covers a stupid fish that is good for nothing. + +Mrs. Desmond recognised Mr. Fax. ‘O sir!’ said she, ‘I rejoice to see +you.’—‘And I rejoice,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘to see you as you now are; Fortune +has befriended you.’—‘You rendered us great service, sir, in our +wretched condition; but the benefit, of course, was transient. With the +next quarter-day Mr. Litigate, our landlord, resumed his persecutions; +and we should have been turned out of our wretched dwelling to perish in +the roads, had not some happy incident made Miss Melincourt acquainted +with our situation. To know what it was, and to make it what it is, were +the same thing to her. So suddenly, when the extremity of evil was +impending over us, to be placed in this little Paradise in +competence—nay, to our simple habits, in affluence, and in such a +manner, as if we were bestowing, not receiving favours——O sir, there +cannot be two Miss Melincourts! But will you not walk in and take some +refreshment?—we can offer you refreshment now. My husband is absent at +present, but he will very soon return.’ + +While she was speaking he arrived. Mr. Fax congratulated him. At his +earnest solicitation they entered the cottage, and were delighted with +the beautiful neatness that predominated in every part of it. The three +children ran in to see the strangers. Mr. Forester took up the little +girl, Mr. Fax a boy, and Sir Oran Haut-ton another. The latter took +alarm at the physiognomy of his new friend, and cried and kicked, and +struggled for release; but Sir Oran, producing a flute from his pocket, +struck up a lively air, which reconciled the child, who then sat very +quietly on his knee. + +Some refreshment was placed before them, and Sir Oran testified, by a +copious draught, that he found much virtue in home-brewed ale. + +‘There is a farm attached to this cottage,’ said Mr. Desmond; ‘and Miss +Melincourt, by having placed me in it, enabled me to maintain my family +in comfort and independence, and to educate them in a free, healthy, and +natural occupation. I have ever thought agriculture the noblest of human +pursuits; to the theory and practice of it I now devote my whole +attention, and I am not without hopes that the improvement of this part +of my benefactress’s estate will justify her generous confidence in a +friendless stranger; but what can repay her benevolence?’ + +‘I will answer for her,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘though she is as yet +personally unknown to me, that she loves benevolence for its own sake, +and is satisfied with its consummation.’ + +After a short conversation, and a promise soon to revisit the now happy +family, Mr. Forester, Mr. Fax, and Sir Oran Haut-ton resumed their walk. +Mr. Forester, at parting, put, unobserved, into the hand of the little +boy, a folded paper, telling him to give it to his father. It was a leaf +which he had torn from his pocket-book; he had enclosed in it a +bank-note, and had written on it with a pencil, ‘Do not refuse to a +stranger the happiness of reflecting that he has, however tardily and +slightly, co-operated with Miss Melincourt in a work of justice.’ + + + + + CHAPTER XV + THE LIBRARY + + +Mr. Forester, Mr. Fax, and Sir Oran Haut-ton arrived at Melincourt +Castle. They were shown into a parlour, where they were left alone a few +minutes; when Mr. Hippy made his appearance, and recognising Sir Oran, +shook hands with him very cordially. Mr. Forester produced the letter he +had received from Mr. Ratstail, which Mr. Hippy having read, vented a +string of invectives against the impudent rascal, and explained the +mystery of the adventure, though he seemed to think it strange that Sir +Oran could not have explained it himself. Mr. Forester shook his head +significantly; and Mr. Hippy, affecting to understand the gesture, +exclaimed, ‘Ah! poor gentleman!’ He then invited them to stay to dinner. +‘I won’t be refused,’ said he; ‘I am lord and master of this castle at +present, and here you shall stay till to-morrow. Anthy will be delighted +to see her friend here’ (bowing to Sir Oran, who returned it with great +politeness), ‘and we will hold a council of war, how to deal with this +pair of puppies, Lawrence Litigate, Esquire, and Richard Ratstail, +Solicitor. I have several visitors here already: lords, baronets, and +squires, all Corydons, sighing for Anthy; but it seems _Love’s Labour +Lost_ with all of them. However, love and wine, you know! Anthy won’t +give them the first, so I drench them with the second: there will be +more bottles than hearts cracked in the business, for all Anthy’s +beauty. _Men die and worms eat them_, as usual, _but not for love_. + +Mr. Forester inquired for Sir Telegraph Paxarett. ‘An excellent fellow +after dinner!’ exclaimed Mr. Hippy. ‘I never see him in the morning; nor +any one else, but my rascal, Harry Fell, and now and then Harry +Killquick. The moment breakfast is over, one goes one way, and another +another. Anthy locks herself up in the library.’ + +‘Locks herself up in the library!’ said Mr. Fax: ‘a young lady, a +beauty, and an heiress, in the nineteenth century, think of cultivating +her understanding!’ + +‘Strange, but true,’ said Mr. Hippy; ‘and here am I, a poor invalid, +left alone all the morning to prowl about the castle like a ghost; that +is, when I am well enough to move, which is not always the case. But the +library is opened at four, and the party assembles there before dinner; +and as it is now about the time, come with me, and I will introduce +you.’ + +They followed Mr. Hippy to the library, where they found Anthelia alone. + +‘Anthy,’ said Mr. Hippy, after the forms of introduction, ‘do you know +you are accused of laying waste a pine-grove, and carrying it off by +cartloads, with force and arms?’ + +Anthelia read Mr. Ratstail’s letter. ‘This is a very strange piece of +folly,’ she said; ‘I hope it will not be a mischievous one.’ She then +renewed the expressions of her gratitude to Sir Oran, and bade him +welcome to Melincourt. Sir Oran bowed in silence. + +‘Folly and mischief,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘are very nearly allied; and nowhere +more conspicuously than in the forms of the law.’ + +_Mr. Forester._ You have an admirable library, Miss Melincourt: and I +judge from the great number of Italian books, you are justly partial to +the poets of that exquisite language. The apartment itself seems +singularly adapted to the genius of their poetry, which combines the +magnificent simplicity of ancient Greece with the mysterious grandeur of +the feudal ages. Those windows of stained glass would recall to an +enthusiastic mind the attendant spirit of Tasso; and the waving of the +cedars beyond, when the wind makes music in their boughs, with the birds +singing in their shades and the softened dash of the torrent from the +dingle below, might with little aid from fancy be modulated into that +exquisite combination of melody which flowed from the enchanted wood at +the entrance of Rinaldo, and which Tasso has painted with a degree of +harmony not less magical than the music he describes. Italian poetry is +all fairyland: I know not any description of literature so congenial to +the tenderness and delicacy of the female mind, which, however opposite +may be the tendency of modern education, Nature has most pre-eminently +adapted to be ‘a mansion for all lovely forms: a dwelling-place for all +sweet sounds and harmonies.’[36] Of these, Italian poetry is a most +inexhaustible fountain; and for that reason I could wish it to be +generally acknowledged a point of the very first importance in female +education. + +_Anthelia._ You have a better opinion of the understandings of women, +sir, than the generality of your lordly sex seems disposed to entertain. + +_Mr. Forester._ The conduct of men, in this respect, is much like that +of a gardener who should plant a plot of ground with merely ornamental +flowers, and then pass sentence on the soil for not bearing substantial +fruit. If women are treated only as pretty dolls, and dressed in all the +fripperies of irrational education; if the vanity of personal adornment +and superficial accomplishments be made from their very earliest years +to suppress all mental aspirations, and to supersede all thoughts of +intellectual beauty, is it to be inferred that they are incapable of +better things? But such is the usual logic of tyranny, which first +places its extinguisher on the flame, and then argues that it cannot +burn. + +_Mr. Fax._ Your remark is not totally just: for though custom, how +justly I will not say, banishes women from the fields of classical +literature, yet the study of Italian poetry, of which you think so +highly, is very much encouraged among them. + +_Mr. Forester._ You should rather say it is not discouraged. They are +permitted to know it: but in very few instances is the permission +accompanied by any practical aid. The only points practically enforced +in female education are sound, colour, and form,—music, dress, drawing, +and dancing. The mind is left to take care of itself. + +_Mr. Fax._ And has as much chance of doing so as a horse in a pound, +circumscribed in the narrowest limits, and studiously deprived of +nourishment. + +_Anthelia._ The simile is, I fear, too just. To think is one of the most +unpardonable errors a woman can commit in the eyes of society. In our +sex a taste for intellectual pleasures is almost equivalent to taking +the veil; and though not absolutely a vow of perpetual celibacy, it has +almost always the same practical tendency. In that universal system of +superficial education which so studiously depresses the mind of women, a +female who aspires to mental improvement will scarcely find in her own +sex a congenial associate; and the other will regard her as an intruder +on its prescriptive authority, its legitimate and divine right over the +dominion of thought and reason: and the general consequence is, that she +remains insulated between both, in more than cloistered loneliness. Even +in its effect on herself, the ideal beauty which she studies will make +her fastidious, too fastidious, perhaps, to the world of realities, and +deprive her of the happiness that might be her portion, by fixing her +imagination on chimaeras of unattainable excellence. + +_Mr. Forester._ I can answer for men, Miss Melincourt, that there are +some, many I hope, who can appreciate justly that most heavenly of +earthly things, an enlightened female mind; whatever may be thought by +the pedantry that envies, the foppery that fears, the folly that +ridicules, or the wilful blindness that will not see its loveliness. I +am afraid your last observation approaches most nearly to the truth, and +that it is owing more to their own fastidiousness than to the want of +friends and admirers, that intelligent women are so often alone in the +world. But were it otherwise, the objection will not apply to Italian +poetry, a field of luxuriant beauty, from which women are not +interdicted even by the most intolerant prejudice of masculine +usurpation. + +_Anthelia._ They are not interdicted, certainly; but they are seldom +encouraged to enter it. Perhaps it is feared, that, having gone thus +far, they might be tempted to go farther: that the friend of Tasso might +aspire to the acquaintance of Virgil, or even to an introduction to +Homer and Sophocles. + +_Mr. Forester._ And why should she not? Far from desiring to suppress +such a noble ambition, how delightful should I think the task of +conducting the lovely aspirant through the treasures of Grecian +genius!—to wander hand in hand with such a companion among the valleys +and fountains of Ida, and by the banks of the eddying Scamander;[37] +through the island of Calypso, and the gardens of Alcinous;[38] to the +rocks of the Scythian desert;[39] to the caverned shores of the solitary +Lemnos;[40] and to the fatal sands of Troezene[41] to kindle in such +scenes the enthusiasm of such a mind, and to see the eyes of love and +beauty beaming with their reflected inspiration! Miserably perverted, +indeed, must be the selfishness of him who, having such happiness in his +power, would, + + Like the base Indian, throw a pearl away, + Richer than all his tribe. + +_Mr. Fax._ My friend’s enthusiasm, Miss Melincourt, usually runs away +with him when any allusion is made to ancient Greece. + +Mr. Forester had spoken with ardour and animation; for the scenes of +which he spoke rose upon his mind and depicted in the incomparable +poetry to which he had alluded; the figurative idea of wandering among +them with a young and beautiful female aspirant assumed for a moment a +visionary reality; and when he subsequently reflected on it it appeared +to him very singular that the female figure in the mental picture had +assumed the form and features of Anthelia Melincourt. + +Anthelia, too, saw in the animated countenance of Sylvan Forester traces +of more than common feeling, generosity, and intelligence: his imaginary +wanderings through the classic scenes of antiquity assumed in her +congenial mind the brightest colours of intellectual beauty; and she +could not help thinking that if he were what he appeared, such +wanderings, with such a guide, would not be the most unenviable of +earthly destinies. + +The other guests dropped in by ones and twos. Sir Telegraph was +agreeably surprised to see Mr. Forester. ‘By the bye,’ said he, ‘have +you heard that a general election is to take place immediately?’ + +‘I have,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘and was thinking of putting you and your +barouche in requisition very shortly.’ + +‘As soon as you please,’ said Sir Telegraph. + +The Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney took Sir Telegraph aside, to make inquiry +concerning the new-comers. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ Who is that very bright-eyed, wild-looking +young man? + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ That is my old acquaintance and +fellow-collegian, Sylvan Forester, now of Redrose Abbey, in this county. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ Is he respectable? + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ He has a good estate, if you mean that. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ To be sure I mean that. And who is that tall +thin saturnine personage? + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ I know nothing of him but that his name is +Fax, and that he is now on a visit to Mr. Forester at Redrose Abbey. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ And who is that _very_ tall and remarkably +ugly gentleman? + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ That is Sir Oran Haut-ton, Baronet; to which +designation you may shortly add M.P. for the ancient and honourable +borough of Onevote. + +_The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ A Baronet! and M.P.! Well, now I look at him +again, I certainly do not think him so very plain: he has a very +fashionable air. Haut-ton! French extraction, no doubt. And now I think +of it, there is something very French in his physiognomy. + +Dinner was announced, and the party adjourned to the dining-room. Mr. +Forester offered his hand to Anthelia; and Sir Oran Haut-ton, following +the example, presented his to the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney.[42] + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + THE SYMPOSIUM + + +The dinner passed off with great harmony. The ladies withdrew. The +bottle revolved with celerity, under the presidency of Mr. Hippy, and +the vice-presidency of Sir Telegraph Paxarett. The Reverend Mr. +Portpipe, who was that day of the party, pronounced an eulogium on the +wine, which was echoed by the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, Mr. O’Scarum, +Lord Anophel Achthar, Mr. Feathernest, and Mr. Derrydown. Mr. Forester +and Mr. Fax showed no disposition to destroy the unanimity of opinion on +this interesting subject. Sir Oran Haut-ton maintained a grave and +dignified silence, but demonstrated by his practice that his taste was +orthodox. Mr. O’Scarum sat between Sir Oran and the Reverend Mr. +Portpipe, and kept a sharp look-out on both sides of him; but did not, +during the whole course of the sitting, detect either of his supporters +in the heinous fact of a heeltap. + +_Mr. Hippy._ Dr. Killquick may say what he pleases + + Of mithridate, cordials, and elixirs; + But from my youth this was my only physic.— + Here’s a colour! what lady’s cheek comes near it? + It sparkles, hangs out diamonds! O my sweet heart! + Mistress of merry hearts! they are not worth thy favours + Who number thy moist kisses in these crystals![43] + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._ An excellent text!—sound doctrine, plain and +practical. When I open the bottle, I shut the book of Numbers. There are +two reasons for drinking: one is, when you are thirsty, to cure it; the +other, when you are not thirsty, to prevent it. The first is obvious, +mechanical, and plebeian; the second is most refined, abstract, +prospicient, and canonical. I drink by anticipation of thirst that may +be. Prevention is better than cure. Wine is the elixir of life. ‘The +soul,’ says St. Augustine, ‘cannot live in drought.’[44] What is death? +Dust and ashes. There is nothing so dry. What is life? Spirit. What is +Spirit? Wine. + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ And whisky. + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._ Whisky is hepatic, phlogistic, and +exanthematous. Wine is the hierarchical and archiepiscopal fluid. +Bacchus is said to have conquered the East, and to have returned loaded +with its spoils. ‘Marry how? tropically.’ The conquests of Bacchus are +the victories of imagination, which, sublimated by wine, puts to rout +care, fear, and poverty, and revels in the treasures of Utopia. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ The juice of the grape is the liquid quintessence of +concentrated sunbeams. Man is an exotic, in this northern climate, and +must be nourished like a hot-house plant, by the perpetual adhibition of +artificial heat. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ You were not always so fond of wine, +Feathernest? + +_Mr. Feathernest._ Oh, my lord! no allusion, I beseech you, to my +youthful errors. Demosthenes, being asked what wine he liked best, +answered, that which he drank at the expense of others. + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._ Demosthenes was right. His circumstance, or +qualification, is an accompaniment of better relish than a devilled +biscuit or an anchovy toast. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ In former days, my lord, I had no experience that +way; therefore I drank water against my will. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ And wrote Odes upon it, to Truth and Liberty. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ ‘Ah, no more of that, an’ thou lovest me.’ Now that I +can get it for a song, I take my pipe of wine a year: and what is the +effect? Not cold phlegmatic lamentations over the sufferings of the +poor, but high-flown, jovial, reeling dithyrambics ‘to all the crowned +heads in Europe.’ I had then a vague notion that all was wrong. +Persuasion has since appeared to me in a tangible shape, and convinced +me that all is right, especially at court. Then I saw darkly through a +glass—of water. Now I see clearly through a glass of wine. + +[Illustration: _Mr. Feathernest._] + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe_ (_looking through his glass at the light_). An +infallible telescope! + +_Mr. Forester._ I am unfortunately one of those, sir, who very much +admired your Odes to Truth and Liberty, and read your royal lyrics with +very different sensations. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ I presume, sir, every man has a right to change his +opinions. + +_Mr. Forester._ From disinterested conviction undoubtedly: but when it +is obviously from mercenary motives, the apostasy of a public man is a +public calamity. It is not his single loss to the cause he supported, +that is alone to be lamented: the deep shade of mistrust which his +conduct throws on that of all others who embark in the same career tends +to destroy all sympathy with the enthusiasm of genius, all admiration +for the intrepidity of truth, all belief in the sincerity of zeal for +public liberty: if their advocates drop one by one into the vortex of +courtly patronage, every new one that arises will be more and more +regarded as a hollow-hearted hypocrite, a false and venal angler for +pension and place; for there is in these cases no criterion by which the +world can distinguish the baying of a noble dog that will defend his +trust till death, from the yelping of a political cur, that only infests +the heels of power to be silenced with the offals of corruption. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Cursed severe, Feathernest, ‘pon honour. + +_Mr. Fax._ _The gradual falling off of prudent men from unprofitable +virtues is perhaps too common an occurrence to deserve much notice, or +justify much reprobation._[45] + +_Mr. Forester._ If it were not common, it would not need reprobation. +Vices of unfrequent occurrence stand sufficiently self-exposed in the +insulation of their own deformity. The vices that call for the scourge +of satire are those which pervade the whole frame of society, and which, +under some specious pretence of private duty, or the sanction of custom +and precedent, are almost permitted to assume the semblance of virtue, +or at least to pass unstigmatised in the crowd of congenial +transgressions. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ You may say what you please, sir. I am accustomed to +this language, and am quite callous to it, I assure you. I am in good +odour at court, sir; and you know, _Non cuivis homini contingit adire +Corinthum_. While I was out, sir, I made a great noise till I was let +in. There was a pack of us, sir, to keep up your canine metaphor: two or +three others got in at the same time: we knew very well that those who +were shut out would raise a hue and cry after us: it was perfectly +natural: we should have done the same in their place: mere envy and +malice, nothing more. Let them bark on: when they are either wanted or +troublesome, they will be let in, in their turn. If there be any man who +prefers a crust and water to venison and sack, I am not of his mind. It +is pretty and politic to make a virtue of necessity: but when there is +an end of the necessity I am very willing that there should be an end of +the virtue. _If you could live on roots_, said Diogenes to Aristippus, +_you would have nothing to do with kings_.—_If you could live on kings_, +replied Aristippus, _you would have nothing to do with roots_.—Every man +for himself, sir, and God for us all. + +_Mr. Derrydown._ The truth of things on this subject is contained in the +following stave: + + This world is a well-furnish’d table, + Where guests are promiscuously set: + We all fare as well as we’re able, + And scramble for what we can get. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Buz the bottle. + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ Over, by Jupiter! + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ No. + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ Yes. + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._ No. The baronet has a most mathematical eye. +Buzzed to a drop! + +_Mr. Forester._ Fortunately, sir, for the hopes of mankind, every man +does not bring his honour and conscience to market, though I admit the +majority do: there are some who dare be honest in the worst of times. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ Perhaps, sir, you are one of those who can _afford to +have a conscience_, and are therefore under no necessity of bringing it +to market. If so, you should ‘give God thanks, and make no boast of it.’ +It is a great luxury certainly, and well worth keeping, _caeteris +paribus_. But it is neither meat, clothes, nor fire. It becomes a good +coat well; but it will never make one. Poets are verbal musicians, and, +like other musicians, they have a right to sing and play, where they can +be best paid for their music. + +_Mr. Forester._ There could be no objection to that, if they would be +content to announce themselves as dealers and chapmen: but the poetical +character is too frequently a combination of the most arrogant and +exclusive assumption of freedom and independence in theory, with the +most abject and unqualified venality, servility, and sycophancy in +practice. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ It is _as notorious_, sir, _as the sun at noonday_, +that theory and practice are never expected to coincide. If a West +Indian planter declaims against the Algerines, do you expect him to lose +any favourable opportunity of increasing the number of his own slaves? +If an invaded country cries out against spoliation, do you suppose, if +the tables were turned, it would show its weaker neighbours the +forbearance it required? If an Opposition orator clamours for a reform +in Parliament, does any one dream that, if he gets into office, he will +ever say another word about it? If one of your reverend friends should +display his touching eloquence on the subject of temperance, would you +therefore have the barbarity to curtail him of one drop of his three +bottles? Truth and liberty, sir, are pretty words, very pretty words—a +few years ago they were the gods of the day—they superseded in poetry +the agency of mythology and magic: they were the only passports into the +poetical market: I acted accordingly the part of a prudent man: I took +my station, became my own crier, and vociferated Truth and Liberty, till +the noise I made brought people about me, to bid for me: and to the +highest bidder I knocked myself down, at less than I am worth certainly; +but when an article is not likely to keep, it is by no means prudent to +postpone the sale. + + What makes all doctrines plain and clear? + About two hundred pounds a year.— + And that which was proved true before, + Prove false again?—Two hundred more. + +_Mr. Hippy._ A dry discussion! Pass the bottle, and moisten it. + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ Here’s half of us fast asleep. Let us make a little +noise to wake us. A glee now: I’ll be one: who’ll join? + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ I. + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._ And I. + +_Mr. Hippy._ Strike up then. Silence! + + GLEE—THE GHOSTS + + In life three ghostly friars were we, + And now three friarly ghosts we be. + Around our shadowy table placed, + The spectral bowl before us floats: + With wine that none but ghosts can taste + We wash our unsubstantial throats. + Three merry ghosts—three merry ghosts—three merry ghosts are we: + Let the ocean be Port, and we’ll think it good sport + To be laid in that Red Sea. + + With songs that jovial spectres chaunt, + Our old refectory still we haunt. + The traveller hears our midnight mirth: + ‘O list!’ he cries, ‘the haunted choir! + The merriest ghost that walks the earth + Is sure the ghost of a ghostly friar.’ + Three merry ghosts—three merry ghosts—three merry ghosts are we: + Let the ocean be Port, and we’ll think it good sport + To be laid in that Red Sea. + +_Mr. Hippy._ Bravo! I should like to have my house so haunted. The deuce +is in it, if three such ghosts would not keep the blue devils at bay. +Come, we’ll lay them in a bumper of claret. + +(_Sir Oran Haut-ton took his flute from his pocket, and played over the +air of the glee. The company was at first extremely surprised, and then +joined in applauding his performance. Sir Oran bowed acknowledgment, and +returned his flute to his pocket._) + +_Mr. Forester._ It is, perhaps, happy for yourself, Mr. Feathernest, +that you can treat with so much levity a subject that fills me with the +deepest grief. Man under the influence of civilisation has fearfully +diminished in size and deteriorated in strength. The intellectual are +confessedly nourished at the expense of the physical faculties. Air, the +great source and fountain of health and life, can scarcely find access +to civilised man, muffled as he is in clothes, pent in houses, +smoke-dried in cities, half-roasted by artificial fire, and parboiled in +the hydrogen of crowded apartments. Diseases multiply upon him in +compound proportion. Even if the prosperous among us enjoy some comforts +unknown to the natural man, yet what is the poverty of the savage, +compared with that of the lowest classes of civilised nations? The +specious aspect of luxury and abundance in one is counterbalanced by the +abject penury and circumscription of hundreds. Commercial prosperity is +a golden surface, but all beneath it is rags and wretchedness. It is not +in the splendid bustle of our principal streets—in the villas and +mansions that sprinkle our valleys—for those who enjoy these things +(even if they did enjoy them—even if they had health and happiness—and +the rich have seldom either) bear but a small proportion to the whole +population:—but it is in the mud hovel of the labourer—in the cellar of +the artisan—in our crowded prisons—our swarming hospitals—our +overcharged workhouses—in those narrow districts of our overgrown cities +which the affluent never see—where thousands and thousands of families +are compressed within limits not sufficient for the pleasure-ground of a +simple squire,—that we must study the true mechanism of political +society. When the philosopher turns away in despair from this dreadful +accumulation of moral and physical evil, where is he to look for +consolation, if not in the progress of science, in the enlargement of +mind, in the diffusion of philosophical truth? But if truth is a +chimaera—if virtue is a name—if science is not the handmaid of moral +improvement, but the obsequious minister of recondite luxury, the +specious appendage of vanity and power—then indeed, _that man has fallen +never to rise again_,[46] is as much the cry of nature as the dream of +superstition. + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._ Man has fallen, certainly, by the fruit of the +tree of knowledge: which shows that human learning is vanity and a great +evil, and therefore very properly discountenanced by all bishops, +priests, and deacons. + +_Mr. Fax._ The picture which you have drawn of poverty is not very +tempting; and you must acknowledge that it is most galling to the most +refined feelings. You must not, therefore, wonder that it is peculiarly +obnoxious to the practical notions of poets. If the radiance of gold and +silver gleam not through the foliage of the Pierian laurel, there is +something to be said in their excuse if they carry their chaplet to +those who will gild its leaves; and in that case they will find their +best customers and patrons among those who are ambitious of acquiring +panegyric by a more compendious method than the troublesome practice of +the virtues that deserve it. + +_Mr. Forester._ You have quoted Juvenal, but you should have completed +the sentence: ‘If you see no glimpse of coin in the Pierian shade, you +will prefer the name and occupation of a barber or an auctioneer.’[47] +This is most just: if the pursuits of literature, conscientiously +conducted, condemn their votary to famine, let him live by more humble, +but at least by honest, and therefore honourable occupations: he may +still devote his leisure to his favourite pursuits. If he produce but a +single volume consecrated to moral truth, its effect must be good as far +as it goes; but if he purchase leisure and luxury by the prostitution of +talent to the cause of superstition and tyranny, every new exertion of +his powers is a new outrage to reason and virtue, and in precise +proportion to those powers is he a curse to his country and a traitor to +mankind. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ A barber, sir!—a man of genius turn barber! + +_Mr. O’Scarum._ Troth, sir, and I think it is better he should be in the +suds himself, than help to bring his country into that situation. + +_Mr. Forester._ I can perceive, sir, in your exclamation the principle +that has caused so enormous a superabundance in the number of bad books +over that of good ones. The objects of the majority of men of talent +seem to be exclusively two: the first, to convince the world of their +transcendent abilities; the second, to convert that conviction into a +source of the greatest possible pecuniary benefit to themselves. But +there is no class of men more resolutely indifferent to the moral +tendency of the means by which their ends are accomplished. Yet this is +the most extensively pernicious of all modes of dishonesty; for that of +a private man can only injure the pockets of a few individuals (a great +evil, certainly, but light in comparison); while that of a public +writer, who has previously taught the multitude to respect his talents, +perverts what is much more valuable, the mental progress of thousands; +misleading, on the one hand, the shallow believers in his sincerity; and +on the other, stigmatising the whole literary character in the opinions +of all who see through the veil of his venality. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ All this is no reason, sir, why a man of genius +should condescend to be a barber. + +_Mr. Forester._ He condescends much more in being a sycophant. The +poorest barber in the poorest borough in England, who will not sell his +vote, is a much more honourable character in the estimate of moral +comparison than the most self-satisfied dealer in courtly poetry, whose +well-paid eulogiums of licentiousness and corruption were ever re-echoed +by the ‘most sweet voices’ of hireling gazetteers and pensioned +reviewers. + +The summons to tea and coffee put a stop to the conversation. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + MUSIC AND DISCORD + + +The evenings were beginning to give symptoms of winter, and a large fire +was blazing in the library. Mr. Forester took the opportunity of +stigmatising the use of sugar, and had the pleasure of observing that +the practice of Anthelia in this respect was the same as his own. He +mentioned his intention of giving an anti-saccharine festival at Redrose +Abbey, and invited all the party at Melincourt to attend it. He observed +that his aunt, Miss Evergreen, who would be there at the time, would +send an invitation in due form to the ladies, to remove all scruples on +the score of propriety; and added, that if he could hope for the +attendance of half as much moral feeling as he was sure there would be +of beauty and fashion, he should be satisfied that a great step would be +made towards accomplishing the object of the Anti-saccharine Society. + +The Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub felt extremely indignant at Mr. Forester’s +notion ‘of every real enemy to slavery being bound by the strictest +moral duty to practical abstinence from the luxury which slavery +acquires’; but when he found that the notion was to be developed in the +shape of a festival, he determined to suspend his judgment till he had +digested the solid arguments that were to be brought forward on the +occasion. + +Mr. O’Scarum was, as usual, very clamorous for music, and was seconded +by the unanimous wish of the company, with which Anthelia readily +complied, and sang as follows: + + THE FLOWER OF LOVE + + ’Tis said the rose is Love’s own flower, + Its blush so bright, its thorns so many; + And winter on its bloom has power, + But has not on its sweetness any. + For though young Love’s ethereal rose + Will droop on Age’s wintry bosom, + Yet still its faded leaves disclose + The fragrance of their earliest blossom. + + But ah! the fragrance lingering there + Is like the sweets that mournful duty + Bestows with sadly-soothing care, + To deck the grave of bloom and beauty. + For when its leaves are shrunk and dry, + Its blush extinct, to kindle never, + That fragrance is but Memory’s sigh, + That breathes of pleasures past for ever. + + Why did not Love the amaranth choose, + That bears no thorns, and cannot perish? + Alas! no sweets its flowers diffuse, + And only sweets Love’s life can cherish. + But be the rose and amaranth twined, + And Love, their mingled powers assuming, + Shall round his brows a chaplet bind, + For ever sweet, for ever blooming. + +‘I am afraid,’ said Mr. Derrydown, ‘the flower of modern love is neither +the rose nor the amaranth, but the _chrysanthemum_, or _gold-flower_. If +Miss Danaretta and Mr. O’Scarum will accompany me, we will sing a little +harmonised ballad, something in point, and rather more conformable to +the truth of things.’ Mr. O’Scarum and Miss Danaretta consented, and +they accordingly sang the following:— + + BALLAD TERZETTO—THE LADY, THE KNIGHT, AND THE FRIAR + + THE LADY + + O cavalier! what dost thou here, + Thy tuneful vigils keeping; + While the northern star looks cold from far, + And half the world is sleeping? + + + THE KNIGHT + + O lady! here, for seven long year, + Have I been nightly sighing, + Without the hope of a single tear + To pity me were I dying. + + + THE LADY + + Should I take thee to have and to hold, + Who hast nor lands nor money? + Alas! ’tis only in flowers of gold + That married bees find honey. + + + THE KNIGHT + + O lady fair! to my constant prayer + Fate proves at last propitious: + And bags of gold in my hand I bear, + And parchment scrolls delicious. + + + THE LADY + + My maid the door shall open throw, + For we too long have tarried: + The friar keeps watch in the cellar below, + And we will at once be married. + + + THE FRIAR + + My children! great is Fortune’s power; + And plain this truth appears, + That gold thrives more in a single hour + Than love in seven long years. + +During this terzetto the Reverend Mr. Portpipe fell asleep, and +accompanied the performance with rather a deeper bass than was generally +deemed harmonious. + +Sir Telegraph Paxarett took Mr. Forester aside, to consult him on the +subject of the journey to Onevote. + +‘I have asked,’ said he, ‘my aunt and cousin, Mrs. and Miss Pinmoney, to +join the party, and have requested them to exert their influence with +Miss Melincourt to induce her to accompany them.’ + +‘That would make it a delightful expedition, indeed,’ said Mr. Forester, +‘if Miss Melincourt could be prevailed on to comply.’ + +‘_Nil desperandum_,’ said Sir Telegraph. + +The Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney drew Anthelia into a corner, and developed +all her eloquence in enforcing the proposition. Miss Danaretta joined in +it with great earnestness; and they kept up the fire of their +importunity till they extorted from Anthelia a promise that she would +consider of it. + +Mr. Forester took down a splendid edition of Tasso, printed by Bodoni at +Parma, and found it ornamented with Anthelia’s drawings. In the magic of +her pencil the wild and wonderful scenes of Tasso seemed to live under +his eyes: he could not forbear expressing to her the delight he +experienced from these new proofs of her sensibility and genius, and +entered into a conversation with her concerning her favourite poet, in +which the congeniality of their tastes and feelings became more and more +manifest to each other. + +Mr. Feathernest and Mr. Derrydown got into a hot dispute over Chapman’s +_Homer_ and Jeremy Taylor’s _Holy Living_: Mr. Derrydown maintaining +that the ballad metre which Chapman had so judiciously chosen rendered +his volume the most divine poem in the world; Mr. Feathernest asserting +that Chapman’s verses were mere doggerel: which vile aspersion Mr. +Derrydown revenged by depreciating Mr. Feathernest’s favourite Jeremy. +Mr. Feathernest said he could expect no better judgment from a man who +was mad enough to prefer _Chevy Chase_ to _Paradise Lost_; and Mr. +Derrydown retorted, that it was idle to expect either taste or justice +from one who had thought fit to unite in himself two characters so +anomalous as those of a poet and a critic, in which duplex capacity he +had first deluged the world with torrents of execrable verses, and then +written anonymous criticisms to prove them divine. ‘Do you think, sir,’ +he continued, ‘that it is possible for the same man to be both Homer and +Aristotle? No, sir; but it is very possible to be both Dennis and Colley +Cibber, as in the melancholy example before me.’ + +At this all the blood of the _genus irritabile_ boiled in Mr. +Feathernest’s veins, and uplifting the ponderous folio, he seemed +inclined to bury his antagonist under Jeremy’s _weight of words_, by +applying them in a _tangible shape_; but wisely recollecting that this +was not the time and place + + To prove his doctrine orthodox + By apostolic blows and knocks, + +he contented himself with a point-blank denial of the charge that he +wrote critiques on his own works, protesting that all the articles on +his poems were written either by his friend Mr. Mystic, of Cimmerian +Lodge, or by Mr. Vamp, the amiable editor of the _Legitimate Review_. +‘Yes,’ said Mr. Derrydown, ‘on the “_Tickle me, Mr. Hayley_” principle; +by which a miserable cabal of doggerel rhymesters and worn-out +paragraph-mongers of bankrupt gazettes ring the eternal changes of +panegyric on each other, and on everything else that is either rich +enough to buy their praise, or vile enough to deserve it: like a gang in +a country steeple, paid for being a public nuisance, and maintaining +that noise is melody.’ + +Mr. Feathernest on this became perfectly outrageous; and waving Jeremy +Taylor in the air, exclaimed, ‘_Oh that mine enemy had written a book!_ +Horrible should be the vengeance of the _Legitimate Review_!’ + +Mr. Hippy now deemed it expedient to interpose for the restoration of +order, and entreated Anthelia to throw in a little musical harmony as a +sedative to the ebullitions of a poetical discord. At the sound of the +harp the antagonists turned away, the one flourishing his Chapman and +the other his Jeremy with looks of lofty defiance. + +[Illustration: _He managed so skilfully that his Lordship became himself +the proposer of the scheme._] + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + THE STRATAGEM + + +The Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, who had acquired a great proficiency in the +art of hearing without seeming to listen, had overheard Mrs. Pinmoney’s +request to Anthelia; and, notwithstanding the young lady’s hesitation, +he very much feared she would ultimately comply. He had seen, much +against his will, a great congeniality in feelings and opinions between +her and Mr. Forester, and had noticed some unconscious external +manifestations of the interior mind on both sides, some outward and +visible signs of the inward and spiritual sentiment, which convinced him +that a more intimate acquaintance with each other would lead them to a +conclusion, which, for the reasons we have given in the ninth chapter, +he had no wish to see established. After long and mature deliberation, +he determined to rouse Lord Anophel to a sense of his danger, and spirit +him up to an immediate _coup-de-main_. He calculated that, as the young +Lord was a spoiled child, immoderately vain, passably foolish, and +totally unused to contradiction, he should have little difficulty in +moulding him to his views. His plan was, that Lord Anophel, with two or +three confidential fellows, should lie in ambush for Anthelia in one of +her solitary rambles, and convey her to a lonely castle of his +Lordship’s on the seacoast, with a view of keeping her in close custody, +till fair means or foul should induce her to regain her liberty in the +character of Lady Achthar. This was to be Lord Anophel’s view of the +subject; but the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub had in the inner cave of his +perceptions a very promising image of a different result. As he would +have free access to Anthelia in her confinement, he intended to worm +himself into her favour, under the cover of friendship and sympathy, +with the most ardent professions of devotion to her cause and promises +of endeavours to effect her emancipation, involving the accomplishment +of this object in a multitude of imaginary difficulties, which it should +be his professed study to vanquish. He deemed it very probable that, by +a skilful adoperation of these means, and by moulding Lord Anophel, at +the same time, into a system of conduct as disagreeable as possible to +Anthelia, he might himself become the lord and master of the lands and +castle of Melincourt, when he would edify the country with the example +of his truly orthodox life, faring sumptuously every day, raising the +rents of his tenants, turning out all who were in arrear, and +occasionally treating the rest with discourses on temperance and +charity. + +With these ideas in his head, he went in search of Lord Anophel, and +proceeding _pedetentim_, and opening the subject _peirastically_, he +managed so skilfully that his Lordship became himself the proposer of +the scheme, with which the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub seemed unwillingly to +acquiesce. + +Mr. Forester, Mr. Fax, and Sir Oran Haut-ton took leave of the party at +Melincourt Castle; the former having arranged with Sir Telegraph +Paxarett that he was to call for them at Redrose Abbey in the course of +three days, and reiterated his earnest hopes that Anthelia would be +persuaded to accompany Mrs. Pinmoney and her beautiful daughter in the +expedition to Onevote. + +Lord Anophel Achthar and the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub also took leave, as +a matter of policy, that their disappearance at the same time with +Anthelia might not excite surprise. They pretended a pressing temporary +engagement in a distant part of the country, and carried off with them +Mr. Feathernest the poet, whom, nevertheless, they did not deem it +prudent to let into the secret of their scheme. + +[Illustration: _She thought there was something peculiar in his look._] + +The next day Anthelia, still undecided on this subject, wandered alone +to the ruined bridge, to contemplate the scene of her former +misadventure. As she ascended the hill that bounded the valley of +Melincourt, a countryman crossed her path, and touching his hat passed +on. She thought there was something peculiar in his look, but had quite +forgotten him, when, on looking back as she descended on the other side, +she observed him making signs, as if to some one at a distance: she +could not, however, consider that they had any relation to her. The day +was clear and sunny; and when she entered the pine-grove, the gloom of +its tufted foliage, with the sunbeams chequering the dark-red soil, +formed a grateful contrast to the naked rocks and heathy mountains that +lay around it, in the full blaze of daylight. In many parts of the grove +was a luxuriant laurel underwood, glittering like silver in the partial +sunbeams that penetrated the interstices of the pines. Few scenes in +nature have a more mysterious solemnity than such a scene as this. +Anthelia paused a moment. She thought she heard a rustling in the +laurels, but all was again still. She proceeded; the rustling was +renewed. She felt alarmed, yet she knew not why, and reproached herself +for such idle and unaccustomed apprehensions. She paused again to +listen; the soft tones of a flute sounded from a distance: these gave +her confidence, and she again proceeded. She passed by the tuft of +laurels in which she had heard the rustling. Suddenly a mantle was +thrown over her. She was wrapped in darkness, and felt that she was +forcibly seized by several persons, who carried her rapidly along. She +screamed, but the mantle was immediately pressed on her mouth, and she +was hurried onward. After a time the party stopped: a tumult ensued: she +found herself at liberty, and threw the mantle from her head. She was on +a road at the verge of the pine-grove: a chaise-and-four was waiting. +Two men were running away in the distance: two others, muffled and +masked, were rolling on the ground, and roaring for mercy, while Sir +Oran Haut-ton was standing over them with a stick,[48] and treating them +as if he were a thresher and they were sheaves of corn. By her side was +Mr. Forester, who, taking her hand, assured her that she was in safety, +while at the same time he endeavoured to assuage Sir Oran’s wrath, that +he might raise and unmask the fallen foes. Sir Oran, however, proceeded +in his summary administration of natural justice till he had dispensed +what was to his notion a _quantum sufficit_ of the application: then +throwing his stick aside, he caught them both up, one under each arm, +and climbing with great dexterity a high and precipitous rock, left them +perched upon its summit, bringing away their masks in his hand, and +making them a profound bow at taking leave.[49] + +Mr. Forester was anxious to follow them to their aerial seat, that he +might ascertain who they were, which Sir Oran’s precipitation had put it +out of his power to do; but Anthelia begged him to return with her +immediately to the Castle, assuring him that she thought them already +sufficiently punished, and had no apprehension that they would feel +tempted again to molest her. + +Sir Oran now opened the chaise-door, and drew out the postboys by the +leg, who, at the beginning of the fray, had concealed themselves from +his fury under the seat. Mr. Forester succeeded in rescuing them from +Sir Oran, and endeavoured to extract from them information as to their +employers: but the boys declared that they knew nothing of them, the +chaise having been ordered by a strange man to be in waiting at that +place, and the hire paid in advance. + +Anthelia, as she walked homeward, leaning on Mr. Forester’s arm, +inquired to what happy accident she was indebted for the timely +intervention of himself and Sir Oran Haut-ton. Mr. Forester informed +her, that having a great wish to visit the scene which had been the +means of introducing him to her acquaintance, he had made Sir Oran +understand his desire, and they had accordingly set out together, +leaving Mr. Fax at Redrose Abbey, deeply engaged in the solution of a +problem in political arithmetic. + +[Illustration: _He caught them both up, one under each arm._] + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + THE EXCURSION + + +Anthelia found, from what Mr. Forester had said, that she had excited a +much greater interest in his mind than she had previously supposed; and +she did not dissemble to herself that the interest was reciprocal. The +occurrence of the morning, by taking the feeling of safety from her +solitary walks, and unhinging her long associations with the freedom and +security of her native mountains, gave her an inclination to depart for +a time at least from Melincourt Castle; and this inclination, combining +with the wish to see more of one who appeared to possess so much +intellectual superiority to the generality of mankind, rendered her very +flexible to Mrs. Pinmoney’s wishes, when that honourable lady renewed +her solicitations to her to join the expedition to Onevote. Anthelia, +however, desired that Mr. Hippy might be of the party, and that her +going in Sir Telegraph’s carriage should not be construed in any degree +into a reception of his addresses. The Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney, +delighted to carry her point, readily complied with the condition, +trusting to the influence of time and intimacy to promote her own wishes +and the happiness of her dear nephew. + +Mr. Hippy was so overjoyed at the project, that, in the first +ebullitions of his transport, meeting Harry Fell on the landing-place, +with a packet of medicine from Dr. Killquick, he seized him by the arm, +and made him dance a _pas de deux_: the packet fell to the earth, and +Mr. Hippy, as he whirled old Harry round to the tune of _La Belle +Laitière_, danced over that which, but for this timely demolition, might +have given his heir an opportunity of dancing over him. + +It was accordingly arranged that Sir Telegraph Paxarett, with the ladies +and Mr. Hippy, should call on the appointed day at Redrose Abbey for Mr. +Forester, Mr. Fax, and Sir Oran Haut-ton. + +Mr. Derrydown and Mr. O’Scarum were inconsolable on the occasion, +notwithstanding Mr. Hippy’s assurance that they should very soon return, +and that the hospitality of Melincourt Castle should then be resumed +under his supreme jurisdiction. Mr. Derrydown determined to consume the +interval at Keswick, in the composition of dismal ballads; and Mr. +O’Scarum to proceed to Low-wood Inn, and drown his cares in claret with +Major O’Dogskin. + +We shall pass over the interval till the arrival of the eventful day on +which Mr. Forester, from the windows of Redrose Abbey, watched the +approach of Sir Telegraph’s barouche. The party from Melincourt arrived, +as had been concerted, to breakfast; after which, they surveyed the +Abbey, and perambulated the grounds. Mr. Forester produced the Abbot’s +skull,[50] and took occasion to expatiate very largely on the diminution +of the size of mankind; illustrating his theory by quotations and +anecdotes from Homer,[51] Herodotus[52] Arrian, Plutarch, Philostratus, +Pausanias, and Solinus Polyhistor. He asked if it were possible that men +of such a stature as they have dwindled to in the present age could have +erected that stupendous monument of human strength, Stonehenge? in the +vicinity of which, he said, a body had been dug up, measuring fourteen +feet ten inches in length.[53] + +The barouche bowled off from the Abbey gates, carrying four inside, and +eight out; videlicet, the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney, Miss Danaretta, Mr. +Hippy, and Anthelia, inside; Sir Telegraph Paxarett and Sir Oran +Haut-ton on the box, the former with his whip, and the latter with his +French horn, in the characters of coachman and guard; Mr. Forester and +Mr. Fax in the front of the roof; and Sir Telegraph’s two grooms, with +Peter Gray and Harry Fell, behind. Sir Telegraph’s coachman, as the +inside of the carriage was occupied, had been left at Melincourt. + +In addition to Sir Telegraph’s travelling library—(which consisted +of a single quarto volume, magnificently bound: videlicet, a Greek +Pindar, which Sir Telegraph always carried with him; not that he +ever read a page of it, but that he thought such a classical +inside passenger would be a perpetual vindication of his +tethrippharmatelasipedioploctypophilous pursuits), Anthelia and +Mr. Forester had taken with them a few of their favourite authors; +for, as the ancient and honourable borough of Onevote was situated +almost at the extremity of the kingdom, and as Sir Telegraph’s +diurnal stages were necessarily limited, they had both conjectured +that + + the poet’s page, by one + Made vocal for the amusement of the rest, + +might furnish an agreeable evening employment in the dearth of +conversation. Anthelia also, in compliance with the general desire, had +taken her lyre, by which the reader may understand, if he pleases, the +_harp-lute-guitar_; which, whatever be its merit as an instrument, has +so unfortunate an appellation, that we cannot think of dislocating our +pages with such a cacophonous compound. + +They made but a short stage from Redrose Abbey, and stopped for the +first evening at Low-wood Inn, to the great joy of Mr. O’Scarum and +Major O’Dogskin. Mr. O’Scarum introduced the Major; and both offered +their services to assist Mr. Hippy and Sir Telegraph Paxarett in the +council they were holding with the landlady on the eventful subject of +dinner. This being arranged, and the hour and minute punctually +specified, it was proposed to employ the interval in a little excursion +on the lake. The party was distributed in two boats: Sir Telegraph’s +grooms rowing the one, and Peter Gray and Harry Fell the other. They +rowed to the middle of the lake, and rested on their oars. The sun sank +behind the summits of the western mountains: the clouds that, like other +mountains, rested motionless above them, crested with the towers and +battlements of aerial castles, changed by degrees from fleecy whiteness +to the deepest hues of crimson. A solitary cloud, resting on an eastern +pinnacle, became tinged with the reflected splendour of the west: the +clouds overhead spreading, like a uniform veil of network, through the +interstices of which the sky was visible, caught in their turn the +radiance, and reflected it on the lake, that lay in its calm expanse +like a mirror, imaging with such stillness and accuracy the forms and +colours of all around and above it, that it seemed as if the waters were +withdrawn by magic, and the boats floated in crimson light between the +mountains and the sky. + +The whole party was silent, even the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney, till Mr. +O’Scarum entreated Anthelia to sing ‘something neat and characteristic; +or a harmony now for three voices, would be the killing thing; eh! +Major?’—‘Indeed and it would,’ said Major O’Dogskin; ‘there’s something +very soft and pathetic in a cool evening on the water, to sit still +doing nothing at all but listening to pretty words and tender melodies.’ +And lest the sincerity of his opinion should be questioned, he +accompanied it with an emphatical oath, to show that he was in earnest; +for which the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney called him to order. + +Major O’Dogskin explained. + +Anthelia, accompanied by Miss Danaretta and Mr. O’Scarum, sang the +following + + TERZETTO + + 1. Hark! o’er the silent waters stealing, + The dash of oars sounds soft and clear: + Through night’s deep veil, all forms concealing, + Nearer it comes, and yet more near. + + 2. See! where the long reflection glistens, + In yon lone tower her watch-light burns: + 3. To hear our distant oars she listens, + And, listening, strikes the harp by turns. + + 1. The stars are bright, the skies unclouded; + No moonbeam shines; no breezes wake. + Is it my love, in darkness shrouded, + Whose dashing oar disturbs the lake? + + 2. O haste, sweet maid, the cords unrolling; + 1. The holy hermit chides our stay! + 2. 3. Hark! from his lonely islet tolling, + His midnight bell shall guide our way. + +Sir Oran Haut-ton now produced his flute, and treated the company with a +solo. Another pause succeeded. The contemplative silence was broken by +Major O’Dogskin, who began to fidget about in the boat, and drawing his +watch from his fob held it up to Mr. Hippy, and asked him if he did not +think the partridges would be spoiled? ‘To be sure they will,’ said Mr. +Hippy, ‘unless we make the best of our way. Cold comfort this, after +all: sharp air and water;—give me a roaring fire and a six-bottle cooper +of claret.’ + +The oars were dashed into the water, and the fairy reflections of +clouds, rocks, woods, and mountains were mingled in the confusion of +chaos. The reader will naturally expect that, having two lovers on a +lake, we shall not lose the opportunity of throwing the lady into the +water, and making the gentleman fish her out; but whether that our +Thalia is too veridicous to permit this distortion of facts, or that we +think it the more original incident to return them to the shore as dry +as they left it, the reader must submit to the disappointment, and be +content to see the whole party comfortably seated, without let, +hindrance, or molestation, at a very excellent dinner, served up under +the judicious inspection of mine hostess of Low-wood. + +The heroes and heroines of Homer used to eat and drink all day till the +setting sun;[54] and by dint of industry, contrived to finish that +important business by the usual period at which modern beaux and belles +begin it—who are, therefore, necessitated, like Penelope, to sit up all +night; not, indeed, to destroy the works of the day, for how can nothing +be annihilated? This does not apply to all our party, and we hope not to +many of our readers. + + + + + CHAPTER XX + THE SEA-SHORE + + +They stopped the next evening at a village on the sea-shore. The wind +rose in the night, but without rain. Mr. Forester was up before the sun, +and descending to the beach, found Anthelia there before him, sitting on +a rock, and listening to the dash of the waves, like a Nereid to +Triton’s shell. + +_Mr. Forester._ You are an early riser, Miss Melincourt. + +_Anthelia._ I always was so. The morning is the infancy of the day, and, +like the infancy of life, has health and bloom, and cheerfulness and +purity, in a degree unknown to the busy noon, which is the season of +care, or the languid evening, which is the harbinger of repose. Perhaps +the song of the nightingale is not in itself less cheerful than that of +the lark: it is the season of her song that invests it with the +character of melancholy.[55] It is the same with the associations of +infancy: it is all cheerfulness, all hope: its path is on the flowers of +an untried world. The daisy has more beauty in the eye of childhood than +the rose in that of maturer life. The spring is the infancy of the year: +its flowers are the flowers of promise and the darlings of poetry. The +autumn, too, has its flowers; but they are little loved, and little +praised: for the associations of autumn are not with ideas of +cheerfulness, but with yellow leaves and hollow winds, heralds of winter +and emblems of dissolution. + +_Mr. Forester._ These reflections have more in them of the autumn than +of the morning. But the mornings of autumn participate in the character +of the season. + +_Anthelia._ They do so; yet even in mists and storms the opening must be +always more cheerful than the closing day. + +_Mr. Forester._ But this morning is fine and clear, and the wind blows +over the sea. Yet this, to me at least, is not a cheerful scene. + +_Anthelia._ Nor to me. But our long habits of association with the sound +of the winds and the waters have given them to us a voice of melancholy +majesty: a voice not audible by those little children who are playing +yonder on the shore. To them all scenes are cheerful. It is the morning +of life: it is infancy that makes them so. + +_Mr. Forester._ Fresh air and liberty are all that is necessary to the +happiness of children. In that blissful age ‘when nature’s self is new,’ +the bloom of interest and beauty is found alike in every object of +perception—in the grass of the meadow, the moss on the rock, and the +seaweed on the sand. They find gems and treasures in shells and pebbles; +and the gardens of fairyland in the simplest flowers. They have no +melancholy associations with autumn or with evening. The falling leaves +are their playthings; and the setting sun only tells them that they must +go to rest as he does, and that he will light them to their sports in +the morning. It is this bloom of novelty, and the pure, unclouded, +unvitiated feelings with which it is contemplated, that throw such an +unearthly radiance on the scenes of our infancy, however humble in +themselves, and give a charm to their recollections which not even Tempe +can compensate. It is the force of first impressions. The first meadow +in which we gather cowslips, the first stream on which we sail, the +first home in which we awake to the sense of human sympathy, have all a +peculiar and exclusive charm, which we shall never find again in richer +meadows, mightier rivers, and more magnificent dwellings; nor even in +themselves, when we revisit them after the lapse of years, and the sad +realities of noon have dissipated the illusions of sunrise. It is the +same, too, with first love, whatever be the causes that render it +unsuccessful: the second choice may have just preponderance in the +balance of moral estimation; but the object of first affection, of all +the perceptions of our being, will be most divested of the attributes of +mortality. The magical associations of infancy are revived with double +power in the feelings of first love; but when they too have departed, +then, indeed, the light of the morning is gone. + +[Illustration: _Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of +Mr. Hippy._] + + Pensa che questo di mai non raggiorna! + +_Anthelia._ If this be so, let me never be the object of a second +choice: let me never love, or love but once. + +_Mr. Forester._ The object of a second choice you cannot be with any one +who will deserve your love; for to have loved any other woman, would +show a heart too lightly captivated to be worthy of yours. The only mind +that can deserve to love you is one that would never have known love if +it never had known you. + +Anthelia and Mr. Forester were both so unfashionably sincere, that they +would probably, in a very few minutes, have confessed to each other more +than they had till that morning, perhaps, confessed to themselves, but +that their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Hippy +fuming for his breakfast, accompanied by Sir Telegraph cracking his +whip, and Sir Oran blowing the réveillée on his French horn. + +‘So ho!’ exclaimed Sir Telegraph; ‘Achilles and Thetis, I protest, +consulting on the sea-shore.’ + +_Anthelia._ Do you mean to say, Sir Telegraph, that I am old enough to +be Mr. Forester’s mother? + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ No, no; that is no part of the comparison; but +we are the ambassadors of Agamemnon (videlicet, Mr. Fax, whom we left +very busily arranging the urns, not of lots by the bye, but of tea and +coffee); here is old Phoenix on one side of me, and Ajax on the other. + +_Mr. Forester._ And you of course are the wise Ulysses. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ There the simile fails again. _Comparatio non +urgenda_, as I think Heyne used to say, before I was laughed out of +reading at College. + +_Mr. Forester._ You should have found me too, if you call me Achilles, +solacing my mind with music, φρενα τερπομενον φορμιγγι λιγειῃ; but, to +make amends for the deficiency, you have brought me a musical Ajax. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ You have no reason to wish even for the golden +lyre of my old friend Pindar himself: you have been listening to the +music of the winds and the waters, and to what is more than music, the +voice of Miss Melincourt. + +_Mr. Hippy._ And there is a very pretty concert waiting for you at the +inn—the tinkling of cups and spoons, and the divine song of the tea-urn. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + THE CITY OF NOVOTE + + +On the evening of the tenth day the barouche rattled triumphantly into +the large and populous city of Novote, which was situated at a short +distance from the ancient and honourable borough of Onevote. The city +contained fifty thousand inhabitants, and had no representative in the +Honourable House, the deficiency being virtually supplied by the two +members for Onevote; who, having no affairs to attend to for the +borough, or rather the burgess, that did return them, were supposed to +have more leisure for those of the city which did not; a system somewhat +analogous to that which the learned author of _Hermes_ calls _a method +of supply by negation_. + +Sir Oran signalised his own entrance by playing on his French horn, _See +the conquering hero comes!_ Bells were ringing, ale was flowing, mobs +were huzzaing, and it seemed as if the inhabitants of the large and +populous city were satisfied of the truth of the admirable doctrine, +that the positive representation of one individual is a virtual +representation of fifty thousand. They found afterwards that all this +festivity had been set in motion by Sir Oran’s brother candidate, Simon +Sarcastic, Esq., to whom we shall shortly introduce our readers. + +The barouche stopped at the door of a magnificent inn, and the party was +welcomed with some scores of bows from the whole _corps d’hôtel_, with +the fat landlady in the van, and Boots in the rear. They were shown into +a splendid apartment, a glorious fire was kindled in a minute, and while +Mr. Hippy looked over the bill of fare, and followed mine hostess to +inspect the state of the larder, Sir Telegraph proceeded to _peel_, and +emerged from his four _benjamins_, like a butterfly from its chrysalis. + +After dinner they formed, as usual, a semicircle round the fire, with +the table in front supported by Mr. Hippy and Sir Telegraph Paxarett. + +‘Now this,’ said Sir Telegraph, rubbing his hands, ‘is what I call +devilish comfortable after a cold day’s drive—an excellent inn, a superb +fire, charming company, and better wine than has fallen to our lot since +we left Melincourt Castle.’ + +The waiter had picked up from the conversation at dinner that one of the +destined members for Onevote was in the company; and communicated this +intelligence to Mr. Sarcastic, who was taking his solitary bottle in +another apartment. Mr. Sarcastic sent his compliments to Sir Oran +Haut-ton, and hoped he would allow his future colleague the honour of +being admitted to join his party. Mr. Hippy, Mr. Forester, and Sir +Telegraph, undertook to answer for Sir Oran, who was silent on the +occasion: Mr. Sarcastic was introduced, and took his seat in the +semicircle. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Your future colleague, Mr. Sarcastic, is _a +man of few words_; but he will join in a bumper to your better +acquaintance. (_The collision of glasses ensued between Sir Oran and Mr. +Sarcastic._) + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ I am proud of the opportunity of this introduction. The +day after to-morrow is fixed for the election. I have made some +preparations to give a little _éclat_ to the affair, and have begun by +intoxicating half the city of Novote, so that we shall have a great +crowd at the scene of election, whom I intend to harangue from the +hustings, on the great benefits and blessings of virtual representation. + +_Mr. Forester._ I shall, perhaps, take the opportunity of addressing +them also, but with a different view of the subject. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ Perhaps our views of the subject are not radically +different, and the variety is in the mode of treatment. In my ordinary +intercourse with the world I reduce practice to theory; it is a habit, I +believe, peculiar to myself, and a source of inexhaustible amusement. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Fill and explain. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ Nothing, you well know, is so rare as the coincidence +of theory and practice. A man who ‘will go through fire and water to +serve a friend’ in words, will not give five guineas to save him from +famine. A poet will write Odes to Independence, and become the +obsequious parasite of any great man who will hire him. A burgess will +hold up one hand for purity of election, while the price of his own vote +is slily dropped into the other. I need not accumulate instances. + +_Mr. Forester._ You would find it difficult, I fear, to adduce many to +the contrary. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ This then is my system. I ascertain the practice of +those I talk to, and present it to them as from myself, in the shape of +theory; the consequence of which is, that I am universally stigmatised +as a promulgator of rascally doctrines. Thus I said to Sir Oliver +Oilcake, ‘When I get into Parliament I intend to make the sale of my +vote as notorious as the sun at noonday. I will have no rule of right, +but my own pocket. I will support every measure of every administration, +even if they ruin half the nation for the purpose of restoring the Great +Lama, or of subjecting twenty millions of people to be hanged, drawn, +and quartered at the pleasure of the man-milliner of Mahomet’s mother. I +will have shiploads of turtle and rivers of Madeira for myself, if I +send the whole swinish multitude to draff and husks.’ Sir Oliver flew +into a rage, and swore he would hold no further intercourse with a man +who maintained such infamous principles. + +_Mr. Hippy._ Pleasant enough, to show a man his own picture, and make +him damn the ugly rascal. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ I said to Miss Pennylove, whom I knew to be _laying +herself out for a good match_, ‘When my daughter becomes of marriageable +age, I shall commission Christie to put her up to auction, “the highest +bidder to be the buyer; and if any dispute arise between two or more +bidders, the lot to be put up again and resold.”’ Miss Pennylove +professed herself utterly amazed and indignant that any man, and a +father especially, should imagine a scheme so outrageous to the dignity +and delicacy of the female mind. + +_The Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney and Miss Danaretta._ A most horrid idea +certainly. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ The fact, my dear ladies, the fact; how stands the +fact? Miss Pennylove afterwards married a man old enough to be her +grandfather, for no other reason but because he was rich; and broke the +heart of a very worthy friend of mine, to whom she had been previously +engaged, who had no fault but the folly of loving her, and was quite +rich enough for all purposes of matrimonial happiness. How the dignity +and delicacy of such a person could have been affected, if the +preliminary negotiation with her hobbling Strephon had been conducted +through the instrumentality of honest Christie’s hammer, I cannot +possibly imagine. + +_Mr. Hippy._ Nor I, I must say. All the difference is in the form, and +not in the fact. It is a pity that form does not come into fashion; it +would save a world of trouble. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ I irreparably offended the Reverend Doctor Vorax by +telling him, that having a nephew, whom I wished to shine in the church, +I was on the look-out for a luminous butler, and a cook of solid +capacity, under whose joint tuition he might graduate. ‘Who knows,’ said +I, ‘but he may immortalise himself at the University, by giving his name +to a pudding?’—I lost the acquaintance of Mrs. Cullender, by saying to +her, when she had told me a piece of gossip as a very particular secret, +that there was nothing so agreeable to me as to be in possession of a +secret, for I made a point of telling it to all my acquaintance; + + Intrusted under solemn vows, + Of Mum, and Silence, and the Rose, + To be retailed again in whispers, + For the easy credulous to disperse.[56] + +Mrs. Cullender left me in great wrath, protesting she would never again +throw away _her_ confidence on so leaky a vessel. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Ha! ha! ha! Bravo! Come, a bumper to Mrs. +Cullender. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ With all my heart; and another if you please to Mr. +Christopher Corporate, the free, fat, and dependent burgess of Onevote, +of which ‘plural unit’ the Honourable Baronet and myself are to be the +joint representatives. (_Sir Oran Haut-ton bowed._) + +_Mr. Hippy._ And a third, by all means, to his Grace the Duke of +Rottenburgh. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ And a fourth, to crown all, to _the blessings of +virtual representation_, which I shall endeavour to impress on as many +of the worthy citizens of Novote as shall think fit to be present, the +day after to-morrow, at the proceedings of the borough of Onevote. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ And now for tea and coffee. Touch the bell for +the waiter. + +The bottles and glasses vanished, and the beautiful array of urns and +cups succeeded. Sir Telegraph and Mr. Hippy seceded from the table, and +resigned their stations to Mrs. and Miss Pinmoney. + +_Mr. Forester._ Your system is sufficiently amusing, but I much question +its utility. The object of moral censure is reformation, and its proper +vehicle is plain and fearless sincerity: VERBA ANIMI PROFERRE, ET VITAM +IMPENDERE VERO. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ I tried that in my youth, when I was troubled with the +_passion for reforming the world_;[57] of which I have been long cured +by the conviction of the inefficacy of moral theory with respect to +producing a practical change in the mass of mankind. Custom is the +pillar round which opinion twines, and interest is the tie that binds +it. It is not by reason that practical change can be effected, but by +making a puncture to the quick in the feelings of personal hope and +personal fear. The Reformation in England is one of the supposed +triumphs of reason. But if the passions of Henry the Eighth had not been +interested in that measure, he would as soon have built mosques as +pulled down abbeys; and you will observe that, in all cases, reformation +never goes as far as reason requires, but just as far as suits the +personal interest of those who conduct it. Place Temperance and Bacchus +side by side, in an assembly of jolly fellows, and endow the first with +the most powerful eloquence that mere reason can give, with the absolute +moral force of mathematical demonstration, Bacchus need not take the +trouble of refuting one of her arguments; he will only have to say, +‘Come, my boys, here’s _Damn Temperance_ in a bumper,’ and you may rely +on the toast being drunk with an unanimous three times three. + +(_At the sound of the word_ bumper, _with which Captain Hawltaught had +made him very familiar, Sir Oran Haut-ton looked round for his glass, +but, finding it vanished, comforted himself with a dish of tea from the +fair hand of Miss Danaretta, which, as his friend Mr. Forester had +interdicted him from the use of sugar, he sweetened as well as he could +with a copious infusion of cream_.)[58] + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ As an Opposition orator in the Honourable +House will bring forward a long detail of unanswerable arguments, +without even expecting that they will have the slightest influence on +the vote of the majority. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ A reform of that honourable body, if ever it should +take place, will be one of the ‘_triumphs of reason_.’ But reason will +have little to do with it. All that reason can say on the subject has +been said for years, by men of all parties—while they were _out_; but +the moment they were _in_, the moment their own interest came in contact +with their own reason, the victory of interest was never for a moment +doubtful. While the great fountain of interest, rising in the caverns of +borough patronage and ministerial influence, flowed through the whole +body of the kingdom in channels of paper-money, and loans, and +contracts, and jobs, and places either found or made for the useful +dealers in secret services, so long the predominant interests of +corruption overpowered the true and permanent interests of the country; +but as those channels become dry, and they are becoming so with fearful +rapidity, the crew of every boat that is left aground are convinced, not +by reason—that they had long heard and despised—but by the unexpected +pressure of personal suffering, that they had been going on in the wrong +way. Thus the reaction of interest takes place; and when the +concentrated interests of thousands, combined by the same pressure of +personal suffering, shall have created an independent power, greater +than the power of the interest of corruption, then, and not till then, +the latter will give way, and this will be called the triumph of reason; +though, in truth, like all the changes in human society that have ever +taken place from the birthday of the world, it will be only the triumph +of one mode of interest over another; but as the triumph in this case +will be of the interest of the many over that of the few, it is +certainly a consummation devoutly to be wished. + +_Mr. Forester._ If I should admit that ‘the hope of personal advantage, +and the dread of personal punishment,’ are the only springs that set the +mass of mankind in action, the inefficacy of reason, and the inutility +of moral theory, will by no means follow from the admission. The +progress of truth is slow, but its ultimate triumph is secure; though +its immediate effects may be rendered almost imperceptible by the power +of habit and interest. If the philosopher cannot reform his own times, +he may lay the foundation of amendment in those that follow. Give +currency to reason, improve the moral code of society, and the theory of +one generation will be the practice of the next. After a certain period +of life, and that no very advanced one, men in general become perfectly +unpersuadable to all practical purposes. Few philosophers, therefore, I +believe, expect to produce much change in the habits of their +contemporaries, as Plato proposed to banish from his republic all above +the age of ten, and give a good education to the rest. + +_Mr. Sarcastic._ Or, as Heraclitus the Ephesian proposed to his +countrymen, that all above the age of fourteen should hang themselves, +before he would consent to give laws to the remainder. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + THE BOROUGH OF ONEVOTE + + +The day of election arrived. Mr. Sarcastic’s rumoured preparations, and +the excellence of the ale which he had broached in the city of Novote, +had given a degree of _éclat_ to the election for the borough of +Onevote, which it had never before possessed; the representatives +usually sliding into their nomination with the same silence and decorum +with which a solitary spinster slides into her pew at Wednesday’s or +Friday’s prayers in a country church. The resemblance holds good also in +this respect, that, as the curate addresses the solitary maiden with the +appellation of _dearly beloved brethren_, so the representatives always +pluralised their solitary elector, by conferring on him the appellation +of _a respectable body of constituents_. Mr. Sarcastic, however, being +determined to amuse himself at the expense of this most ‘venerable +_feature_’ in our old constitution, as Lord C. calls a rotten borough, +had brought Mr. Christopher Corporate into his views by the adhibition +of _persuasion in a tangible shape_. It was generally known in Novote +that something would be going forward at Onevote, though nobody could +tell precisely what, except that a long train of brewer’s drays had left +the city for the borough, in grand procession, on the preceding day, +under the escort of a sworn band of special constables, who were to keep +guard over the ale all night. This detachment was soon followed by +another, under a similar escort, and with similar injunctions; and it +was understood that this second expedition of _frothy rhetoric_ was sent +forth under the auspices of Sir Oran Haut-ton, Baronet, the brother +candidate of Simon Sarcastic, Esquire, for the representation of the +ancient and honourable borough. + +The borough of Onevote stood in the middle of a heath, and consisted of +a solitary farm, of which the land was so poor and untractable, that it +would not have been worth the while of any human being to cultivate it, +had not the Duke of Rottenburgh found it very well worth his to pay his +tenant for living there, to keep the honourable borough in existence. + +Mr. Sarcastic left the city of Novote some hours before his new +acquaintance, to superintend his preparations, followed by crowds of +persons of all descriptions, pedestrians and equestrians; old ladies in +chariots, and young ladies on donkeys; the farmer on his hunter, and the +tailor on his hack; the grocer and his family six in a chaise; the +dancing-master in his tilbury; the banker in his tandem; mantua-makers +and servant-maids twenty-four in the waggon, fitted up for the occasion +with a canopy of evergreens; pastry-cooks, men-milliners, and journeymen +tailors, by the stage, running for that day only, six inside and +fourteen out; the sallow artisan emerging from the cellar or the +furnace, to freshen himself with the pure breezes of Onevote Heath; the +bumpkin in his laced boots and Sunday coat, trudging through the dust +with his cherry-cheeked lass on his elbow; the gentleman coachman on his +box, with his painted charmer by his side; the lean curate on his +half-starved Rosinante; the plump bishop setting an example of Christian +humility in his carriage and six; the doctor on his white horse, like +Death in the Revelation; and the lawyer on his black one, like the devil +in the Wild Huntsmen. + +Almost in the rear of this motley cavalcade went the barouche of Sir +Telegraph Paxarett, and rolled up to the scene of action amidst the +shouts of the multitude. + +The heath had very much the appearance of a race-ground; with booths and +stalls, the voices of pie-men and apple-women, the grinding of barrel +organs, the scraping of fiddles, the squeaking of ballad-singers, the +chirping of corkscrews, the vociferations of ale-drinkers, the cries of +the ‘last dying speeches of desperate malefactors,’ and of ‘The History +and Antiquities of the honourable Borough of Onevote, a full and +circumstantial account, all in half a sheet, for the price of one +halfpenny!’ + +The hustings were erected in proper form, and immediately opposite to +them was an enormous marquee with a small opening in front, in which was +seated the important person of Mr. Christopher Corporate, with a tankard +of ale and a pipe. The ladies remained in the barouche under the care of +Sir Telegraph and Mr. Hippy. Mr. Forester, Mr. Fax, and Sir Oran +Haut-ton joined Mr. Sarcastic on the hustings. + +Mr. Sarcastic stepped forward amidst the shouts of the assembled crowd, +and addressed Mr. Christopher Corporate: + +‘Free, fat, and dependent burgess of this ancient and honourable +borough! I stand forward an unworthy candidate, to be the representative +of so important a personage, who comprises in himself a three-hundredth +part of the whole elective capacity of this extensive empire. For if the +whole population be estimated at eleven millions, with what awe and +veneration must I look on one who is, as it were, the abstract and +quintessence of thirty-three thousand six hundred and sixty-six people! +The voice of Stentor was like the voice of fifty, and the voice of Harry +Gill[59] was like the voice of three; but what are these to the voice of +Mr. Christopher Corporate, which gives utterance in one breath to the +concentrated power of thirty-three thousand six hundred and sixty-six +voices? Of such an one it may indeed be said, that _he is himself an +host_, and that _none but himself can be his parallel_. + +‘Most potent, grave, and reverend signor! it is usual on these occasions +to make a great vapouring about honour and conscience; but as those +words are now generally acknowledged to be utterly destitute of meaning, +I have too much respect for your understanding to say anything about +them. The _monied interest_, Mr. Corporate, for which you are as +illustrious _as the sun at noonday_, is the great point of connection +and sympathy between us; and no circumstances can throw a _wet blanket_ +on the ardour of our reciprocal esteem, while the _fundamental feature_ +of our mutual interests presents itself to us in so _tangible a +shape_.[60] How high a value I set upon your voice, you may judge by the +price I have paid for half of it; which, indeed, deeply lodged as my +feelings are in my pocket, I yet see no reason to regret, since you will +thus confer on mine a transmutable and marketable value which I trust by +proper management will leave me no loser by the bargain.’ + +[Illustration: ‘_We shall always be deeply attentive to your +interests._’] + +‘Huzza!’ said Mr. Corporate. + +‘People of the city of Novote!’ proceeded Mr. Sarcastic, ‘some of you, I +am informed, consider yourselves aggrieved, that while your large and +populous city has no share whatever in the formation of the Honourable +House, the _plural unity_ of Mr. Christopher Corporate should be +invested with the privilege of double representation. But, gentlemen, +representation is of two kinds, actual and virtual; an important +distinction, and of great political consequence. + +‘The Honourable Baronet and myself, being the actual representatives of +the fat burgess of Onevote, shall be the virtual representatives of the +worthy citizens of Novote; and you may rely on it, gentlemen (_with his +hand on his heart_), we shall always be deeply attentive to your +interests, when they happen, as no doubt they sometimes will, to be +perfectly compatible with our own. + +‘A member of Parliament, gentlemen, to speak to you in your own phrase, +is a sort of staple commodity, manufactured for home consumption. Much +has been said of the improvement of machinery in the present age, by +which one man may do the work of a dozen. If this be admirable, and +admirable it is acknowledged to be by all the civilised world, how much +more admirable is the improvement of political machinery, by which one +man does the work of thirty thousand! I am sure I need not say another +word to a great manufacturing population like the inhabitants of the +city of Novote, to convince them of the beauty and utility of this most +luminous arrangement. + +‘The duty of a representative of the people, whether actual or virtual, +is simply _to tax_. Now this important branch of public business is much +more easily and expeditiously transacted by the means of virtual, than +it possibly could be by that of actual representation. For when the +minister draws up his scheme of ways and means, he will do it with much +more celerity and confidence, when he knows that the propitious +countenance of virtual representation will never cease to smile upon him +as long as he continues in place, than if he had to encounter the +doubtful aspect of actual representation, which might, perhaps, look +black on some of his favourite projects, thereby greatly impeding the +distribution of secret service money at home, and placing foreign +legitimacy in a very awkward predicament. The carriage of the state +would then be like a chariot in a forest, turning to the left for a +troublesome thorn, and to the right for a sturdy oak; whereas it now +rolls forward like the car of Juggernaut over the plain crushing +whatever offers to impede its way. + +‘The constitution says that no man shall be taxed but by his own +consent; a very plausible theory, gentlemen, but not reducible to +practice. Who will apply a lancet to his own arm, and bleed himself? +Very few, you acknowledge. Who then, _a fortiori_, would apply a lancet +to his own pocket, and draw off what is dearer to him than his blood—his +money? Fewer still, of course; I humbly opine, none.—What then remains +but to appoint a royal college of state surgeons, who may operate on the +patient according to their views of his case? Taxation is political +phlebotomy: the Honourable House is, figuratively speaking, a royal +college of state surgeons. A good surgeon must have firm nerves and a +steady hand; and, perhaps, the less feeling the better. Now, it is +manifest that, as all feeling is founded on sympathy, the fewer +constituents a representative has, the less must be his sympathy with +the public, and the less, of course as is desirable, his feeling for his +patient—the people:—who, therefore, with so much _sang froid_, can +phlebotomise the nation, as the representative of half an elector? + +‘Gentlemen, as long as a _full Gazette_ is pleasant to the _quidnunc_; +as long as an empty purse is delightful to the spendthrift; as long as +the cry of _Question_ is a satisfactory _answer_ to an argument, and to +outvote reason is to refute it; as long as the way to pay old debts is +to incur new ones of five times the amount; as long as the grand recipes +of political health and longevity are _bleeding_ and _hot water_—so long +must you rejoice in the privileges of Mr. Christopher Corporate, so long +must you acknowledge from the very bottom of your pockets the benefits +and blessings of _virtual representation_.’ + +This harangue was received with great applause, acclamations rent the +air, and ale flowed in torrents. Mr. Forester declined speaking, and the +party on the hustings proceeded to business. Sir Oran Haut-ton, Baronet, +and Simon Sarcastic, Esquire, were nominated in form. Mr. Christopher +Corporate held up both his hands, with his tankard in one, and his pipe +in the other; and neither poll nor scrutiny being demanded, the two +candidates were pronounced duly elected as representatives of the +ancient and honourable borough of Onevote. + +[Illustration: ‘_Hail, plural unit!_’] + +The shouts were renewed; the ale flowed rapidly; the pipe and tankard of +Mr. Corporate were replenished. Sir Oran Haut-ton, Baronet, M.P., bowed +gracefully to the people with his hand on his heart. + +A cry was now raised of ‘Chair ’em! chair ’em!’ when Mr. Sarcastic again +stepped forward. + +‘Gentlemen,’ said he, ‘a slight difficulty opposes itself to the honour +you would confer on us. The members should, according to form, be +chaired by their electors; and how can one elector, great man as he is, +chair two representatives? But to obviate this dilemma as well as +circumstances admit, I move that the “large body corporate of one” whom +the Honourable Baronet and myself have the honour to represent, do +resolve himself into a committee.’ + +He had no sooner spoken, than the marquee opened, and a number of bulky +personages, all in dress, aspect, size, and figure, very exact +resemblances of Mr. Christopher Corporate, each with his pipe and his +tankard, emerged into daylight, who, encircling their venerable +prototype, lifted their tankards high in air, and pronounced with +Stentorian symphony, ‘HAIL, PLURAL UNIT!’ Then, after a simultaneous +draught, throwing away their pipes and tankards, for which the mob +immediately scrambled, they raised on high two magnificent chairs, and +prepared to carry into effect the last ceremony of the election. The +party on the hustings descended. Mr. Sarcastic stepped into his chair; +and his part of the procession, headed by Mr. Christopher Corporate, and +surrounded by a multiform and many-coloured crowd, moved slowly off +towards the city of Novote, amidst the undistinguishable clamour of +multitudinous voices. + +Sir Oran Haut-ton watched the progress of his precursor, as his chair +rolled and swayed over the sea of heads, like a boat with one mast on a +stormy ocean; and the more he watched the agitation of its movements, +the more his countenance gave indications of strong dislike to the +process; so that when his seat in the second chair was offered to him, +he with a very polite bow declined the honour. The party that was to +carry him, thinking that his repugnance arose entirely from diffidence, +proceeded with gentle force to overcome his scruples, when not precisely +penetrating their motives, and indignant at this attempt to violate the +freedom of the natural man, he seized a stick from a sturdy farmer at +his elbow, and began to lay about him with great vigour and effect. +Those who escaped being knocked down by the first sweep of his weapon +ran away with all their might, but were soon checked by the pressure of +the crowd, who, hearing the noise of conflict, and impatient to +ascertain the cause, bore down from all points upon a common centre, and +formed a circumferential pressure that effectually prohibited the egress +of those within; and they, in their turn, in their eagerness to escape +from Sir Oran (who like Artegall’s Iron Man, or like Ajax among the +Trojans, or like Rodomonte in Paris, or like Orlando among the soldiers +of Agramant, kept clearing for himself an ample space in the midst of +the encircling crowd), waged desperate conflict with those without; so +that from the equal and opposite action of the centripetal and +centrifugal forces, resulted a stationary combat, raging between the +circumferences of two concentric circles, with barbaric dissonance of +deadly feud, and infinite variety of oath and execration, till Sir Oran, +charging desperately along one of the radii, fought a free passage +through all opposition; and rushing to the barouche of Sir Telegraph +Paxarett, sprang to his old station on the box, from whence he shook his +sapling at the foe with looks of mortal defiance. Mr. Forester, who had +been forcibly parted from him at the commencement of the strife, had +been all anxiety on his account, mounted with great alacrity to his +station on the roof; the rest of the party was already seated; the +Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney, half-fainting with terror, earnestly entreated +Sir Telegraph to fly: Sir Telegraph cracked his whip, the horses sprang +forward like racers, the wheels went round like the wheels of a +firework. The tumult of battle, lessening as they receded, came wafted +to them on the wings of the wind; for the flame of discord having been +once kindled, was not extinguished by the departure of its first +flambeau—Sir Oran; but war raged wide and far, here in the thickest mass +of central fight, there in the light skirmishing of flying detachments. +The hustings were demolished, and the beams and planks turned into +offensive weapons: the booths were torn to pieces, and the canvas +converted into flags floating over the heads of magnanimous heroes that +rushed to revenge they knew not what, in deadly battle with they knew +not whom. The stalls and barrows were upset; and the pears, apples, +oranges, mutton-pies, and masses of gingerbread, flew like missiles of +fate in all directions. The _sanctum sanctorum_ of the ale was broken +into, and the guardians of the Hesperian liquor were put to ignominious +rout. Hats and wigs were hurled into the air, never to return to the +heads from which they had suffered violent divorce. The collision of +sticks, the ringing of empty ale-casks, the shrieks of women, and the +vociferations of combatants, mingled in one deepening and indescribable +tumult; till at length, everything else being levelled with the heath, +they turned the mingled torrent of their wrath on the cottage of Mr. +Corporate, to which they triumphantly set fire, and danced round the +blaze like a rabble of village boys round the effigy of the immortal +Guy. In a few minutes the ancient and honourable borough of Onevote was +reduced to ashes; but we have the satisfaction to state that it was +rebuilt a few days afterwards, at the joint expense of its two +representatives, and His Grace the Duke of Rottenburgh. + +[Illustration: _Began to lay about him with great vigour and effect._] + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + THE COUNCIL OF WAR + + +The compassionate reader will perhaps sympathise in our anxiety to take +one peep at Lord Anophel Achthar and the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, whom +we left perched on the summit of the rock where Sir Oran had placed +them, looking at each other as ruefully as Hudibras and Ralpho in their +‘wooden bastile,’ and falling by degrees into as knotty an argument, the +_quaeritur_ of which was, how to descend from their elevation—an exploit +which to them seemed replete with danger and difficulty. Lord Anophel, +having, for the first time in his life, been made acquainted with the +salutary effects of manual discipline, sate boiling with wrath and +revenge; while the Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub, who in his youthful days had +been beaten black and blue in the capacity of _fag_ (a practice which +reflects so much honour on our public seminaries), bore the infliction +with more humility. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar_ (_rubbing his shoulder_). This is all your doing, +Grovelgrub—all your fault, curse me! + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ Oh, my Lord! my intention was good, though +the catastrophe is ill. The race is not always to the swift, nor the +battle to the strong. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ But the battle was to the strong in this +instance, Grovelgrub, curse me! though from the speed with which you +began to run off on the first alarm, it was no fault of yours that the +race was not to the swift. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ I must do your Lordship the justice to say, +that you too started with a degree of celerity highly creditable to your +capacity of natural locomotion; and if that ugly monster, the dumb +Baronet, had not knocked us both down in the incipiency of our +progression—— + +[Illustration: _Perched on the summit of the rock._] + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ We should have escaped as our two rascals did, +who shall bitterly rue their dereliction. But as to the dumb Baronet, +who has treated me with gross impertinence on various occasions, I shall +certainly call him out, to give me the satisfaction of a gentleman. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ Oh, my Lord. + + Though with pistols ’tis the fashion + To satisfy your passion; + Yet where’s the satisfaction, + If you perish in the action? + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ One of us must perish, Grovelgrub, ‘pon honour. +Death or revenge! We’re blown, Grovelgrub. He took off our masks; and +though he can’t speak, he can write, no doubt, and read too, as I shall +try with a challenge. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ Can’t speak, my Lord, is by no means clear. +Won’t speak, perhaps; none are so dumb as those who won’t speak. Don’t +you think, my Lord, there was a sort of melancholy about him—a kind of +sullenness? Crossed in love, I suspect. People crossed in love, Saint +Chrysostom says, lose their voice. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Then I wish you were crossed in love, +Grovelgrub, with all my heart. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ Nay, my Lord, what so sweet in calamity as +the voice of the spiritual comforter? All shall be well yet, my Lord. I +have an infallible project hatching here; Miss Melincourt shall be +ensconced in Alga Castle, and then the day is our own. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Grovelgrub, you know the old receipt for stewing +a carp: ‘First, catch your carp.’ + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ Your Lordship is pleased to be facetious; but +if the carp be not caught, let me be devilled like a biscuit after the +second bottle, or a turkey’s leg at a twelfth night supper. The carp +shall be caught. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Well, Grovelgrub, only take notice that I’ll not +come again within ten miles of dummy. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ You may rely upon it, my Lord, I shall always +know my distance from the Honourable Baronet. But my plot is a good +plot, and cannot fail of success. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ You are a very skilful contriver, to be sure; +this is your contrivance, our perch on the top of this rock. Now +contrive, if you can, some way of getting to the bottom of it. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ My Lord, there is a passage in Aeschylus very +applicable to our situation, where the chorus wishes to be in precisely +such a place. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Then I wish the chorus were here instead of us, +Grovelgrub, with all my soul. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ It is a very fine passage, my Lord, and worth +your attention: the rock is described as + + λισσας αἰγιλιψ ἀπροσδεικτος + οἰοφρων ἐρημας γυπιας πετρα, + βαθυ πτωμα μαρτυρουσα μοι.[61] + +That is, my Lord, a precipitous rock, inaccessible to the goat—not to be +pointed at (from having, as I take it, its head in the clouds), where +there is the loneliness of mind, and the solitude of desolation, where +the vulture has its nest, and the precipice testifies a deep and +headlong fall. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ I’ll tell you what, Grovelgrub; if ever I catch +you quoting Aeschylus again, I’ll cashier you from your tutorship—that’s +positive. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ I am dumb, my Lord. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Think, I tell you, of some way of getting down. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ Nothing more easy, my Lord. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Plummet fashion, I suppose? + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ Why, as your Lordship seems to hint, that +certainly is the most expeditious method; but not, I think, in all +points of view, the most advisable. On this side of the rock is a +_dumetum_: we can descend, I think, by the help of the roots and shoots. +O dear! I shall be like Virgil’s goat: I shall be seen from far to hang +from the bushy rock _dumosa pendere procul de rupe videbor_! + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._—Confound your Greek and Latin! you know there is +nothing I hate so much; and I thought you did so too, or you have +_finished_ your _education_ to no purpose at college. + +_The Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub._ I do, my Lord; I hate them mortally, more +than anything except philosophy and the dumb Baronet. + +Lord Anophel Achthar proceeded to examine the side of the rock to which +the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub had called his attention; and as it seemed +the most practicable mode of descent, it was resolved to submit to +necessity, and make a valorous effort to regain the valley; Lord +Anophel, however, insisting on the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub leading the +way. The reverend gentleman seized with one hand the stem of a hazel, +with the other the branch of an ash; set one foot on the root of an oak, +and deliberately lowered the other in search of a resting-place; which +having found on a projecting point of stone, he cautiously disengaged +one hand and the upper foot, for which in turn he sought and found a +firm _appui_; and thus by little and little he vanished among the boughs +from the sight of Lord Anophel, who proceeded with great circumspection +to follow his example. + +Lord Anophel had descended about one third of the elevation, comforting +his ear with the rustling of the boughs below, that announced the safe +progress of his reverend precursor; when suddenly, as he was shifting +his right hand, a treacherous twig in his left gave way, and he fell +with fearful lapse from bush to bush, till, striking violently on a +bough to which the unfortunate divine was appended, it broke beneath the +shock, and down they went, crashing through the bushes together. Lord +Anophel was soon wedged into the middle of a large holly, from which he +heard the intermitted sound of the boughs as they broke and were broken +by the fall of his companion; till at length they ceased, and fearful +silence succeeded. He then extricated himself from the holly as well as +he could, at the expense of a scratched face, and lowered himself down +without further accident. On reaching the bottom, he had the pleasure to +find the reverend gentleman in safety, sitting on a fragment of stone, +and rubbing his shin. ‘Come, Grovelgrub,’ said Lord Anophel, ‘let us +make the best of our way to the nearest inn.’—‘And pour oil and wine +into our wounds,’ pursued the reverend gentleman, ‘and over our Madeira +and walnuts lay a more hopeful scheme for our next campaign.’ + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + THE BAROUCHE + + +The morning after the election Sir Oran Haut-ton and his party took +leave of Mr. Sarcastic, Mr. Forester having previously obtained from him +a promise to be present at the anti-saccharine fête. The barouche left +the city of Novote, decorated with ribands; Sir Oran Haut-ton was loudly +cheered by the populace, and not least by those whom he had most +severely beaten; the secret of which was, that a double allowance of ale +had been distributed over-night, to wash away the effects of his +indiscretion; it having been ascertained by political economists, that a +practical appeal either to the palm or the palate will induce the +friends of _things as they are_ to submit to anything. + +Autumn was now touching on the confines of winter, but the day was mild +and sunny. Sir Telegraph asked Mr. Forester if he did not think the mode +of locomotion very agreeable. + +_Mr. Forester._ That I never denied; all I question is, the right of any +individual to indulge himself in it. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Surely a man has a right to do what he pleases +with his own money. + +_Mr. Forester._ A legal right, certainly, not a moral one. The +possession of power does not justify its abuse. The quantity of money in +a nation, the quantity of food, and the number of animals that consume +that food, maintain a triangular harmony, of which, in all the +fluctuations of time and circumstance, the proportions are always the +same. You must consider, therefore, that for every horse you keep for +pleasure, you pass sentence of non-existence on two human beings. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Really, Forester, you are a very singular +fellow. I should not much mind what you say, if you had not such a +strange habit of practising what you preach; a thing quite +unprecedented, and, egad, preposterous. I cannot think where you got it: +I am sure you did not learn it at college. + +_Mr. Fax._ In a political light, every object of perception may be +resolved into one of these three heads: the food consumed—the +consumers—and money. In this point of view all convertible property that +does not eat and drink is money. Diamonds are money. When a man changes +a bank-note for a diamond, he merely changes one sort of money for +another, differing only in the facility of circulation and the stability +of value. None of the produce of the earth is wasted by the permutation. + +_Mr. Forester._ The most pernicious species of luxury, therefore, is +that which applies the fruits of the earth to any other purposes than +those of human subsistence. All luxury is indeed pernicious, because its +infallible tendency is to enervate the few and enslave the many; but +luxury, which, in addition to this evil tendency, destroys the fruits of +the earth in the wantonness of idle ostentation, and thereby prevents +the existence of so many human beings as the quantity of food so +destroyed would maintain, is marked by criminality of a much deeper dye. + +_Mr. Fax._ At the same time you must consider that, in respect of +population, the great desideratum is not number, but quality. If the +whole surface of this country were divided into gardens, and in every +garden were a cottage, and in every cottage a family living entirely on +potatoes, the number of its human inhabitants would be much greater than +at present; but where would be the spirit of commercial enterprise, the +researches of science, the exalted pursuits of philosophical leisure, +the communication with distant lands, and all that variety of human life +and intercourse, which is now so beautiful and interesting? Above all, +where would be the refuge of such a population in times of the slightest +defalcation? Now, the waste of plenty is the resource of scarcity. The +canal that does not overflow in the season of rain will not be navigable +in the season of drought. The rich have been often ready, in days of +emergency, to lay their superfluities aside; but when the fruits of the +earth are applied in plentiful or even ordinary seasons, to the utmost +possibility of human subsistence, the days of deficiency in their +produce must be days of inevitable famine. + +_Mr. Forester._ What then will you say of those who in times of actual +famine persevere in their old course, in the wanton waste of luxury? + +_Mr. Fax._ Truly I have nothing to say for them but that they know not +what they do. + +_Mr. Forester._ If, in any form of human society, any one human being +dies of hunger, while another wastes or consumes in the wantonness of +vanity as much as would have preserved his existence, I hold that second +man guilty of the death of the first. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Surely, Forester, you are not serious. + +_Mr. Forester._ Indeed I am. What would you think of a family of four +persons, two of whom should not be contented with consuming their own +share of diurnal provision but, having adventitiously the pre-eminence +of physical power, should either throw the share of the two others into +the fire, or stew it down into a condiment for their own? + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ I should think it very abominable, certainly. + +_Mr. Forester._ Yet what is human society but one great family? What is +moral duty, but that precise line of conduct which tends to promote the +greatest degree of general happiness? And is not this duty most +flagrantly violated, when one man appropriates to himself the +subsistence of twelve; while, perhaps in his immediate neighbourhood, +eleven of his fellow-beings are dying with hunger? I have seen such a +man walk with a demure face into church, as regularly as if the Sunday +bell had been a portion of his corporeal mechanism, to hear a bloated +and beneficed sensualist hold forth on the text of _Do as ye would be +done by_, or _Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my +brethren, ye have done it unto me_: whereas, if he had wished his theory +to coincide with his practice he would have chosen for his text, _Behold +a man gluttonous, and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and +sinners_:[62] and when the duty of words was over, the auditor and his +ghostly adviser, issuing forth together, have committed poor Lazarus to +the care of Providence, and proceeded to feast in the lordly mansion, +like Dives that lived in purple.[63] + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Well, Forester, there I escape your shaft; for +I have ‘forgotten what the inside of a church is made of,’ since they +made me go to chapel twice a day at college. But go on, and don’t spare +_me_. + +_Mr. Fax._ Let us suppose that ten thousand quarters of wheat will +maintain ten thousand persons during any given portion of time: if the +ten thousand quarters be reduced to five, or if the ten thousand persons +be increased to twenty, the consequence will be immediate and general +distress: yet if the proportions be equally distributed, as in a ship on +short allowance, the general perception of necessity and justice will +preserve general patience and mutual goodwill; but let the first +supposition remain unaltered, let there be ten thousand quarters of +wheat, which shall be full allowance for ten thousand people; then, if +four thousand persons take to themselves the portion of eight thousand, +and leave to the remaining six thousand the portion of two (and this I +fear is even an inadequate picture of the common practice of the world), +these latter will be in a much worse condition on the last than on the +first supposition; while the habit of selfish prodigality deadening all +good feelings and extinguishing all sympathy on the one hand, and the +habit of debasement and suffering combining with the inevitable sense of +oppression and injustice on the other, will produce an action and +reaction of open, unblushing, cold-hearted pride, and servile, +inefficient, ill-disguised resentment, which no philanthropist can +contemplate without dismay. + +_Mr. Forester._ What then will be the case if the same disproportionate +division continues by regular gradations through the remaining six +thousand, till the lowest thousand receive such a fractional pittance as +will scarcely keep life together? If any of these perish with hunger, +what are they but the victims of the first four thousand, who +appropriated more to themselves than either nature required or justice +allowed? This, whatever the temporisers with the world may say of it, I +have no hesitation in pronouncing to be wickedness of the most atrocious +kind; and this I make no doubt was the sense of the founder of the +Christian religion when he said, _It is easier for a camel to pass +through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of +heaven_. + +_Mr. Fax._ You must beware of the chimaera of an agrarian law, the +revolutionary doctrine of an equality of possession; which can never be +possible in practice, till the whole constitution of human nature be +changed. + +_Mr. Forester._ I am no revolutionist. I am no advocate for violent and +arbitrary changes in the state of society. I care not in what +proportions property is divided (though I think there are certain limits +which it ought never to pass, and approve the wisdom of the American +laws in restricting the fortune of a private citizen to twenty thousand +a year), provided the rich can be made to know that they are but the +stewards of the poor, that they are not to be the monopolisers of +solitary spoil, but the distributors of general possession; that they +are responsible for that distribution to every principle of general +justice, to every tie of moral obligation, to every feeling of human +sympathy; that they are bound to cultivate simple habits in themselves, +and to encourage most such arts of industry and peace as are most +compatible with the health and liberty of others. + +_Mr. Fax._ On this principle, then, any species of luxury in the +artificial adornment of persons and dwellings, which condemns the +artificer to a life of pain and sickness in the alternations of the +furnace and the cellar, is more baleful and more criminal than even that +which, consuming in idle prodigality the fruits of the earth, destroys +altogether, in the proportion of its waste, so much of the possibility +of human existence: since it is better not to be than to be in misery. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ That is some consolation for me, as it shows +me that there are others worse than myself; for I really thought you +were going between you to prove me one of the greatest rogues in +England. But seriously, Forester, you think the keeping of +pleasure-horses, for the reasons you have given, a selfish and criminal +species of luxury? + +_Mr. Forester._ I am so far persuaded of it, that I keep none myself. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ But are not these four very beautiful +creatures? Would you wish not to see them in existence, living as they +do a very happy and easy kind of life? + +_Mr. Forester._ That I am disposed to question, when I compare the wild +horse, in his native deserts, in the full enjoyment of health and +liberty, and all the energies of his nature, with those docked, cropped, +curtailed, mutilated animals, pent more than half their lives in the +close confinement of a stable, never let out but to run in trammels, +subject, like their tyrant man, to an infinite variety of diseases, the +produce of civilisation and unnatural life, and tortured every now and +then by some villain of a farrier, who has no more feeling for them than +a West Indian planter has for his slaves; and when you consider, too, +the fate of the most cherished of the species, racers and hunters, +instruments and often victims of sports equally foolish and cruel, you +will acknowledge that the life of the civilised horse is not an enviable +destiny. + +_Mr. Fax._ Horses are noble and useful animals; but as they must +necessarily exist in great numbers for almost every purpose of human +intercourse and business, it is desirable that none should be kept for +purposes of mere idleness and ostentation. A pleasure-horse is a sort of +four-footed sinecurist. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Not quite so mischievous as a two-footed one. + +_Mr. Forester._ Perhaps not: but the latter has always a large retinue +of the former, and therefore the evil is doubled. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Upon my word, Forester, you will almost talk +me out of my barouche, and then what will become of me? What shall I do +to kill time? + +_Mr. Forester._ Read ancient books, the only source of permanent +happiness left in this degenerate world. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Read ancient books! That may be very good +advice to some people: but you forget that I have been at college, and +_finished_ my _education_. By the bye I have one inside, a portable +advocate for my proceedings, no less a personage than old Pindar. + +_Mr. Forester._ Pindar has written very fine odes on driving, as +Anacreon has done on drinking; but the first can no more be adduced to +prove the morality of the whip, than the second to demonstrate the +virtue of intemperance. Besides, as to the mental tendency and emulative +associations of the pursuit itself, no comparison can be instituted +between the charioteers of the Olympic games and those of our turnpike +roads; for the former were the emulators of heroes and demigods, and the +latter of grooms and mail coachmen. + +_Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ Well, Forester, as I recall to mind the +various subjects against which I have heard you declaim, I will make you +a promise. When ecclesiastical dignitaries imitate the temperance and +humility of the founder of that religion by which they feed and +flourish: when the man in place acts on the principles which he +professed while he was out: when borough electors will not sell their +suffrage, nor their representatives their votes: when poets are not to +be hired for the maintenance of any opinion: when learned divines can +afford to have a conscience: when universities are not a hundred years +in knowledge behind all the rest of the world: when young ladies speak +as they think, and when those who shudder at a tale of the horrors of +slavery will deprive their own palates of a sweet taste, for the purpose +of contributing all in their power to its extinction:—why then, +Forester, I will lay down my barouche. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + THE WALK + + +They were to pass, in their return, through an estate belonging to Mr. +Forester, for the purpose of taking up his aunt Miss Evergreen, who was +to accompany them to Redrose Abbey. On arriving at an inn on the nearest +point of the great road, Mr. Forester told Sir Telegraph that, from the +arrangements he had made, it was impossible for any carriage to enter +his estate, as he had taken every precaution for preserving the +simplicity of his tenants from the contagious exhibitions and examples +of luxury. ‘This road,’ said he, ‘is only accessible to pedestrians and +equestrians: I have no wish to exclude the visits of laudable curiosity, +but there is nothing I so much dread and deprecate as the intrusion of +those heartless fops, who take their fashionable autumnal tour, to gape +at rocks and waterfalls, for which they have neither eyes nor ears, and +to pervert the feelings and habits of the once simple dwellers of the +mountains.[64] Nature seems to have raised her mountain-barriers for the +purpose of rescuing a few favoured mortals from the vortex of that +torrent of physical and moral degeneracy which seems to threaten nothing +less than the extermination of the human species:[65] but in vain, while +the annual opening of its sluices lets out a side stream of the worst +specimens of what is called refined society, to inundate the mountain +valleys with the corruptions of metropolitan folly. Thus innocence, and +health, and simplicity of life and manners, are banished from their last +retirement, and nowhere more lamentably so than in the romantic scenery +of the northern lakes, where every wonder of nature is made an article +of trade, where the cataracts are locked up, and the echoes are sold: so +that even the rustic character of that ill-fated region is condemned to +participate in the moral stigma which must dwell indelibly on its +poetical name.’ + +The party alighted, and a consultation being held, it was resolved to +walk to the village in a body, the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney lifting her +hands and eyes in profound astonishment at Mr. Forester’s old-fashioned +notions. + +They followed a narrow winding path through rocky and sylvan hills. +They walked in straggling parties of ones, twos, and threes. Mr. +Forester and Anthelia went first. Sir Oran Haut-ton followed alone, +playing a pensive tune on his flute. Sir Telegraph Paxarett walked +between his aunt and cousin, the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney and Miss +Danaretta. Mr. Hippy, in a melancholy vein, brought up the rear with +Mr. Fax. A very beautiful child which had sat on the old gentleman’s +knee, at the inn where they breakfasted, had thrown him, not for the +first time on a similar occasion, into a fit of dismal repentance that +he had not one of his own: he stalked along accordingly, with a most +ruefully lengthened aspect, uttering every now and then a deep-drawn +sigh. Mr. Fax in philosophic sympathy determined to console him, by +pointing out to him the true nature and tendency of the principle of +population, and the enormous evils resulting from the multiplication +of the human species: observing that the only true criterion of the +happiness of a nation was to be found in the number of its old maids +and bachelors, whom he venerated as the sources and symbols of +prosperity and peace. Poor Mr. Hippy walked on sighing and groaning, +deaf as the adder to the voice of the charmer: for, in spite of all +the eloquence of the antipopulationist, the image of the beautiful +child which he had danced on his knee continued to haunt his +imagination, and threatened him with the blue devils for the rest of +the day. + +‘I see,’ said Sir Telegraph to Mrs. Pinmoney, ‘my hopes are at an end. +Forester is the happy man, though I am by no means sure that he knows it +himself.’ + +‘Impossible,’ said Mrs. Pinmoney; ‘Anthelia may be amused a little while +with his rhapsodies, but nothing more, believe me. The man is out of his +mind. Do you know, I heard him say the other day, “that not a shilling +of his property was his own, that it was a portion of the general +possession of human society, of which the distribution had devolved upon +him: and that for the mode of that distribution he was most rigidly +responsible to the principles of immutable justice.” If such a mode of +talking——’ + +‘And acting too,’ said Sir Telegraph; ‘for I assure you he quadrates his +practice as nearly as he can to his theory.’ + +‘Monstrous!’ said Mrs. Pinmoney, ‘what would our reverend friend, poor +dear Doctor Bosky, say to him? But if such a way of talking and acting +be the way to win a young heiress, I shall think the whole world is +turned topsy-turvy.’ + +‘Your remark would be just,’ said Sir Telegraph, ‘were that young +heiress any other than Anthelia Melincourt.’ + +‘Well,’ said Mrs. Pinmoney, ‘there are maidens in Scotland more lovely +by far——’ + +‘That I deny,’ said Sir Telegraph. + +‘Who will gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar,’ proceeded Mrs. +Pinmoney. + +‘That will not do,’ said Sir Telegraph: ‘I shall resign with the best +grace I can muster to a more favoured candidate, but I shall never think +of another choice.’ + +‘Twelve months hence,’ said Mrs. Pinmoney, ‘you will tell another tale. +In the meantime you will not die of despair as long as there is a good +turnpike road and a pipe of Madeira in England.’ + + +‘You will find,’ said Mr. Forester to Anthelia, ‘in the little valley we +are about to enter, a few specimens of that simple and natural life +which approaches as nearly as the present state of things will admit to +my ideas of the habits and manners of the primaeval agriculturists, or +the fathers of the Roman republic. You will think perhaps of Fabricius +under his oak, of Curius in his cottage, of Regulus, when he solicited +recall from the command of an army, because the man whom he had +intrusted, in his absence, with the cultivation of his field and garden +had run away with his spade and rake, by which his wife and children +were left without support; and when the senate decreed that the +implements should be replaced, and a man provided at the public expense +to maintain the consul’s family, by cultivating his fields in his +absence. Then poverty was as honourable as it is now disgraceful: then +the same public respect was given to him who could most simplify his +habits and manners that is now paid to those who can make the most +shameless parade of wanton and selfish prodigality. Those days are past +for ever: but it is something in the present time to resuscitate their +memory, to call up even the shadow of the reflection of republican +Rome—_Rome the seat of glory and of virtue, if ever they had one on +earth_.[66] + +‘You excite my curiosity very highly,’ said Anthelia, ‘for, from the +time when I read + + ——in those dear books that first + Woke in my heart the love of poesy, + How with the villagers Erminia dwelt, + And Calidore, for a fair shepherdess, + Forgot his guest to learn the shepherd’s lore; + +how much have I regretted never to discover in the actual inhabitants of +the country the realisation of the pictures of Spenser and Tasso!’ + +‘The palaces,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘that everywhere rise around them to +shame the meanness of their humble dwellings, the great roads that +everywhere intersect their valleys, and bring them continually in +contact with the overflowing corruption of cities, the devastating +monopoly of large farms, that has almost swept the race of cottagers +from the face of the earth, sending the parents to the workhouse or the +army, and the children to perish like untimely blossoms in the blighting +imprisonment of manufactories, have combined to diminish the numbers and +deteriorate the character of the inhabitants of the country; but +whatever be the increasing ravages of the Triad of Mammon, avarice, +luxury, and disease, they will always be the last involved in the vortex +of progressive degeneracy, realising the beautiful fiction of ancient +poetry, that, when primaeval Justice departed from the earth, her last +steps were among the cultivators of the fields.’[67] + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI + THE COTTAGERS + + +The valley expanded into a spacious amphitheatre, with a beautiful +stream winding among pastoral meadows, which, as well as the surrounding +hills, were studded with cottages, each with its own trees, its little +garden, and its farm. Sir Telegraph was astonished to find so many human +dwellings in a space that, on the modern tactics of rural economy, +appeared only sufficient for three or four _moderate_ farms; and Mr. Fax +looked perfectly aghast to perceive the principle of population in such +a fearful state of activity. Mrs. and Miss Pinmoney expressed their +surprise at not seeing a single lordly mansion asserting its regal +pre-eminence over the dwellings of its miserable vassals; while the +voices of the children at play served only to condense the vapours that +obfuscated the imagination of poor Mr. Hippy. Anthelia, as their path +wound among the cottages, was more and more delighted with the neatness +and comfort of the dwellings, the exquisite order of the gardens, the +ingenuous air of happiness and liberty that characterised the simple +inhabitants, and the health and beauty of the little rosy children that +were sporting in the fields. Mr. Forester had been recognised from a +distance. The cottagers ran out in all directions to welcome him: the +valley and the hills seemed starting into life, as men, women, and +children poured down, as with one impulse, on the path of his approach, +while some hastened to the residence of Miss Evergreen, ambitious of +being the first to announce to her the arrival of her nephew. Miss +Evergreen came forward to meet the party, surrounded by a rustic crowd +of both sexes, and of every age, from the old man leaning on his stick, +to the little child that could just run alone, but had already learnt to +attach something magical to the sound of the name of Forester. + +The first idea they entertained at the sight of his party was that he +was married, and had brought his bride to visit his little colony; and +Anthelia was somewhat disconcerted by the benedictions that were poured +upon her under this impression of the warm-hearted rustics. + +They entered Miss Evergreen’s cottage, which was small, but in a style +of beautiful simplicity. Anthelia was much pleased with her countenance +and manners; for Miss Evergreen was an amiable and intelligent woman, +and was single, not from having wanted lovers, but from being of that +order of minds which can love but once. + +Mr. Fax took occasion, during a temporary absence of Miss Evergreen from +the apartment in which they were taking refreshment, to say he was happy +to have seen so amiable a specimen of that injured and calumniated class +of human beings commonly called old maids, who were often so from +possessing in too high a degree the qualities most conducive to domestic +happiness; for it might naturally be imagined that the least refined and +delicate minds would be the soonest satisfied in the choice of a +partner, and the most ready to repair the loss of a first love by the +substitution of a second. This might have led to a discussion, but Miss +Evergreen’s re-entrance prevented it. They now strolled out among the +cottages in detached parties and in different directions. Mr. Fax +attached himself to Mr. Hippy and Miss Evergreen. Anthelia and Mr. +Forester went their own way. She was above the little affectation of +feeling her _dignity_ offended, as our female novel-writers express it, +by the notions which the peasants had formed respecting her. ‘You see,’ +said Mr. Forester, ‘I have endeavoured as much as possible to recall the +images of better times, when the country was well peopled, from the +farms being small, and cultivated chiefly by cottagers who lived in what +was in Scotland called a _cottar town_.[68] Now you may go over vast +tracts of country without seeing anything like an _old English Cottage_, +to say nothing of the fearful difference which has been caused in the +interior of the few that remain by the pressure of exorbitant taxation, +of which the real, though not the nominal burden, always falls most +heavily on the labouring classes, backed by that _canker at the heart of +national prosperity_, the imaginary riches of paper-credit, of which the +means are delusion, the progress monopoly, and the ultimate effect the +extinction of the best portion of national population, a healthy and +industrious peasantry. Large farms bring more rent to the landlord, and +therefore landlords in general make no scruple to increase their rents +by depopulating their estates,[69] though Anthelia Melincourt will not +comprehend the mental principle in which such feelings originate.’ + +‘Is it possible,’ said Anthelia, ‘that you, so young as you are, can +have created such a scene as this?’ + +‘My father,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘began what I merely perpetuate. He +estimated his riches, not by the amount of rent his estate produced, but +the number of simple and happy beings it maintained. He divided it into +little farms of such a size as were sufficient, even in indifferent +seasons, to produce rather more than the necessities of their +cultivators required. So that all these cottagers are rich, according to +the definition of Socrates;[70] for they have at all times a little more +than they actually need, a subsidium for age or sickness, or any +accidental necessity.’ + +They entered several of the cottages, and found in them all the same +traces of comfort and content, and the same images of the better days of +England: the clean-tiled floor, the polished beechen table, the tea-cups +on the chimney, the dresser with its glittering dishes, the old woman +with her spinning-wheel by the fire, and the old man with his little +grandson in the garden, giving him his first lessons in the use of the +spade, the good wife busy in her domestic arrangements, and the pot +boiling on the fire for the return of her husband from his labour in the +field. + +[Illustration: _‘My father,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘began what I merely +perpetuate.’_] + +‘Is it not astonishing,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘that there should be any +who think, as I know many do, the number of cottagers on their land a +grievance, and desire to be quit of them,[71] and have no feeling of +remorse in allotting to one solitary family as much extent of cultivated +land as was ploughed by the whole Roman people in the days of +Cincinnatus?[72] The three great points of every political system are +the health, the morals, and the number of the people. Without health and +morals the people cannot be happy; but without numbers they cannot be a +great and powerful nation, nor even exist for any considerable time.[73] +And by numbers I do not mean the inhabitants of the cities, the sordid +and sickly victims of commerce, and the effeminate and enervated slaves +of luxury; but in estimating the power and the riches of a country, I +take my only criterion from its agricultural population.’ + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII + THE ANTI-SACCHARINE FÊTE + + +Miss Evergreen accompanied them in their return, to preside at the +anti-saccharine fête. Mr. Hippy was turned out to make room for her in +the barouche, and took his seat on the roof with Messieurs Forester and +Fax. Anthelia no longer deemed it necessary to keep a guard over her +heart: the bud of mutual affection between herself and Mr. Forester, +both being, as they were, perfectly free and perfectly ingenuous, was +rapidly expanding into the full bloom of happiness: they dreamed not +that evil was near to check, if not to wither it. + +The whole party was prevailed on by Miss Evergreen to be her guests at +Redrose Abbey till after the anti-saccharine fête, which very shortly +took place, and was attended by the principal members of the +Anti-saccharine Society, and by an illustrious assemblage from near and +from far: amongst the rest by our old acquaintance, Mr. Derrydown, Mr. +O’Scarum, Major O’Dogskin, Mr. Sarcastic, the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, and +Mr. Feathernest the poet, who brought with him his friend Mr. Vamp the +reviewer. Lord Anophel Achthar and the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub deemed it +not expedient to join the party, but ensconced themselves in Alga +Castle, studying _michin malicho_, which means mischief. + +The anti-saccharine fête commenced with a splendid dinner, as Mr. +Forester thought to make luxury on this occasion subservient to +morality, by showing what culinary art could effect without the +intervention of West Indian produce; and the preparers of the feast, +under the superintendence of Miss Evergreen, had succeeded so well, that +the company testified very general satisfaction, except that a worthy +Alderman and Baronet from London (who had been studying the picturesque +at Low-wood Inn, and had given several manifestations of exquisite taste +that had completely won the hearts of Mr. O’Scarum and Major O’Dogskin) +having just helped himself to a slice of venison, fell back aghast +against the back of his chair, and dropped the knife and fork from his +nerveless hands, on finding that currant-jelly was prohibited: but being +recovered by an application of the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney’s +vinaigrette, he proceeded to revenge himself on a very fine pheasant, +which he washed down with floods of Madeira, being never at a loss for +some one to take wine with him, as he had the good fortune to sit +opposite to the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, who was _toujours prêt_ on the +occasion, and a _coup-d’œil_ between them arranged the whole preliminary +of the compotatory ceremonial. + +After dinner Mr. Forester addressed the company. They had seen, he said, +that culinary luxury could be carried to a great degree of refinement +without the intervention of West Indian produce: and though he himself +deprecated luxury altogether, yet he would waive that point for the +present, and concede a certain degree of it to those who fancied they +could not do without it, if they would only in return make so very +slight a concession to philanthropy, to justice, to liberty, to every +feeling of human sympathy, as to abstain from an indulgence which was +obtained by the most atrocious violation of them all, an indulgence of +which the foundations were tyranny, robbery, and murder, and every form +of evil, anguish, and oppression, at which humanity shudders; all which +were comprehended in the single name of SLAVERY. ‘Sugar,’ said he, ‘is +economically superfluous, nay, worse than superfluous: in the middling +classes of life it is a formidable addition to the expenses of a large +family, and for no benefit, for no addition to the stock of domestic +comfort, which is often sacrificed in more essential points to this +frivolous and wanton indulgence. It is physically pernicious, as its +destruction of the teeth, and its effects on the health of children much +pampered with sweetmeats, sufficiently demonstrate. It is morally +atrocious, from being the primary cause of the most complicated +corporeal suffering and the most abject mental degradation that ever +outraged the form and polluted the spirit of man. It is politically +abominable, for covering with every variety of wretchedness some of the +fairest portions of the earth, which, if the inhabitants of free +countries could be persuaded _to abstain from sugar till it were sent to +them by free men_, might soon become the abodes of happiness and +liberty. Slaves cannot breathe in the air of England: ‘They touch our +country and their fetters fall.’ Who is there among you that is not +proud of this distinction?—Yet this is not enough: the produce of the +labour of slavery should be banished from our shores. Not anything, not +an atom of anything, should enter an Englishman’s dwelling, on which the +Genius of Liberty had not set his seal. What would become of slavery if +there were no consumers of its produce? Yet I have seen a party of +pretended philanthropists sitting round a tea-table, and while they +dropped the sugar into their cups repeat some tale of the sufferings of +a slave, and execrate the colonial planters, who are but their caterers +and stewards—the obsequious ministers of their unfeeling sensuality! O +my fair countrywomen! you who have such tender hearts, such affectionate +spirits, such amiable and delicate feelings, do you consider the mass of +mischief and cruelty to which you contribute, nay, of which you are +among the primary causes, when you indulge yourselves in so paltry, so +contemptible a gratification as results from the use of sugar? while to +abstain from it entirely is a privation so trivial, that it is most +wonderful to think that Justice and Charity should have such a boon to +beg from Beauty in the name of the blood and the tears of human beings. +Be not deterred by the idea that you will have few companions by the +better way: so much the rather should it be strictly followed by amiable +and benevolent minds.[74] Secure to yourselves at least the delightful +consciousness of reflecting that you are in no way whatever accomplices +in the cruelty and crime of slavery, and accomplices in it you certainly +are, nay, its very original springs, as long as you are receivers and +consumers of its iniquitous acquisitions.’ + +‘I will answer you, Mr. Forester,’ said Mr. Sarcastic, ‘for myself and +the rest of the company. You shock our feelings excessively by calling +us the primary causes of slavery; and there are very few among us who +have not shuddered at the tales of West Indian cruelty. I assure you we +are very liberal of theoretical sympathy; but as to practical abstinence +from the use of sugar, do you consider what it is you require? Do you +consider how very agreeable to us is the sensation of sweetness in our +palates? Do you suppose we would give up that sensation because human +creatures of the same flesh and blood as ourselves are oppressed and +enslaved, and flogged and tortured, to procure it for us? Do you +consider that Custom[75] is the great lord and master of our conduct? +And do you suppose that any feeling of pity, and sympathy, and charity, +and benevolence, and justice, will overcome the power of Custom, more +especially where any pleasure of sense is attached to his dominion? In +appealing to our pockets, indeed, you touched us to the quick: you aimed +your eloquence at our weak side—you hit us in the vulnerable point; but +if it should appear that in this particular we really might save our +money, yet being expended in a matter of personal and sensual +gratification, it is not to be supposed so completely lost and wasted as +it would be if it were given either to a friend or a stranger in +distress. I will admit, however, that you have touched our feelings a +little, but this disagreeable impression will soon wear off: with some +of us it will last as long as pity for a starving beggar, and with +others as long as grief for the death of a friend; and I find, on a very +accurate average calculation, that the duration of the former may be +considered to be at least three minutes, and that of the latter at most +ten days. + +‘Mr. Sarcastic,’ said Anthelia, ‘you do not render justice to the +feelings of the company; nor is human nature so selfish and perverted as +you seem to consider it. Though there are undoubtedly many who sacrifice +the general happiness of humankind to their own selfish gratification, +yet even these, I am willing to believe, err not in cruelty but in +ignorance, from not seeing the consequences of their own actions; but it +is not by persuading them that all the world is as bad as themselves, +that you will give them clearer views and better feelings. Many are the +modes of evil—many the scenes of human suffering; but if the general +condition of man is ever to be ameliorated, it can only be through the +medium of BELIEF IN HUMAN VIRTUE.’ + +‘Well, Forester,’ said Sir Telegraph, ‘if you wish to increase the +numbers of the Anti-saccharine Society, set me down for one.’ + +‘Remember,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘by enrolling your name among us you +pledge yourself to perpetual abstinence from West Indian produce.’ + +‘I am aware of it,’ said Sir Telegraph, ‘and you shall find me zealous +in the cause.’ + +The fat Alderman cried out about the ruin of commerce, and Mr. Vamp was +very hot on the subject of the revenue. The question was warmly +canvassed, and many of the party who had not been quite persuaded by +what Mr. Forester had said in behalf of the anti-saccharine system, were +perfectly convinced in its favour when they had heard what Mr. Vamp and +the fat Alderman had to say against it; and the consequence was, that, +in spite of Mr. Sarcastic’s opinion of the general selfishness of +mankind, the numbers of the Anti-saccharine Society were very +considerably augmented. + +‘You see,’ said Mr. Fax to Mr. Sarcastic, ‘the efficacy of associated +sympathies. It is but to give an impulse of cooperation to any good and +generous feeling, and its progressive accumulation, like that of an +Alpine avalanche, though but a snowball at the summit, becomes a +mountain in the valley.’ + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII + THE CHESS DANCE + + +The dinner was followed by a ball, for the opening of which Sir +Telegraph Paxarett, who officiated as master of the ceremonies, had +devised a fanciful scheme, and had procured for the purpose a number of +appropriate masquerade dresses. An extensive area in the middle of the +ballroom was chalked out into sixty-four squares of alternate white and +red, in lines of eight squares each. Sir Telegraph, while the rest of +the company was sipping, not without many wry faces, their +anti-saccharine tea, called out into another apartment the gentlemen +whom he had fixed on to perform in his little ballet; and Miss Evergreen +at the same time withdrew with the intended female performers. Sir +Telegraph now invested Mr. Hippy with the dignity of White King, Major +O’Dogskin with that of Black King, and the Reverend Mr. Portpipe with +that of White Bishop, which the latter hailed as a favourable omen, not +precisely comprehending what was going forward. As the reverend +gentleman was the only one of his cloth in the company, Sir Telegraph +was under the necessity of appointing three lay Bishops, whom he fixed +on in the persons of two country squires, Mr. Hermitage and Mr. Heeltap, +and of the fat Alderman already mentioned, Sir Gregory Greenmould. Sir +Telegraph himself, Mr. O’Scarum, Mr. Derrydown, and Mr. Sarcastic, were +the Knights: and the Rooks were Mr. Feathernest the poet; Mr. +Paperstamp, another variety of the same genus, chiefly remarkable for an +affected infantine lisp in his speech, and for always wearing waistcoats +of a duffel gray; Mr. Vamp the reviewer; and Mr. Killthedead, from +Frogmarsh Hall, a great compounder of narcotics, under the denomination +of BATTLES, for he never heard of a deadly field, especially if dotage +and superstition, to which he was very partial, gained the advantage +over generosity and talent, both of which he abhorred, but immediately +seizing his goosequill and foolscap, + + He fought the BATTLE o’er again, + And twice he slew the slain. + +[Illustration: _The company was sipping, not without many wry faces, +their anti-saccharine tea._] + +Mr. Feathernest was a little nettled on being told that he was to be the +_King’s Rook_, but smoothed his wrinkled brow on being assured that no +_mauvaise plaisanterie_ was intended. + +The Kings were accordingly crowned, and attired in regal robes. The +Reverend Mr. Portpipe and his three brother Bishops were arrayed in full +canonicals. The Knights were equipped in their white and black armour, +with sword, and dazzling helm, and nodding crest. The Rooks were +enveloped in a sort of mural robe, with a headpiece formed on the model +of that which occurs in the ancient figures of Cybele; and thus attired +they bore a very striking resemblance to the walking wall in Pyramus and +Thisbe. + +The Kings now led the way to the ballroom, and the two beautiful Queens, +Miss Danaretta Contantina Pinmoney and Miss Celandina Paperstamp, each +with eight beautiful nymphs, arrayed for the mimic field in light +Amazonian dresses, white and black, did such instant execution among the +hearts of the young gentlemen present, that they might be said to have +‘fought and conquered ere a sword was drawn.’ + +They now proceeded to their stations on their respective squares: but +before we describe their manœuvres we will recapitulate the + + TRIPUDII PERSONAE + + WHITE + + _King_ MR. HIPPY. + _Queen_ MISS DANARETTA CONTANTINA PINMONEY. + _King’s Bishop_ THE REVEREND MR. PORTPIPE. + _Queen’s Bishop_ SIR GREGORY GREENMOULD. + _King’s Knight_ MR. O’SCARUM. + _Queen’s Knight_ SIR TELEGRAPH PAXARETT. + _King’s Rook_ MR. FEATHERNEST. + _Queen’s Rook_ MR. PAPERSTAMP. + _Eight Nymphs._ + + BLACK + + _King_ MAJOR O’DOGSKIN. + _Queen_ MISS CELANDINA PAPERSTAMP. + _King’s Bishop_ SQUIRE HERMITAGE. + _Queen’s Bishop_ SQUIRE HEELTAP. + _King’s Knight_ MR. SARCASTIC. + _Queen’s Knight_ MR. DERRYDOWN. + _King’s Rook_ MR. KILLTHEDEAD. + _Queen’s Rook_ MR. VAMP. + _Eight Nymphs._ + +Mr. Hippy took his station on a black square, near the centre of one of +the extreme lines, and Major O’Dogskin on an opposite white square of +the parallel extreme. The Queens, who were to command in chief, stood on +the left of the Kings: the Bishops were posted to the right and left of +their respective sovereigns; the Knights next to the Bishops; the +corners were occupied by the Rooks. The two lines in front of these +principal personages were occupied by the Nymphs;—a space of four lines +of eight squares each being left between the opposite parties for the +field of action. + +The array was now complete, with the exception of the Reverend Mr. +Portpipe, who being called by Miss Danaretta to take his place at the +right hand of Mr. Hippy, and perceiving that he should be necessitated, +in his character of Bishop, to take a very active part in the diversion, +began to exclaim with great vehemence, NOLO EPISCOPARI! which is +probably the only occasion on which these words were ever used with +sincerity. But Mr. O’Scarum, in his capacity of White Knight, pounced on +the reluctant divine, and placing him between himself and Mr. Hippy, +stood by him with his sword drawn, as if to prevent his escape; then +clapping a sword into the hand of the reverend gentleman, exhorted him +to conduct himself in a manner becoming an efficient member of the true +church militant. + +Lots were then cast for the privilege of attack; and the chance falling +on Miss Danaretta, the music struck up the tune of _The Triumph_, and +the whole of the white party began dancing, with their faces towards the +King, performing at the same time various manœuvres of the sword +exercise, with appropriate pantomimic gestures, expressive of their +entire devotion to His Majesty’s service, and their desire to be +immediately sent forward on active duty. In vain did the Reverend Mr. +Portpipe remonstrate with Mr. O’Scarum that his dancing days were over: +the inexorable Knight compelled him to caper and flourish his sword, +‘till the toil-drops fell from his brows like rain.’ Sir Gregory +Greenmould did his best on the occasion, and danced like an elephant in +black drapery; but Miss Danaretta and her eight lovely Nymphs rescued +the exertions of the male performers from too critical observation. King +Hippy received the proffered service of his army with truly royal +condescension. Miss Danaretta waved her sword with inimitable grace, and +made a sign to the damsel in front of the King to advance two squares. +The same manœuvres now took place on the black side; and Miss Celandina +sent forward the Nymph in front of Major O’Dogskin to obstruct the +further progress of the white damsel. The dancing now recommenced on the +white side, and Miss Danaretta ordered out the Reverend Mr. Portpipe to +occupy the fourth square in front of Squire Heeltap. The reverend +gentleman rolled forward with great alacrity, in the secret hope that he +should very soon be taken prisoner, and put _hors de combat_ for the +rest of the evening. Squire Hermitage was detached by Miss Celandina on +a similar service; and these two episcopal heroes being thus brought +together in the centre of the field, entered, like Glaucus and Diomede, +into a friendly parle, in the course of which the words Claret and +Burgundy were repeatedly overheard. The music frequently varied as in a +pantomime, according to circumstances: the manœuvres were always +directed by the waving of the sword of the Queen, and were always +preceded by the dancing of the whole party, in the manner we have +mentioned, which continued _ad libitum_, till she had decided on her +movement. The Nymph in front of Sir Gregory Greenmould advanced one +square. Mr. Sarcastic stepped forward to the third square of Squire +Hermitage. Miss Danaretta’s Nymph advanced two squares, and being +immediately taken prisoner by the Nymph of Major O’Dogskin, conceded her +place with a graceful bow, and retired from the field. The Nymph in +front of Sir Gregory Greenmould avenged the fate of her companion; and +Mr. Hippy’s Nymph withdrew in a similar manner. Squire Hermitage was +compelled to cut short his conversation with Mr. Portpipe, and retire to +the third square in front of Mr. Derrydown. Sir Telegraph skipped into +the place which Sir Gregory Greenmould’s Nymph had last forsaken. Mr. +Killthedead danced into the deserted quarters of Squire Hermitage, and +Major O’Dogskin swept round him with a minuet step into those of Mr. +Sarcastic. To carry on the detail would require more time than we can +spare, and, perhaps, more patience than our readers possess. The +Reverend Mr. Portpipe saw his party fall around him, one by one, and +survived against his will to the close of the contest. Miss Danaretta +and Miss Celandina moved like light over the squares, and Fortune +alternately smiled and frowned on their respective banners, till the +heavy mural artillery of Mr. Vamp being brought to bear on Mr. +Paperstamp, who fancied himself a tower of strength, the latter was +overthrown and carried off the field. Mr. Feathernest avenged his fate +on the embattled front of Mr. Killthedead, and fell himself beneath the +sword of Mr. Sarcastic. Squire Heeltap was taken off by the Reverend Mr. +Portpipe, who begged his courteous prisoner to walk to the sideboard and +bring him a glass of Madeira; for Homer, he said, was very orthodox in +his opinion that wine was a great refresher in the toils of war.[76] + +The changeful scene concluded by Miss Danaretta, with the aid of Sir +Telegraph and the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, hemming Major O’Dogskin into a +corner, where he was reduced to an incapacity of locomotion; on which +the Major bowed and made the best of his way to the sideboard, followed +by the reverend gentleman, who, after joining the Major in a pacific +libation, threw himself into an arm-chair, and slept very comfortably +till the annunciation of supper. + +Waltzes, quadrilles, and country dances followed in succession, and, +with the exception of the interval of supper, in which Miss Evergreen +developed all the treasures of anti-saccharine taste, were kept up with +great spirit till the rising of the sun. + +Anthelia, who of course did not join in the former, expressed to Mr. +Forester her astonishment to see waltzing in Redrose Abbey. ‘I did not +dream of such a thing,’ said Mr. Forester; ‘but I left the whole +arrangement of the ball to Sir Telegraph, and I suppose he deemed it +incumbent on him to consult _the general taste of the young ladies_. +Even I, young as I am, can remember the time when there was no point of +resemblance between an English girl in a private ballroom and a French +_figurante_ in a theatrical _ballet_; but waltzing and Parisian drapery +have levelled the distinction, and the only criterion of the difference +is the place of the exhibition. Thus every succeeding year witnesses +some new inroad on the simple manners of our ancestors; some importation +of continental vice and folly; some unnatural fretwork of tinsel and +frippery on the old Doric column of the domestic virtues of England. An +Englishman in stays, and an Englishwoman waltzing in treble-flounced +short petticoats, are anomalies so monstrous, that till they actually +existed, they never entered the most ominous visions of the speculators +on progressive degeneracy. What would our Alfred, what would our third +Edward, what would our Milton, and Hampden, and Sidney, what would the +barons of Runnymead have thought, if the voice of prophecy had denounced +to them a period, when the perfection of accomplishment in the daughters +of England would be found in the dress, manner, and action of the +dancing girls of Paris?’ + +The supper, of course, did not pass off without songs; and among them +Anthelia sang the following, which recalled to Mr. Forester their +conversation on the sea-shore. + + THE MORNING OF LOVE + + O the spring-time of life is the season of blooming, + And the morning of love is the season of joy; + Ere noontide and summer, with radiance consuming, + Look down on their beauty, to parch and destroy. + + O faint are the blossoms life’s pathway adorning, + When the first magic glory of hope is withdrawn; + For the flowers of the spring, and the light of the morning, + Have no summer budding, and no second dawn. + + Through meadows all sunshine, and verdure, and flowers, + The stream of the valley in purity flies; + But mix’d with the tides, where some proud city lowers, + O where is the sweetness that dwelt on its rise? + + The rose withers fast on the breast it first graces; + Its beauty is fled ere the day be half done:— + And life is that stream which its progress defaces, + And love is that flower which can bloom but for one. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX + THE DISAPPEARANCE + + +The morning after the fête Anthelia and her party returned to +Melincourt. Before they departed she conversed a few minutes alone with +Mr. Forester in his library. What was said on this occasion we cannot +precisely report; but it seemed to be generally suspected that Mr. +Hippy’s authority would soon be at an end, and that the services of the +Reverend Mr. Portpipe would be required in the old chapel of Melincourt +Castle, which, we are sorry to say, had fallen for some years past very +much into disuse, being never opened but on occasions of birth, +marriage, and death in the family; and these occasions, as our readers +are aware, had not of late been very numerous. + +The course of mutual love between Anthelia and Mr. Forester was as +smooth as the gliding of a skiff down a stream, through the flowery +meadows of June: and if matters were not quite definitely settled +between them, yet, as Mr. Forester was shortly to be a visitor at the +Castle, there was a very apparent probability that their intercourse +would terminate in that grand climax and finale of all romantic +adventure—marriage. + +After the departure of the ladies, Mr. Forester observed with concern +that his friend Sir Oran’s natural melancholy was visibly increased, and +Mr. Fax was of opinion that he was smitten with the tender passion: but +whether for Miss Melincourt, Mrs. Pinmoney, or Miss Danaretta, it was +not so easy to determine. But Sir Oran grew more and more fond of +solitude, and passed the greater part of the day in the woods, though it +was now the reign of the gloomy November, which, however, accorded with +the moody temper of his spirit; and he often went without his breakfast, +though he always came home to dinner. His perpetual companion was his +flute, with which he made sad response to the wintry wind. + +[Illustration: _Mr. Fax was of opinion that he was smitten._] + +Mr. Forester and Mr. Fax were one morning consulting on the means to be +adopted for diverting Sir Oran’s melancholy, when Sir Telegraph Paxarett +drove up furiously to the door—sprang from the box—and rushed into the +apartment with the intelligence that Anthelia had disappeared. No one +had seen her since the hour of breakfast on the preceding day. Mr. +Hippy, Mr. Derrydown, Mr. O’Scarum, and Major O’Dogskin were scouring +the country in all directions in search of her. + +Mr. Forester determined not to rest night or day till he had discovered +Anthelia. Sir Telegraph drove him, with Mr. Fax and Sir Oran, to the +nearest inn, where leaving Sir Telegraph to pursue another track, they +took a chaise-and-four, and posted over the country in all directions, +day after day, without finding any clue to her retreat. Mr. Forester had +no doubt that this adventure was connected with that which we have +detailed in the eighteenth chapter; but his ignorance of the actors on +that occasion prevented his deriving any light from the coincidence. At +length, having investigated in vain all the main and cross roads for +fifty miles round Melincourt, Mr. Fax was of opinion that she could not +have passed so far along any of them, being conveyed, as no doubt she +was, against her will, without leaving some trace of her course, which +their indefatigable inquiries must have discovered. He therefore advised +that they should discontinue their system of posting, and take a +thorough pedestrian perlustration of all the most bye and unfrequented +paths of the whole mountain-district, in some secluded part of which he +had a strong presentiment she would be found. This plan was adopted; but +the season was unfavourable to its expeditious accomplishment; and they +could sometimes make but little progress in a day, being often compelled +to turn aside from the wilder tracks, in search of a town or village, +for the purposes of refreshment or rest:—there being this remarkable +difference between the lovers of the days of chivalry and those of +modern times, that the former could pass a week or two in a desert or a +forest, without meat, drink, or shelter—a very useful art for all +travellers, whether lovers or not, which these degenerate days have +unfortunately lost. + +They arrived in the evening of the first day of their pedestrianism at a +little inn among the mountains. They were informed they could have no +beds; and that the only parlour was occupied by two gentlemen, who meant +to sit up all night, and would, perhaps, have no objection to their +joining the party. A message being sent in, an affirmative answer was +very politely returned; and on entering the apartment they discovered +Mr. O’Scarum and Major O’Dogskin engaged in a deep discussion over a +large jug of wine. + +‘Troth, now,’ said Mr. O’Scarum, ‘and this is a merry meeting, sure +enough, though it’s on a dismal occasion, for it’s Miss Melincourt +you’re looking for, as we are too, though you have most cause, Mr. +Forester; for I understand you are to be the happy man. Troth, and I did +not know so much when I came to your fête, or, perhaps, I should have +been for arguing the point of a prior claim (as far as my own consent +was concerned) over a bit of neat turf, twelve yards long; but Major +O’Dogskin tells me, that by getting muzzy, and so I did, sure enough, on +your old Madeira, and rare stuff it is, by my conscience, when Miss +Melincourt was in your house, I have sanctioned the matter, and there’s +an end of it: but, by my soul, I did not mean to have been cut out +quietly: and the Major says, too, you’re too good a fellow to be kilt, +and that’s true enough: so I’ll keep my ammunition for other friends; +and here’s to you and Miss Melincourt, and a happy meeting to you both, +and the devil take him that parts you, says Harum O’Scarum.’—‘And so +says Dermot O’Dogskin,’ said the Major. ‘And my friend O’Scarum and +myself will ride about till we get news of her, for we don’t mind a +little hardship.—You shall be wanting some dinner, joys, and there’s +nothing but fat bacon and potatoes; but we have made a shift with it, +and then here is the very creature itself, old sherry, my jewels! troth, +and how did we come home by it, think you? I know what it is to pass a +night in a little inn in the hills, and you don’t find Major O’Dogskin +turning out of the main road, without giving his man a couple of kegs of +wine just to balance the back of his saddle. Sherry’s a good traveller, +and will stand a little shaking; and what would one do without it in +such a place as this, where it is water in the desert, and manna in the +wilderness?’ + +Mr. Forester thanked them very warmly for their good wishes and active +exertions. The humble dinner of himself and his party was soon +despatched; after which, the Major placed the two little kegs on the +table and said, ‘They were both filled to-day; so, you see, there is no +lack of the good creature to keep us all alive till morning, and then we +shall part again in search of Miss Melincourt, the jewel! for there is +not such another on the face of the earth. Och!’ continued the Major, as +he poured the wine from one of the kegs into a brown jug; for the house +could not afford them a decanter, and some little ale tumblers supplied +the place of wine-glasses,—‘Och! the ould jug that never held anything +better than sour ale: how proud he must feel of being filled to the brim +with sparkling sherry, for the first and last time in the course of his +life!’ + + + + + CHAPTER XXX + THE PAPER-MILL + + +Taking leave of Mr. O’Scarum and Major O’Dogskin, they continued their +wandering as choice or chance directed: sometimes penetrating into the +most sequestered valleys; sometimes returning into the principal roads, +and investigating the most populous districts. Passing through the town +of Gullgudgeon, they found an immense crowd assembled in a state of +extreme confusion, exhibiting every symptom of hurry, anxiety, +astonishment, and dismay. They stopped to inquire the cause of the +tumult, and found it to proceed from the sudden explosion of a +paper-mill, in other words, the stoppage of the country bank of +Messieurs Smokeshadow, Airbubble, Hopthetwig, and Company. Farmers, +bumpkins, artisans, mechanics, tradesmen of all descriptions, the +innkeeper, the lawyer, the doctor, and the parson; soldiers from the +adjoining barracks, and fishermen from the neighbouring coast, with +their shrill-voiced and masculine wives, rolled in one mass, like a +stormy wave, around a little shop, of which the shutters were closed, +with the word BANK in golden letters over the door, and a large board on +the central shutter, notifying that ‘Messieurs Smokeshadow, Airbubble, +Hopthetwig, and Company had found themselves under the disagreeable +necessity of suspending their payments’; in plain English, had found it +expedient to fly by night, leaving all the machinery of their mill, and +all the treasures of their mine, that is to say, several reams of paper, +half a dozen account-books, a desk, a joint-stool, and inkstand, a bunch +of quills, and a copper-plate, to satisfy the claims of the distracted +multitude, who were shoaling in from all quarters, with _promises to +pay_, of the said Smokeshadow, Airbubble, Hopthetwig, and Company, to +the amount of a hundred thousand pounds. + +Mr. Fax addressed himself for an explanation of particulars to a plump +and portly divine, who was standing at a little distance from the rest +of the crowd, and whose countenance exhibited no symptoms of the rage, +grief, and despair which were depicted on the physiognomies of his +dearly beloved brethren of the town of Gullgudgeon. + +‘You seem, sir,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘to bear the general calamity with +Christian resignation.’ + +‘I do, sir,’ said the reverend gentleman, ‘and for a very orthodox +reason—I have none of their notes—not I. I was obliged to take them now +and then against my will, but I always sent them off to town, and got +cash for them directly.’ + +‘You mean to say,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘you got a Threadneedle Street +note for them.’ + +‘To be sure, sir,’ said the divine, ‘and that is the same thing as cash. +There is a Jacobin rascal in this town, who says it is a bad sign when +the children die before the parent, and that a day of reckoning must +come sooner or later for the old lady as well as for her daughters; but +myself and my brother magistrates have taken measures for him, and shall +soon make the town of Gullgudgeon too hot to hold him, as sure as my +name is Peppertoast.’ + +‘You seriously think, sir,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘that his opinion is false?’ + +‘Sir,’ said the reverend gentleman, somewhat nettled, ‘I do not know +what right any one can have to ask a man of my cloth what he seriously +thinks, when all that the world has to do with is what he seriously +says.’ + +‘Then you seriously say it, sir?’ said Mr. Fax. + +‘I do, sir,’ said the divine; ‘and for this very orthodox reason, that +the system of paper-money is inseparably interwoven with the present +order of things, and the present order of things I have made up my mind +to stick by, precisely as long as it lasts.’ + +‘_And no longer?_’ said Mr. Fax. + +‘I am no fool, sir,’ said the divine. + +‘But, sir,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘as you seem to have perceived the instability +of what is called (like _lucus a non lucendo_) the _firm_ of +Smokeshadow, Airbubble, Hopthetwig, and Company, why did not you warn +your flock of the impending danger?’ + +‘Sir,’ said the reverend gentleman, ‘I dined every week with one of the +partners.’ + +Mr. Forester took notice of an elderly woman who was sitting with a +small handful of dirty paper, weeping bitterly on the step of a door. +‘Forgive my intrusion,’ said he; ‘I need not ask you why you weep; the +cause is in your hand.’—‘Ah, sir!’ said the poor woman, who could hardly +speak for sobbing, ‘all the savings of twenty years taken from me in a +moment; and my poor boy, when he comes home from sea——’ She could say no +more: grief choked her utterance. + +‘Good God!’ said Mr. Fax, ‘did you lay by your savings in country +paper?’ + +‘O sir!’ said the poor woman, ‘how was I to know that one piece of paper +was not as good as another? And everybody said that the firm of +Smokeshadow, Airbubble, Hopthetwig, and Company was as good as the Bank +of England.’ She then unfolded one of the _promises to pay_, and fell to +weeping more bitterly than ever. Mr. Forester comforted her as well as +he could; but he found the purchasing of one or two of her notes much +more efficacious than all the lessons of his philosophy. + +‘This is all your fault,’ said a fisherman to his wife; ‘you would be +hoarding and hoarding, and stinting me of my drop of comfort when I came +in after a hard day’s work, tossed and beaten, and wet through with salt +water, and there’s what we’ve got by it.’ + +‘It was all your fault,’ retorted the wife; ‘when we had scraped +together twenty as pretty golden guineas as ever laid in a chest, you +would sell ’em, so you would, for twenty-seven pounds of Mr. +Smokeshadow’s paper; _and now you see the difference_.’ + +‘Here is an illustration,’ said Mr. Fax to Mr. Forester, ‘of the old +maxim of _experience teaching wisdom_, or, as Homer expresses it, ῥεχθεν +δε τε νηπιος ἐγνω.’ + +‘_We ought now to be convinced, if not before_,’ said Mr. Forester, +‘_that what Plato has said is strictly true, that there will be no end +of human misery till governors become philosophers or philosophers +governors_; and that all the evils which this country suffers, and, I +fear, will suffer to a much greater extent, from the bursting of this +fatal bubble of paper-money—this chimerical symbol of imaginary +riches—_are owing to the want of philosophy and true political wisdom in +our rulers, by which they might have seen things in their causes, not +felt them only in their effects, as even the most vulgar man does: and +by which foresight, all the mischiefs that are befalling us might have +been prevented_.’[77] + +‘Very hard,’ said an old soldier, ‘very, very hard:—a poor five pounds, +laid up for a rainy day,—hardly got, and closely kept—very, very hard.’ + +‘Poor man!’ said Mr. Forester, who was interested in the soldier’s +physiognomy, ‘let me repair your loss. Here is better paper for you; but +get gold and silver for it as soon as you can.’ + +‘God bless your honour,’ said the soldier, ‘and send as much power as +goodwill to all such generous souls. Many is the worthy heart that this +day’s work will break, and here is more damage than one man can mend. +God bless your honour.’ + +A respectable-looking female approached the crowd, and addressing +herself to Mr. Fax, who seemed most at leisure to her, asked him what +chance there seemed to be for the creditors of Messieurs Smokeshadow, +Airbubble, Hopthetwig, and Company. ‘By what I can gather from the +people around me,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘none whatever.’ The lady was in great +distress at this intelligence, and said they were her bankers, and it +was the second misfortune of the kind that had happened to her. Mr. Fax +expressed his astonishment that she should have been twice the victim of +the system of paper-coinage, which seemed to contradict the old adage +about a burnt child; and said it was for his part astonishing to him how +any human being could be so deluded after the perils of the system had +been so clearly pointed out, and amongst other things, in a pamphlet of +his own on the Insubstantiality of Smoke. ‘Indeed,’ she said, ‘she had +something better to do than to trouble herself about politics, and +wondered he should insult her in her distress by talking of such stuff +to her.’ + +‘Was ever such infatuation?’ said Mr. Fax, as the lady turned away. +‘This is one of those persons who choose to walk blindfold on the edge +of a precipice, because it is too much trouble to see, and quarrel with +their best friends for requesting them to make use of their eyes. There +are many such, who think they have no business with politics; but they +find to their cost that politics will have business with them.’ + +‘A curse light on all kite-flyers!’ vociferated a sturdy farmer. ‘Od +rabbit me, here be a bundle o’ trash, measters! not worth a +voive-and-zixpenny dollar all together. This comes o’ peaper-mills. “I +promise to pay,” ecod! O the good old days o’ goulden guineas, when I +used to ride whoame vrom market wi’ a great heavy bag in my pocket; and +when I whopped it down on the old oak teable, it used to make zuch a +zound as did one’s heart good to hear it. No _promise to pay_ then. Now +a man may eat his whole vortin in a zandwich, or zet vire to it in a +vardin rushlight. Promise to pay!—the lying rascals, they never meant to +pay: they knew all the while they had no effects to pay; but zuch a +pretty, zmooth-spoken, palavering zet o’ fellers! why, Lord bless you! +they’d ha’ made you believe black was white! and though you could never +get anything of ’em but one o’ their own dirty bits o’ peaper in change +vor another, they made it out as clear as daylight that they were as +rich as zo many Jews. Ecod! and we were all vools enough to believe ’em, +and now mark the end o’t.’ + +‘Yes, father,’ said a young fop at his elbow, ‘all blown, curse me!’ + +‘Ees,’ said the farmer, ‘and thee beest blown, and thee mun zell thy +hunter, and turn to the plough-tail; and thy zisters mun churn butter, +and milk the cows, instead of jingling penny-vorties, and dancing at +race-balls wi’ squires. We mun be old English varmers again, and none o’ +your voine high-flying promise-to-pay gentlevolks. There they be—spell +’em: _I promise to pay to Mr. Gregory Gas, or bearer, on demand, the zum +o’ voive pounds. Gullgudgeon Bank, April the virst. Vor Zmokeshadow, +Airbubble, Zelf, and Company, Henry Hopthetwig. Entered, William +Walkoff._ And there be their coat o’ arms: two blacksmiths blowing a +vorge, wi’ the chimney vor a crest, and a wreath o’ smoke coming out +o’t; and the motto, ‘YOU CAN’T CATCH A BOWLFUL.’ Od rabbit me! here be a +whole handvul of ’em, and I’ll zell ’em all vor a voive-and-zixpenny +dollar.’ + +The ‘Jacobin rascal,’ of whom the reverend gentleman had spoken, +happened to be at the farmer’s elbow. ‘I told you how it would be,’ said +he, ‘Master Sheepshead, many years ago; and I remember you wanted to put +me in the stocks for my trouble.’ + +‘Why, I believe I did, Mr. Lookout,’ said the farmer, with a very +penitent face; ‘but if you’ll call on me zome day we’ll drown old +grudges in a jug o’ ale, and light our poipes wi’ the promises o’ +Measter Hopthetwig and his gang.’ + +‘Not with all of them I entreat you,’ said Mr. Lookout. ‘I hope you will +have one of them framed and glazed, and suspended over your chimney, as +a warning to your children, and your children’s children for ever, +against “_the blessed comforts of paper-money_.”’ + +‘Why, Lord love you, Measter Lookout,’ said the farmer, ‘we shall ha’ +nothing but peaper-money still, you zee, only vrom another mill like.’ + +‘As to that, Master Sheepshead,’ replied Mr. Lookout, ‘I will only say +to you in your own phrase, MARK THE END O’T.’ + +‘Do you hear him?’ said the Rev. Mr. Peppertoast; ‘do you hear the +Jacobin rascal? Do you hear the libellous, seditious, factious, +levelling, revolutionary, republican, democratical, atheistical +villain?’ + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI + CIMMERIAN LODGE + + +After a walk of some miles from the town of Gullgudgeon, where no +information was to be obtained of Anthelia, their path wound along +the shores of a lonely lake, embosomed in dark pine-groves and +precipitous rocks. As they passed near a small creek, they +observed a gentleman just stepping into a boat, who paused and +looked up at the sound of their approximation; and Mr. Fax +immediately recognised the poeticopolitical, rhapsodicoprosaical, +deisidaemoniacoparadoxographical, pseudolatreiological, +transcendental meteorosophist, Moley Mystic, Esquire, of Cimmerian +Lodge. This gentleman’s Christian name, according to his own +account, was improperly spelt with an _e_, and was in truth +nothing more nor less than + + That Moly, + Which Hermes erst to wise Ulysses gave; + +and which was, in the mind of Homer, _a pure anticipated cognition_ of +the system of Kantian metaphysics, or grand transcendental science of +the _luminous obscure_; for it had a _dark root_,[78] which was mystery; +and _a white flower_, which was abstract truth: _it was called Moly by +the gods_, who then kept it to themselves; and was _difficult to be dug +up by mortal men_, having, in fact, lain _perdu_ in subterranean +darkness till the immortal Kant dug for it _under the stone of doubt_, +and produced it to the astonished world as the _root of human science_. +Other persons, however, derived his first name differently; and +maintained that the _e_ in it showed it very clearly to be a corruption +of _Mole-eye_, it being the opinion of some naturalists that the _mole_ +has _eyes_, which it can withdraw or project at pleasure, implying a +faculty of wilful blindness, most happily characteristic of a +transcendental metaphysician; since, according to the old proverb, _None +are so blind as those who won’t see_. But be that as it may, Moley +Mystic was his name, and Cimmerian Lodge was his dwelling. + +Mr. Mystic invited Mr. Fax and his friends to step with him into the +boat, and cross over his lake, which he called the _Ocean of Deceitful +Form_, to the _Island of Pure Intelligence_, on which Cimmerian Lodge +was situated: promising to give them a great treat in looking over his +grounds, which he had laid out according to the _topography of the human +mind_; and to enlighten them, through the medium of ‘darkness visible,’ +with an opticothaumaturgical process of transcendentalising a +_cylindrical mirror_, which should teach them the difference between +_objective_ and _subjective reality_.[79] Mr. Forester was unwilling to +remit his search, even for a few hours; but Mr. Fax observing that great +part of the day was gone, and that Cimmerian Lodge was very remote from +the human world; so that if they did not avail themselves of Mr. +Mystic’s hospitality, they should probably be reduced to the necessity +of passing the night among the rocks, _sub Jove frigido_, which he did +not think very inviting, Mr. Forester complied; and with Mr. Fax and Sir +Oran Haut-ton stepped into the boat. The reader who is deficient in +_taste for the bombast_, and is no _admirer of the obscure_, may as well +wait on the shore till they return. But we must not enter the regions of +mystery without an Orphic invocation. + + ὙΠΝΕ ἀναξ, καλεω δε μολειν κεχαρηοτα ΜΥΣΤΑΙΣ· + και δε, μακαρ, λιτομαι, Tανυδιπτερε, οὐλε ὈΝΕΙΡΕ· + και ΝΕΦΕΛΑΣ καλεω, δροσοειμονας, ἠεροπλαγκτους· + ΝΥΚΤΑ τε πρεσβιστην, πολυηρατον ὈΡΓΙΟΦΑΝΤΑΙΣ, + ΝΥΚΤΕΡΙΟΥΣ τε ΘΕΟΥΣ, ὑπο κευθεδιν οἰκι έχοντας, + ἀντρῳ ἐν ἠεροεντι, παρα ΣΤΥΓΟΣ ἱερον ὑδωρ· + ΠΡΩΤΕΙ συν πολυβουλῳ, ὁν ὈΛΒΟΔΟΤΗΝ[80] καλεουσιν. + + Ο sovereign Sleep! in whose papaverous glen + Dwell the dark Muses of Cimmerian men! + O Power of Dreams! whose dusky pinions shed + Primaeval chaos on the slumberer’s head! + Ye misty Clouds! amid whose folds sublime + Blind Faith invokes the Ghost of Feudal Time! + And thou, thick night! beneath whose mantle rove + The Phantom Powers of Subterranean Jove! + Arise, propitious to the mystic strain, + From Lethe’s flood, and Zeal’s Tartarian fane; + Where Freedom’s Shade, ‘mid Stygian vapours damp, + Sits, cold and pale, by Truth’s extinguished lamp; + While Cowls and Crowns portentous orgies hold, + And tuneful Proteus seals his eyes with gold! + +They had scarcely left the shore when they were involved in a fog of +unprecedented density, so that they could not see one another; but they +heard the dash of Mr. Mystic’s oars, and were consoled by his assurances +that he could not miss his way in a state of the atmosphere so +consentaneous to his peculiar mode of vision; for that, though, in +navigating his little skiff on the _Ocean of Deceitful Form_, he had +very often wandered wide and far from the _Island of Pure Intelligence_, +yet this had always happened when he went with his eyes open, in broad +daylight; but that he had soon found the means of obviating this little +inconvenience, by always keeping his eyes close shut whenever the sun +had the impertinence to shine upon him. + +He immediately added that he would take the opportunity of making a +remark perfectly in point: ‘that Experience was a Cyclops, with his eye +in the back of his head’; and when Mr. Fax remarked that he did not see +the connection, Mr. Mystic said he was very glad to hear it; for he +should be sorry if any one but himself could see the connection of his +ideas, as he arranged his thoughts _on a new principle_. + +They went steadily on through the dense and heavy air, over waters that +slumbered like the Stygian pool; a chorus of frogs, that seemed as much +delighted with their own melody as if they had been an oligarchy of +poetical critics, regaling them all the way with the Aristophanic +symphony of BREK-EK-EK-EX! KO-AX! KO-AX![81] till the boat fixed its +keel in the _Island of Pure Intelligence_; and Mr. Mystic landed his +party, as Charon did Aeneas and the Sibyl, in a bed of weeds and +mud:[82] after floundering in which for some time, from losing their +guide in the fog, they were cheered by the sound of his voice from +above, and scrambling up the bank, found themselves on a hard and barren +rock; and, still following the sound of Mr. Mystic’s voice, arrived at +Cimmerian Lodge. + +The fog had penetrated into all the apartments: there was fog in the +hall, fog in the parlour, fog on the staircases, fog in the bedrooms; + + The fog was here, the fog was there, + The fog was all around. + +It was a little rarefied in the kitchen, by virtue of the enormous fire; +so far, at least, that the red face of the cook shone through it, as +they passed the kitchen door, like the disk of the rising moon through +the vapours of an autumnal river: but to make amends for this, it was +condensed almost into solidity in the library, where the voice of their +invisible guide bade them welcome to the _adytum_ of the LUMINOUS +OBSCURE. + +Mr. Mystic now produced what he called his _synthetical torch_, and +requested them to follow him, and look over his grounds. Mr. Fax said it +was perfectly useless to attempt it in such a state of the atmosphere; +but Mr. Mystic protested that it was the only state of the atmosphere in +which they could be seen to advantage; as daylight and sunshine utterly +destroyed their beauty. + +They followed the ‘darkness visible’ of the _synthetical torch_, which, +according to Mr. Mystic, _shed around it the rays of transcendental +illumination_; and he continued to march before them, walking, and +talking, and pointing out innumerable images of singularly nubilous +beauty, though Mr. Forester and Mr. Fax both declared they could see +nothing but the fog and ‘_la pale lueur du magique flambeau_‘: till Mr. +Mystic observing that they were now in a _Spontaneity free from Time or +Space_, and at the point of _Absolute Limitation_, Mr. Fax said he was +very glad to hear it; for in that case they could go no farther. Mr. +Mystic observed that they must go farther; for they were entangled in a +maze, from which they would never be able to extricate themselves +without his assistance; and he must take the liberty to tell them that +_the categories of modality were connected into the idea of absolute +necessity_. As this was spoken in a high tone, they took it to be meant +for a reprimand; which carried the more weight as it was the less +understood. At length, after floundering on another half-hour, the fog +still thicker and thicker, and the torch still dimmer and dimmer, they +found themselves once more in Cimmerian Lodge. + +[Illustration: _Mr. Mystic observed that they must go farther._] + +Mr. Mystic asked them how they liked his grounds, and they both repeated +they had seen nothing of them: on which he flew into a rage and called +them _empirical psychologists_, and _slaves of definition, induction, +and analysis_, which he intended for terms of abuse, but which were not +taken for such by the persons to whom he addressed them. + +Recovering his temper, he observed that it was nearly the hour of +dinner: and as they did not think it worth while to be angry with him, +they contented themselves with requesting that they might dine in the +kitchen, which seemed to be the only spot on the _Island of Pure +Intelligence_ in which there was a glimmer of light. + +Mr. Mystic remarked that he thought this very bad taste, but that he +should have no objection if the cook would consent; who, he observed, +had paramount dominion over that important division of the _Island of +Pure Intelligence_. The cook, with a little murmuring, consented for +once to evacuate her citadel as soon as the dinner was on table; +entering, however, a protest, that this infringement on her privileges +should not be pleaded as a precedent. + +Mr. Fax was afraid that Mr. Mystic would treat them as Lord Peter +treated his brothers; that he would put nothing on the table, and regale +them with a dissertation on the _pure idea of absolute substance_; but +in this he was agreeably disappointed; for the _anticipated cognition_ +of a good dinner very soon smoked before them, in the _relation of +determinate coexistence_; and the _objective phenomenon_ of some +superexcellent Madeira quickly put the whole party in perfect good +humour. It appeared, indeed, to have a diffusive quality of occult and +mysterious virtue; for, with every glass they drank, the fog grew thin, +till by the time they had taken off four bottles among them, it had +totally disappeared. + +Mr. Mystic now prevailed on them to follow him to the library, where +they found a blazing fire and a four-branched gas-lamp, shedding a much +brighter radiance than that of the _synthetical torch_. He said he had +been obliged to light this lamp, as it seemed they could not see by the +usual illumination of Cimmerian Lodge. The brilliancy of the gas-lights +he much disapproved; but he thought it would be very unbecoming in a +transcendental philosopher to employ any other material for a purpose to +which _smoke_ was applicable. Mr. Fax said he should have thought, on +the contrary, that _ex fumo dare lucem_ would have been, of all things, +the most repugnant to his principles; and Mr. Mystic replied that it had +not struck him so before, but that Mr. Fax’s view of the subject ‘was +exquisitely dusky and fuliginous’: this being his usual mode of +expressing approbation, instead of the common phraseology of _bright +thoughts_ and _luminous ideas_, which were equally abhorrent to him both +in theory and practice. However, he said, there the light was, for their +benefit, and not for his: and as other men’s light was his darkness, he +should put on a pair of spectacles of smoked glass, which no one could +see through but himself. Having put on his spectacles, he undrew a black +curtain, discovered a _cylindrical mirror_, and placed a sphere before +it with great solemnity. ‘This sphere,’ said he, ‘is an oblong spheroid +in the perception of the cylindrical mirror: as long as the mirror +thought that the object of his perception was the real external oblong +spheroid, he was a mere _empirical philosopher_; but he has grown wiser +since he has been in my library; and by reflecting very deeply on the +degree in which the manner of his construction might influence the forms +of his perception, has taken a very opaque and tenebricose view of how +much of the spheroidical perception belongs to the _object_, which is +the sphere, and how much to the _subject_, which is himself, in his +quality of _cylindrical mirror_. He has thus discovered the difference +between _objective_ and _subjective reality_: and this point of view is +_transcendentalism_.’ + +‘A very dusky and fuliginous speculation, indeed,’ said Mr. Fax, +complimenting Mr. Mystic in his own phrase. + +Tea and coffee were brought in. ‘I divide my day,’ said Mr. Mystic, ‘_on +a new principle_: I am always poetical at breakfast, moral at luncheon, +metaphysical at dinner, and political at tea. Now you shall know my +opinion of the hopes of the world.—General discontent shall be the basis +of public resignation![83] The materials of political gloom will build +the steadfast frame of hope.[84] The main point is to get rid of +analytical reason, which is experimental and practical, and live only by +faith,[85] which is synthetical and oracular. The contradictory +interests of ten millions may neutralise each other.[86] But the spirit +of Antichrist is abroad:[87]—the people read!—nay, they think!! The +people read and think!!! The public, the public in general, the swinish +multitude, the many-headed monster, actually reads and thinks!!!![88] +Horrible in thought, but in fact most horrible! Science classifies +flowers. Can it make them bloom where it has placed them in its +classification![89] No. Therefore flowers ought not to be classified. +This is transcendental logic. Ha! in that cylindrical mirror I see three +shadowy forms:—dimly I see them through the smoked glass of my +spectacles. Who art thou?—MYSTERY!—I hail thee! Who art thou?—JARGON—I +love thee! Who art thou?—SUPERSTITION!—I worship thee! Hail, +transcendental TRIAD!’ + +Mr. Fax cut short the thread of his eloquence by saying he would trouble +him for the cream-jug. + +[Illustration: _Sir Oran Haut-ton ascending the stairs with the great +rain-water tub._] + +Mr. Mystic began again, and talked for three hours without intermission, +except that he paused a moment on the entrance of sandwiches and +Madeira. His visitors sipped his wine in silence till he had fairly +talked himself hoarse. Neither Mr. Fax nor Mr. Forester replied to his +paradoxes; for to what end, they thought, should they attempt to answer +what few would hear and none would understand? + +It was now time to retire, and Mr. Mystic showed his guests to the doors +of their respective apartments, in each of which a gas-light was +burning, and ascended another flight of stairs to his own dormitory, +with a little twinkling taper in his hand. Mr. Forester and Mr. Fax +stayed a few minutes on the landing-place, to have a word of +consultation before they parted for the night. Mr. Mystic gained the +door of his apartment—turned the handle of the lock—and had just +advanced one step—when the whole interior of the chamber became suddenly +sheeted with fire: a tremendous explosion followed; and he was +precipitated to the foot of the stairs in _the smallest conceivable +fraction of the infinite divisibility of time_. + +Mr. Forester picked him up, and found him not much hurt, only a little +singed, and very much frightened. But the whole interior of the +apartment continued to blaze. Mr. Forester and Sir Oran Haut-ton ran for +water: Mr. Fax rang the nearest bell: Mr. Mystic vociferated ‘Fire!’ +with singular energy: the servants ran about half-undressed: pails, +buckets, and pitchers, were in active requisition; till Sir Oran +Haut-ton ascending the stairs with the great rain-water tub, containing +one hundred and eight gallons of water,[90] threw the whole contents on +the flames with one sweep of his powerful arm. + +The fire being extinguished, it remained to ascertain its cause. It +appeared that the gas-tube in Mr. Mystic’s chamber had been left +unstopped, and the gas evolving without combustion (the apartment being +perfectly air-tight), had condensed into a mass, which, on the approach +of Mr. Mystic’s taper, instantly ignited, blowing the transcendentalist +downstairs, and setting fire to his curtains and furniture. + +Mr. Mystic, as soon as he recovered from his panic, began to bewail the +catastrophe: not so much, he said, for itself, as because such an event +in Cimmerian Lodge was an infallible omen of evil—a type and symbol of +an approaching period of public light—when the smoke of metaphysical +mystery, and the vapours of ancient superstition, which he had done all +that in him lay to consolidate in the spirit of man, would explode at +the touch of analytical reason, leaving nothing but the plain common +sense matter-of-fact of moral and political truth—a day that he +earnestly hoped he might never live to see. + +‘Certainly,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘it is a very bad omen for all who make +it their study to darken the human understanding, when one of the +pillars of their party _is blown up by his own smoke_; but the symbol, +as you call it, may operate as a warning to the apostles of +superstitious chimaera and political fraud, that it is very possible +_for smoke to be too thick_; and that, in condensing in the human mind +the vapours of ignorance and delusion, they are only compressing a body +of inflammable gas, of which the explosion will be fatal in precise +proportion to its density.’ + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII + THE DESERTED MANSION + + +They rose, as usual, before daylight, that they might pursue their +perlustration; and, on descending, found Mr. Mystic awaiting them at a +table covered with a sumptuous apparatus of tea and coffee, a pyramid of +hot rolls, and a variety of cold provision. Cimmerian Lodge, he said, +was famous for its breed of tame geese, and he could recommend the cold +one on the table as one of his own training. The breakfast being +despatched, he rowed them over the _Ocean of Deceitful Form_ before the +sun rose to disturb his navigation. + +After walking some miles, a ruined mansion at the end of an ancient +avenue of elms attracted their attention. As they made a point of +leaving no place unexamined, they walked up to it. There was an air of +melancholy grandeur in its loneliness and desolation which interested +them to know its history. The briers that choked the court, the weeds +that grew from the fissures of the walls and on the ledges of the +windows, the fractured glass, the half-fallen door, the silent and +motionless clock, the steps worn by the tread of other years, the total +silence of the scene of ancient hospitality, broken only by the voices +of the rooks whose nests were in the elms, all carried back the mind to +the years that were gone. There was a sun-dial in the centre of the +court: the sun shone on the brazen plate, and the shadow of the index +fell on the line of noon. ‘Nothing impresses me more,’ said Mr. +Forester, ‘in a ruin of this kind, than the contrast between the +sun-dial and the clock, which I have frequently observed. This contrast +I once made the basis of a little poem, which the similarity of +circumstances induces me to repeat to you though you are no votary of +the spirit of rhyme.’ + + THE SUN-DIAL + + The ivy o’er the mouldering wall + Spreads like a tree, the growth of years: + The wild wind through the doorless hall + A melancholy music rears, + A solitary voice, that sighs, + O’er man’s forgotten pageantries. + Above the central gate, the clock, + Through clustering ivy dimly seen, + Seems, like the ghost of Time, to mock + The wrecks of power that once has been. + The hands are rusted on its face; + Even where they ceased, in years gone by, + To keep the flying moments’ pace: + Fixing, in Fancy’s thoughtful eye, + A point of ages passed away, + A speck of time, that owns no tie + With aught that lives and breathes to-day. + But ‘mid the rank and towering grass, + Where breezes wave, in mournful sport, + The weeds that choke the ruined court, + The careless hours, that circling pass, + Still trace upon the dialled brass + The shade of their unvarying way: + And evermore, with every ray + That breaks the clouds and gilds the air, + Time’s stealthy steps are imaged there: + Even as the long-revolving years + In self-reflecting circles flow, + From the first bud the hedgerow bears, + To wintry nature’s robe of snow. + The changeful forms of mortal things + Decay and pass; and art and power + Oppose in vain the doom that flings + Oblivion on their closing hour; + While still, to every woodland vale, + New blooms, new fruits, the seasons bring, + For other eyes and lips to hail + With looks and sounds of welcoming: + As where some stream light-eddying roves + By sunny meads and shadowy groves, + Wave following wave departs for ever, + But still flows on the eternal river. + +[Illustration: _Mr. Forester made inquiries of him._] + +An old man approached them, in whom they observed that look of healthy +and cheerful antiquity which showed that time only, and neither pain nor +sickness, had traced wrinkles on his cheek. Mr. Forester made inquiries +of him on the object he had most at heart: but the old man could give no +gleam of light to guide his steps. Mr. Fax then asked some questions +concerning the mansion before them. + +‘Ah, zur!’ said the old man, ‘this be the zeat o’ Squire Openhand: but +he doan’t live here now; the house be growed too large vor’n, as one may +zay. I remember un playing about here on the grass-plot, when he was +half as high as the sun-dial poast, as if it was but yesterday. The days +that I ha’ zeed here! Rare doings there used to be wi’ the house vull o’ +gentlevolks zometimes to be zure: but what he loiked best was, to zee a +merry-making of all his tenants, round the great oak that stands there +in the large vield by himzelf. He used to zay if there was anything he +could not abide it was the zight of a zorrowful feace; and he was always +prying about to voind one: and if he did voind one, Lord bless you! it +was not a zorrowful feace long, if it was anything that he could mend. +Zo he lived to the length of his line, as the zaying is; and when times +grew worse, it was a hard matter to draw in; howsomdever he did; and +when the tax-gatherers came every year vor more and more, and the +peaper-money flew about, buying up everything in the neighbourhood; and +every vifty pounds he got in peaper wasn’t worth, as he toald me, vorty +pounds o’ real money, why there was every year fewer horses in his +steable, and less wine on his board: and every now and then came a queer +zort o’ chap dropped out o’ the sky like—a vundholder he called un—and +bought a bit of ground vor a handvul o’ peaper, and built a cottage +horny, as they call it—there be one there on the hill-zide—and had +nothing to do wi’ the country people, nor the country people wi’ he: +nothing in the world to do, as we could zee, but to eat and drink, and +make little bits o’ shrubberies, o’ quashies, and brutuses, and zelies, +and cubies, and filigrees, and ruddydunderums, instead o’ the oak +plantations the old landlords used to plant; and the Squire could never +abide the zight o’ one o’ they gimcrack boxes; and all the while he was +nailing up a window or two every year, and his horses were going one +way, and his dogs another, and his old zervants were zent away, one by +one, wi’ heavy hearts, poor souls, and at last it came that he could not +get half his rents, and zome o’ his tenants went to the workhouse, and +others ran away, because o’ the poor-rates, and everything went to zixes +and zevens, and I used to meet the Squire in his walks, and think to +myzelf it was very hard that he who could not bear to zee a zorrowful +feace should have zuch a zorrowful one of his own; and he used to zay to +me whenever I met un: “All this comes o’ peaper-money, Measter +Hawthorn.” Zo the upshot was, he could not afford any longer to live in +his own great house, where his vorevathers had lived out o’ memory of +man, and went to zome outlandish place wi’ his vamily to live, as he +said, in much zuch a box as that gimcrack thing on the hill.’ + +‘You have told us a very melancholy story,’ said Mr. Forester; ‘but at +present, I fear, a very common one, and one of which, if the present +system continue, every succeeding year will multiply examples.’ + +‘Ah, zur!’ said the old man, ‘there was them as vorezeed it long ago, +and voretold it too, up in the great house in Lunnon, where they zettles +the affairs o’ the nation: a pretty of zettling it be, to my thinking, +to vill the country wi’ tax-gatherers and vundholders, and peaper-money +men, that turns all the old families out o’ the country, and zends their +tenants to the workhouse: but there was them as vorezeed and voretold it +too, but nobody minded ’em then: they begins to mind ’em now.’ + +‘But how do you manage in these times?’ said Mr. Forester. + +‘I lives, measter,’ said the old man, ‘and pretty well too, vor myself. +I had a little vreehold varm o’ my own, that has been in my vamily zeven +hundred year, and we woan’t part wi’ it, I promise you, vor all the +tax-collectors and vundholders in England. But my zon was never none o’ +your gentleman varmers, none a’ your reacing and hunting bucks, that +it’s a shame vor a honest varmer to be: he always zet his shoulder to +the wheel—alway a-vield by peep o’ day: zo now I be old, I’ve given up +the varm to him; and that I wouldn’t ha’ done to the best man in all the +county bezide: but he’s my son, and I loves un. Zo I walks about the +vields all day, and sits all the evening in the chimney-corner wi’ an +old neighbour or zo, and a jug o’ ale, and talks over old times, when +the Openhands, and zuch as they, could afford to live in the homes o’ +their vorevathers. It be a bad state o’ things, my measters, and must +come to a bad end, zooner or later; but it’ll last my time.’ + +‘You are not in the last stage of a consumption, are you, honest +friend?’ said Mr. Fax. + +‘Lord love you, no, measter,’ said the old farmer, rather frightened; +‘do I look zo?’ + +‘No,’ said Mr. Fax; ‘but you talked so.’ + +‘Ah! thee beest a wag, I zee,’ said the farmer. ‘Things be in a +conzumption zure enough, but they’ll last my time vor all that; and if +they doan’t it’s no fault o’ mine; and I’se no money in the vunds, nor +no sinecure pleace, zo I eats my beefsteak and drinks my ale, and lets +the world slide.’ + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII + THE PHANTASM + + +The course of their perambulations brought them into the vicinity of +Melincourt, and they stopped at the Castle to inquire if any +intelligence had been obtained of Anthelia. The gate was opened to them +by old Peter Gray, who informed them that himself and the female +domestics were at that time the only inmates of the Castle, as the other +male domestics had gone off at the same time with Mr. Hippy in search of +their young mistress; and the Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney and Miss +Danaretta were gone to London, because of the opera being open. + +Mr. Forester inquired of the manner of Anthelia’s disappearance. Old +Peter informed him that she had gone into her library as usual after +breakfast, and when the hour of dinner arrived she was missing. The +central window was open, as well as the little postern door of the +shrubbery that led into the dingle, the whole vicinity of which they had +examined, and had found the recent print of horses’ feet on a narrow +green road that skirted the other side of the glen; these traces they +had followed till they had totally lost them in a place where the road +became hard and rocky, and divided into several branches: the pursuers +had then separated into parties of two and three, and each party had +followed a different branch of the road, but they had found no clue to +guide them, and had hitherto been unsuccessful. He should not himself, +he said, have remained inactive, but Mr. Hippy had insisted on his +staying to take care of the Castle. He then observed that, as it was +growing late, he should humbly advise their continuing where they were +till morning. To this they assented, and he led the way to the library. + +Everything in the library remained precisely in the place in which +Anthelia left it. Her chair was near the table, and the materials of +drawing were before it. The gloom of the winter evening, which was now +closing in, was deepened through the stained glass of the windows. The +moment the door was thrown open, Mr. Forester started, and threw himself +forward into the apartment towards Anthelia’s chair; but before he +reached it, he stopped, placed his hand before his eyes, and, turning +round, leaned for support on the arm of Mr. Fax. He recovered himself in +a few minutes, and sate down by the table. Peter Gray, after kindling +the fire, and lighting the Argand lamp that hung from the centre of the +apartment, went to give directions on the subject of dinner. + +Mr. Forester observed, from the appearance of the drawing materials, +that they had been hastily left, and he saw that the last subject on +which Anthelia had been employed was a sketch of Redrose Abbey. He sate +with his head leaning on his hand, and his eyes fixed on the drawing in +perfect silence. Mr. Fax thought it best not to disturb his meditations, +and took up a volume that was lying open on the table, the last that +Anthelia had been reading. It was a posthumous work of the virtuous and +unfortunate Condorcet, in which that most amiable and sublime +enthusiast, contemplating human nature in the light of his own exalted +spirit, had delineated a beautiful vision of the future destinies of +mankind.[91] + +Sir Oran Haut-ton kept his eyes fixed on the door with looks of anxious +impatience, and showed manifest and increasing disappointment at every +re-entrance of Old Peter, who at length summoned them to dinner. + +Mr. Fax was not surprised that Mr. Forester had no appetite, but that +Sir Oran had lost his appeared to him extremely curious. The latter grew +more and more uneasy, rose from table, took a candle in his hand, and +wandered from room to room, searching every closet and corner in the +Castle, to the infinite amazement of Old Peter Gray, who followed him +everywhere, and became convinced that the poor gentleman was crazed for +love of his young mistress, who, he made no doubt, was the object of his +search; and the conviction was strengthened by the perfect inattention +of Sir Oran to all his assurances that his dear young lady was not in +any of those places which he searched so scrupulously. Sir Oran at +length, having left no corner of the habitable part of the Castle +unexamined, returned to the dining-room, and throwing himself into a +chair began to shed tears in great abundance. + +Mr. Fax made his two disconsolate friends drink several glasses of +Madeira, by way of raising their spirits, and then asked Mr. Forester +what it was that had so affected him on their first entering the +library. + +_Mr. Forester._ It was the form of Anthelia, in the place where I first +saw her, in that chair by the table. The vision was momentary, but, +while it lasted, had all the distinctness of reality. + +_Mr. Fax._ This is no uncommon effect of the association of ideas when +external objects present themselves to us after an interval of absence, +in their remembered arrangement, with only one form wanting, and that +the dearest among them, to perfect the resemblance between the present +sensation and the recollected idea. A vivid imagination, more especially +when the nerves are weakened by anxiety and fatigue, will, under such +circumstances, complete the imperfect scene, by replacing for a moment +the one deficient form among those accustomed objects which had long +formed its accompaniments in the contemplation of memory. This single +mental principle will explain the greater number of _credible_ tales of +apparitions, and at the same time give a very satisfactory reason why a +particular spirit is usually found haunting a particular place. + +_Mr. Forester._ Thus Petrarch’s beautiful pictures of the Spirit of +Laura on the banks of the Sorga are assuredly something more than the +mere fancies of the closet, and must have originated in that system of +mental connection, which, under peculiar circumstances, gives ideas the +force of sensations. Anxiety and fatigue are certainly great promoters +of the state of mind most favourable to such impressions. + +[Illustration: _Sir Oran, throwing himself into a chair, began to shed +tears in great abundance._] + +_Mr. Fax._ It was under the influence of such excitements that Brutus +saw the spirit of Caesar; and in similar states of feeling the phantoms +of poetry are usually supposed to be visible: the ghost of Banquo, for +example, and that of Patroclus. But this only holds true of the poets +who paint from nature; for their artificial imitators, when they wish to +call a spirit from the vasty deep, are not always so attentive to the +mental circumstances of the persons to whom they present it. In the +early periods of society, when apparitions form a portion of the general +creed; when the life of man is wandering, precarious, and turbulent; +when the uncultured wildness of the heath and the forest harmonises with +the chimaeras of superstition; and when there is not, as in later times, +a rooted principle of reason and knowledge, to weaken such perceptions +in their origin, and destroy the seeming reality of their subsequent +recollection, impressions of this nature will be more frequent, and will +be as much invested with the character of external existence, as the +scenes to which they are attached by the connecting power of the mind. +They will always be found with their own appropriate character of time, +and place, and circumstance. The ghost of the warrior will be seen on +the eve of battle by him who keeps his lonely watch near the blaze of +the nightly fire, and the spirit of the huntress maid will appear to her +lover when he pauses on the sunny heath, or rests in the moonlit cave. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIV + THE CHURCHYARD + + +The next morning Mr. Forester determined on following the mountain road +on the other side of the dingle, of which Peter Gray had spoken: but +wishing first to make some inquiries of the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, they +walked to his vicarage, which was in a village at some distance. Just as +they reached it, the reverend gentleman emerged in haste, and seeing Mr. +Forester and his friends, said he was very sorry that he could not +attend to them just then, as he had a great press of business to dispose +of; namely, a christening, a marriage, and a funeral; but he would knock +them off as fast as he could, after which he should be perfectly at +their service, hoped they would wait in the vicarage till his return, +and observed he had good ale and a few bottles of London Particular. He +then left them to despatch his affairs in the church. + +They preferred waiting in the churchyard. ‘A christening, a marriage, +and a funeral!’ said Mr. Forester. ‘With what indifference he runs +through the whole drama of human life, raises the curtain on its +commencement, superintends the most important and eventful action of its +progress, and drops the curtain on its close!’ + +_Mr. Fax._ Custom has rendered them all alike indifferent to him. In +every human pursuit and profession the routine of ordinary business +renders the mind indifferent to all the forms and objects of which that +routine is composed. The sexton ‘sings at grave-making’; the undertaker +walks with a solemn face before the coffin, because a solemn face is +part of his trade; but his heart is as light as if there were no funeral +at his heels: he is quietly conning over the items of his bill, or +thinking of the party in which he is to pass his evening; and the +reverend gentleman who concludes the process, and consigns to its last +receptacle the shell of extinguished intelligence, has his thoughts on +the wing of the sports of the field or the jovial board of the Squire. + +[Illustration: _A great press of business to dispose of._] + +_Mr. Forester._ Your observation is just. It is this hardening power of +custom that gives steadiness to the hand of the surgeon, firmness to the +voice of the criminal judge, coolness to the soldier ‘in the imminent +deadly breach,’ self-possession to the sailor in the rage of the +equinoctial storm. It is under this influence that the lawyer deals out +writs and executions as carelessly as he deals out cards at his evening +whist; that the gaoler turns the key with the same stern indifference on +unfortunate innocence as on hardened villainy; that the venal senator +votes away by piecemeal the liberties of his country; and that the +statesman sketches over the bottle his series of deliberate schemes for +the extinction of human freedom, the enchaining of human reason, and the +waste of human life. + +_Mr. Fax._ Contemplate any of these men only in the sphere of their +routine, and you will think them utterly destitute of all human +sympathy. Make them change places with each other, and you will see +symptoms of natural feelings. Custom cannot kill the better feelings of +human nature: it merely lays them asleep. + +_Mr. Forester._ You must acknowledge, then, at least, that their sleep +is very sound. + +_Mr. Fax._ In most cases certainly as sound as that of Epimenides, or of +the seven sleepers of Ephesus. But these did wake at last, and, +therefore, according to Aristotle, they had always the capacity of +waking. + +_Mr. Forester._ You must allow me to wait for a similar proof before I +admit such a capacity in respect to the feelings of some of the +characters we have mentioned. Yet I am no sceptic in human virtue. + +_Mr. Fax._ You have no reason to be, with so much evidence before your +eyes of the excellence of the past generation, and I do not suppose the +present is much worse than its predecessors. Read the epitaphs around +you, and see what models and mirrors of all the social virtues have left +the examples of their shining light to guide the steps of their +posterity. + +_Mr. Forester._ I observe the usual profusion of dutiful sons, +affectionate husbands, faithful friends, kind neighbours, and honest +men. These are the luxuriant harvest of every churchyard. But is it not +strange that even the fertility of fiction should be so circumscribed in +the variety of monumental panegyric? Yet a few words comprehend the +summary of all the moral duties of ordinary life. Their degrees and +diversities are like the shades of colour, that shun for the most part +the power of language: at all events, the nice distinctions and +combinations that give individuality to historical character scarcely +come within the limits of sepulchral inscription, which merely serves to +testify the regret of the survivors for one whose society was dear, and +whose faults are forgotten. For there is a feeling in the human mind, +that, in looking back on former scenes of intercourse with those who are +passed for ever beyond the limits of injury and resentment, gradually +destroys all the bitterness and heightens all the pleasures of the +remembrance; as, when we revert in fancy to the days of our childhood, +we scarcely find a vestige of their tears, pains, and disappointments, +and perceive only their fields, their flowers, and their sunshine, and +the smiles of our little associates. + +_Mr. Fax._ The history of common life seems as circumscribed as its +moral attributes: for the most extensive information I can collect from +these gravestones is, that the parties married, lived in trouble, and +died of a conflict between a disease and a physician. I observe a last +request, which I suppose was very speedily complied with—that of a +tender husband to his loving wife not to weep for him long. If it be as +you say, that the faults of the dead are soon forgotten, yet the memory +of their virtues is not much longer lived; and I have often thought that +these words of Rabelais would furnish an appropriate inscription for +ninety-nine gravestones out of every hundred:—_Sa mémoire expira avecque +le son des cloches qui carillonèrent à son enterrement._ + + + + + CHAPTER XXXV + THE RUSTIC WEDDING + + +The bride and bridegroom, with half a dozen of their friends, now +entered the churchyard. The bride, a strong, healthy-looking country +girl, was clinging to the arm of her lover, not with the light and +scarcely perceptible touch with which Miss Simper complies with the +request of Mr. Giggle, ‘that she will do him the honour to take his +arm,’ but with a cordial and unsophisticated pressure that would have +made such an arm as Mr. Giggle’s black and blue. The bridegroom, with a +pair of chubby cheeks, which in colour precisely rivalled his new +scarlet waistcoat, and his mouth expanded into a broad grin that +exhibited the total range of his teeth, advanced in a sort of step that +was half a walk and half a dance, as if the preconceived notion of the +requisite solemnity of demeanour were struggling with the natural +impulses of the overflowing joy of his heart. + +Mr. Fax looked with great commiseration on this bridal pair, and +determined to ascertain if they had a clear notion of the evils that +awaited them in consequence of the rash step they were about to take. He +therefore accosted them with an observation that the Reverend Mr. +Portpipe was not at leisure, but would be in a few minutes. ‘In the +meantime,’ said he, ‘I stand here as the representative of general +reason, to ask if you have duly weighed the consequences of your present +proceeding.’ + +_The Bridegroom._ General Reason! I be’s no soger man, and bean’t +countable to no General whatzomecomedever. We bean’t under martial law, +be we? Voine times indeed if General Reason be to interpose between a +poor man and his sweetheart. + +_Mr. Fax._ That is precisely the case which calls most loudly for such +an interposition. + +_The Bridegroom._ If General Reason waits till I or Zukey calls loudly +vor’n, he’ll wait long enough. Woan’t he, Zukey? + +_The Bride._ Ees, zure, Robin. + +_Mr. Fax._ General reason, my friend, I assure you, has nothing to do +with martial law, nor with any other mode of arbitrary power, but with +authority that has truth for its foundation, benevolence for its end, +and the whole universe for its sphere of action. + +_The Bridegroom_ (_scratching his head_). There be a mort o’ voine +words, but I zuppose you means to zay as how this General Reason be a +Methody preacher; but I be’s true earthy-ducks church, and zo be Zukey: +bean’t you, Zukey? + +_The Bride._ Ees, zure, Robin. + +_The Bridegroom._ And we has nothing to do wi’ General Reason neither on +us. Has we, Zukey? + +_The Bride._ No, zure, Robin. + +_Mr. Fax._ Well, my friend, be that as it may, you are going to be +married? + +_The Bridegroom._ Why, I think zo, zur, wi’ General Reason’s leave. +Bean’t we, Zukey? + +_The Bride._ Ees, zure, Robin. + +_Mr. Fax._ And are you fully aware, my honest friend, what marriage is? + +_The Bridegroom._ Vor zartin I be: Zukey and I ha’ got it by heart out +o’ t’ Book o’ Common Prayer. Ha’n’t we, Zukey? (_This time Susan did not +think proper to answer._) It be ordained that zuch persons as hav’n’t +the gift of——(_Susan gave him such a sudden and violent pinch on the +arm, that his speech ended in a roar_). Od rabbit me! that wur a +twinger! I’ll have my revenge, howzomecomedever. (_And he imprinted a +very emphatical kiss on the lips of his blushing bride that greatly +scandalised Mr. Fax._) + +_Mr. Fax._ Do you know, that in all likelihood, in the course of six +years, you will have as many children? + +_The Bridegroom._ The more the merrier, zur. Bean’t it, Zukey? (_Susan +was mute again._) + +_Mr. Fax._ I hope it may prove so, my friend; but I fear you will find +the more the sadder. What are your occupations? + +_The Bridegroom._ Anan, zur? + +[Illustration: ‘_Do you know, that in all likelihood, in the course of +six years, you will have as many children?_’] + +_Mr. Fax._ What do you do to get your living? + +_The Bridegroom._ Works vor Varmer Brownstout: zows and reaps, threshes, +and goes to market wi’ corn and cattle, turns to plough-tail when hap +chances, cleans and feeds horses, hedges and ditches, fells timber, +gathers in t’ orchard, brews ale, and drinks it, and gets vourteen +shill’n’s a week for my trouble. And Zukey here ha’ laid up a mint o’ +money: she wur dairymaid at Varmer Cheesecurd’s, and ha’ gotten vour +pounds zeventeen shill’n’s and ninepence in t’ old chest wi’ three vlat +locks and a padlock. Ha’n’t you, Zukey? + +_The Bride._ Ees, zure, Robin. + +_Mr. Fax._ It does not appear to me, my worthy friend, that your +fourteen shillings a week, even with Mrs. Susan’s consolidated fund of +four pounds seventeen shillings and ninepence, will be altogether +adequate to the maintenance of such a family as you seem likely to have. + +_The Bridegroom._ Why, sir, in t’ virst pleace I doan’t know what be +Zukey’s intentions in that respect——Od rabbit it, Zukey! doan’t pinch +zo——and in t’ next pleace, wi’ all due submission to you and General +Reason the Methody preacher, I takes it to be our look-out, and none o’ +nobody’s else. + +_Mr. Fax._ But it is somebody’s else, for this reason; that if you +cannot maintain your own children, the parish must do it for you. + +_The Bridegroom._ Vor zartin—in a zort o’ way; and bad enough at best. +But I wants no more to do wi’ t’ parish than parish wi’ me. + +_Mr. Fax._ I dare say you do not, at present. But, my good friend, when +the cares of a family come upon you, your independence of spirit will +give way to necessity; and if, by any accident, you are thrown out of +work, as in the present times many honest fellows are, what will you do +then? + +_The Bridegroom._ Do the best I can, measter, az I always does, and +nobody can’t do no better. + +_Mr. Fax._ Do you suppose, then, you are doing the best you can now, in +marrying, with such a doubtful prospect before you? How will you bring +up your children? + +_The Bridegroom._ Why, in the vear o’ the Lord, to be zure. + +_Mr. Fax._ Of course: but how will you bring them up to get their +living? + +_The Bridegroom._ That’s as thereafter may happen. They woan’t starve, +I’se warrant ’em, if they teakes after their veyther. But I zees now who +General Reason be. He be one o’ your sinecure vundholder peaper-money +taxing men, as isn’t satisfied wi’ takin’ t’ bread out o’ t’ poor man’s +mouth, and zending his chilern to army and navy, and vactories, and +suchlike, but wants to take away his wife into t’ bargain. + +_Mr. Fax._ There, my honest friend, you have fallen into a radical +mistake, which I shall try to elucidate for your benefit. It is owing to +poor people having more children than they can maintain, that those +children are obliged to go to the army and navy, and consequently that +statesmen and conquerors find so many ready instruments for the +oppression and destruction of the human species: it follows, therefore, +that if people would not marry till they could be certain of maintaining +all their children comfortably at home—— + +_The Bridegroom._ Lord love you, that be all mighty voine rigmarole; but +the short and the long be this: I can’t live without Zukey, nor Zukey +without I, can you, Zukey? + +_The Bride._ No, zure, Robin. + +_The Bridegroom._ Now there be a plain downright honest-hearted old +English girl; none o’ your quality madams, as zays one thing and means +another; and zo you may tell General Reason he may teake away chair and +teable, salt-box and trencher, bed and bedding, pig and pig-stye, but +neither he nor all his peaper-men together shall take away his own Zukey +vrom Robin Ruddyfeace; if they shall I’m doomed. + +‘What profane wretch,’ said the Reverend Mr. Portpipe, emerging from the +church, ‘what profane wretch is swearing in the very gate of the +temple?’ and seeing by the bridegroom’s confusion that he was the +culprit, he reprimanded him severely, and declared he would not marry +him that day. The very thought of such a disappointment was too much for +poor Robin to bear, and, after one or two ineffectual efforts to speak, +he distorted his face into a most rueful expression, and struck up such +a roar of crying as completely electrified the Rev. Mr. Portpipe, whose +wrath, nevertheless, was not to be mollified by Robin’s grief and +contrition, but yielded at length to the intercessions of Mr. Forester. +Robin’s face cleared up in an instant, and the natural broad grin of his +ruddy countenance shone forth through his tears like the sun through a +shower. ‘You are such an honest and warm-hearted fellow,’ said Mr. +Forester, putting a bank-note into Robin’s hand, ‘that you must not +refuse me the pleasure of making this little addition to Mistress +Susan’s consolidated fund.’—‘Od rabbit me!’ said the bridegroom, +overcome with joy and surprise, ‘I doan’t know who thee beest, but thee +beesn’t General Reason, that’s vor zartin.’ + +The rustic party then followed the Reverend Mr. Portpipe into the +church. Robin, when he reached the porch, looked round over his shoulder +to Mr. Fax, and said with a very arch look, ‘My dutiful sarvice to +General Reason.’ And looking round a second time before he entered the +door, added: ‘and Zukey’s too.’ + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVI + THE VICARAGE + + +When the Rev. Mr. Portpipe had despatched his ‘press of business,’ he +set before his guests in the old oak parlour of the vicarage a cold +turkey and ham, a capacious jug of ‘incomparable ale,’ and a bottle of +his London Particular; all which, on trial, were approved to be +excellent, and a second bottle of the latter was very soon required, and +produced with great alacrity. The reverend gentleman expressed much +anxiety in relation to the mysterious circumstance of the disappearance +of Anthelia, on whom he pronounced a very warm eulogium, saying she was +the flower of the mountains, the type of ideal beauty, the daughter of +music, the rosebud of sweetness, and the handmaid of charity. He +professed himself unable to throw the least light on the transaction, +but supposed she had been spirited away for some nefarious purpose. He +said that the mountain road had been explored without success in all its +ramifications, not only by Mr. Hippy and the visitors and domestics of +Melincourt, but by all the peasants and mountaineers of the +vicinity—that it led through a most desolate and inhospitable tract of +country, and he would advise them, if they persisted in their intention +of following it themselves, to partake of his poor hospitality till +morning, and set forward with the first dawn of daylight. Mr. Fax +seconded this proposal, and Mr. Forester complied. + +They spent the evening in the old oak parlour, and conversed on various +subjects, during which a knotty point opposing itself to the solution of +an historical question, Mr. Forester expressed a wish to be allowed +access to the reverend gentleman’s library. The reverend gentleman +hummed awhile with great gravity and deliberation: then slowly rising +from his large arm-chair, he walked across the room to the farther +corner, where throwing open the door of a little closet, he said with +extreme complacency, ‘There is my library: Homer, Virgil, and Horace, +for old acquaintance sake, and the credit of my cloth: Tillotson, +Atterbury, and Jeremy Taylor, for materials of exhortation and +ingredients of sound doctrine: and for my own private amusement in an +occasional half-hour between my dinner and my nap, a translation of +Rabelais and _The Tale of a Tub_.’ + +_Mr. Fax._ A well-chosen collection. + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._—_Multum in parvo._ But there is something that +may amuse you: a little drawer of mineral specimens that have been +picked up in this vicinity, and a fossil or two. Among the latter is a +curious bone that was found in a hill just by, invested with stalactite. + +_Mr. Forester._ The bone of a human thumb, unquestionably. + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._ Very probably. + +_Mr. Forester._ Which, by its comparative proportion, must have belonged +to an individual about eleven feet six or seven inches in height: there +are no such men now. + +_Mr. Fax._ Except, perhaps, among the Patagonians, whose existence is, +however, disputed. + +_Mr. Forester._ It is disputed on no tenable ground, but that of the +narrow and bigoted vanity of civilised men, who, pent in the unhealthy +limits of towns and cities, where they dwindle from generation to +generation in a fearful rapidity of declension towards the abyss of the +infinitely little, in which they will finally vanish from the system of +nature, will not admit that there ever were, or are, or can be, better, +stronger, and healthier men than themselves. The Patagonians are a +vagrant nation, without house or home, and are, therefore, only +occasionally seen on the coast: but because some voyagers have not seen +them, I know not why we should impeach the evidence of those who have. +The testimony of a man of honour, like Mr. Byron, would alone have been +sufficient: but all his officers and men gave the same account. And +there are other testimonies: that, for instance, of M. de Guyot, who +brought from the coast of Patagonia a skeleton of one of these great +men, which measured between twelve and thirteen feet. This skeleton he +was bringing to Europe, but happening to be caught in a great storm, and +having on board a Spanish Bishop (the Archbishop of Lima), who was of +opinion that the storm was caused by the bones of this Pagan which they +had on board; and having persuaded the crew that this was the case, the +captain was obliged to throw the skeleton overboard. The Bishop died +soon after, and was thrown overboard in his turn. I could have wished +that he had been thrown overboard sooner, and then the bones of the +Patagonian would have arrived in Europe.[92] + +_The Rev. Mr. Portpipe._ Your wish is orthodox, inasmuch as the Bishop +was himself a Pagan, and moreover an Inquisitor. And your doctrine of +large men is also orthodox, for the sons of Anak and the family of +Goliath did once exist, though now their race is extinct. + +_Mr. Forester._ The multiplication of diseases, the diminution of +strength, and the contraction of the term of existence, keep pace with +the diminution of the stature of men. The mortality of a manufacturing +town, compared with that of a mountain village, is more than three to +one, which clearly shows the evil effects of the departure from natural +life, and of the coacervation of multitudes within the narrow precincts +of cities, where the breath of so many animals, and the exhalations from +the dead, the dying, and corrupted things of all kinds, make the air +little better than a slow poison, and so offensive as to be perceptible +to the sense of those who are not accustomed to it; for the wandering +Arabs will smell a town at the distance of several leagues. And in this +country the cottagers who are driven by the avarice of landlords and +great tenants to seek a subsistence in towns, are very soon destroyed by +the change.[93] And this hiving of human beings is not the only evil +effect of commerce, which tends also to keep up a constant circulation +of the elements of destruction, and to make the vices and diseases of +one country the vices and diseases of all.[94] Thus, with every +extension of our intercourse with distant lands, we bring home some new +seed of death; and how many we leave as vestiges of our visitation, let +the South Sea Islanders testify. Consider, too, the frightful +consequences of the consumption of spirituous liquors: a practice so +destructive, that if all the devils were again to be assembled in +Pandemonium to contrive the ruin of the human species, nothing so +mischievous could be devised by them;[95] but which it is considered +politic to encourage, according to our method of raising money on the +vices of the people.[96] When these and many other causes of destruction +are considered, it would be wonderful indeed if every new generation +were not, as all experience proves that it is, smaller, weaker, more +diseased, and more miserable than the preceding. + +_Mr. Fax._ Do you find, in the progress of science and the rapid +diffusion of intellectual light, no counterpoise to this mass of +physical calamity, even admitting it to exist in the extent you suppose? + +_Mr. Forester._ Without such a counterpoise the condition of human +nature would be desperate indeed. The intellectual, as I have often +observed to you, are nourished at the expense of the animal faculties. + +_Mr. Fax._ You cannot, then, conceive the existence of _mens sana in +corpore sano_? + +_Mr. Forester._ Scarcely in the present state of human degeneracy: at +best in a very limited sense. + +_Mr. Fax._ Nevertheless you do, nay, you must acknowledge that the +intellectual, which is the better part of human nature, is in a progress +of rapid improvement, continually enlarging its views and multiplying +its acquisitions. + +_Mr. Forester._ The collective stock of knowledge which is the common +property of scientific men necessarily increases, and will increase from +the circumstance of admitting the cooperation of numbers: but collective +knowledge is as distinct from individual mental power as it is +confessedly unconnected with wisdom and moral virtue, and independent of +political liberty. A man of modern times, with machines of complicated +powers, will lift a heavier mass than that which Hector hurled from his +unassisted arm against the Grecian gates; but take away his mechanism, +and what comparison is there between him and Hector? In the same way a +modern man of science _knows_ more than Pythagoras knew: but consider +them with relation only to _mental power_, and what comparison remains +between them? No more than between a modern poet and Homer—a comparison +which the most strenuous partisan of modern improvement will scarcely +venture to institute. + +_Mr. Fax._ I will venture to oppose Shakespeare to him nevertheless. + +_Mr. Forester._ That is, however, going back two centuries, to a state +of society very peculiar, and very fertile in genius. Shakespeare is the +great phenomenon of the modern world, but his men and women are beings +like ourselves; whereas those of Homer are of a nobler and mightier +race; and his poetry is worthy of his characters: it is the language of +the gods. + +Mr. Forester rose, and approached the little closet, with the avowed +intention of taking down Homer. ‘Take care how you touch him,’ said the +Reverend Mr. Portpipe: ‘he is in a very dusty condition, for he has not +been disturbed these thirty years.’ + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVI + THE MOUNTAINS + + +They followed the mountain road till they arrived at the spot where it +divided into several branches, one of which they selected on some +principle of preference, which we are not sagacious enough to penetrate. +They now proceeded by a gradual ascent of several miles along a rugged +passage of the hills, where the now flowerless heath was the only +vestige of vegetation; and the sound of the little streams that +everywhere gleamed beside their way, the only manifestation of the life +and motion of nature. + +‘It is a subject worthy of consideration,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘how far scenes +like these are connected with the genius of liberty: how far the dweller +of the mountains, who is certainly surrounded by more sublime +excitements, has more loftiness of thought, and more freedom of spirit, +than the cultivator of the plains.’ + +_Mr. Forester._ A modern poet has observed, that the voices of the sea +and the mountains are the two voices of liberty: the words mountain +liberty have, indeed, become so intimately associated, that I never yet +found any one who even thought of questioning their necessary and +natural connection. + +_Mr. Fax._ And yet I question it much; and in the present state of human +society I hold the universal inculcation of such a sentiment, in poetry +and romance, to be not only a most gross delusion, but an error replete +with the most pernicious practical consequences. For I have often seen a +young man of high and aspiring genius, full of noble enthusiasm for the +diffusion of truth and the general happiness of mankind, withdrawn from +all intercourse with polished and intellectual society, by the +distempered idea that he would nowhere find fit aliment for his high +cogitations, but among heaths, and rocks, and torrents. + +_Mr. Forester._ In a state of society so corrupted as that in which we +live, the best instructors and companions are ancient books; and these +are best studied in those congenial solitudes, where the energies of +nature are most pure and uncontrolled, and the aspect of external things +recalls in some measure the departed glory of the world. + +_Mr. Fax._ Holding, as I do, that no branch of knowledge is valuable, +but such as in its ultimate results has a plain and practical tendency +to the general diffusion of moral and political truth, you must allow me +to doubt the efficacy of solitary intercourse with stocks and stones, +however rugged and fantastic in their shapes, towards the production of +this effect. + +_Mr. Forester._ It is matter of historical testimony that occasional +retirement into the recesses of nature has produced the most salutary +effects of the very kind you require, in the instance of some of the +most illustrious minds that have adorned the name of man. + +_Mr. Fax._ That the health and purity of the country, its verdure and +its sunshine, have the most beneficial influence on the mental and +corporeal faculties, I am very far from being inclined to deny: but this +is a different consideration from that of the connection between the +scenery of the mountains and the genius of liberty. Look into the +records of the world. What have the mountains done for freedom and +mankind? When have the mountains, to speak in the cant of the new school +of poetry, ‘sent forth a voice of power’ to awe the oppressors of the +world? Mountaineers are for the most part a stupid and ignorant race: +and where there are stupidity and ignorance, there will be superstition; +and where there is superstition, there will be slavery. + +_Mr. Forester._ To a certain extent I cannot but agree with you. The +names of Hampden and Milton are associated with the level plains and +flat pastures of Buckinghamshire; but I cannot now remember what names +of true greatness and unshaken devotion to general liberty are +associated with these heathy rocks and cloud-capped mountains of +Cumberland. We have seen a little horde of poets, who brought hither +from the vales of the south the harps which they had consecrated to +Truth and Liberty, to acquire new energy in the mountain winds: and now +those harps are attuned to the praise of luxurious power, to the strains +of courtly sycophancy, and to the hymns of exploded superstition. But +let not the innocent mountains bear the burden of their transgressions. + +_Mr. Fax._ All I mean to say is, that there is nothing in the nature of +mountain scenery either to make men free or to keep them so. The only +source of freedom is intellectual light. The ignorant are always slaves, +though they dwell among the Andes. The wise are always free, though they +cultivate a savannah. Who is so stupid and so servile as a Swiss, whom +you find, like a piece of living furniture, the human latch of every +great man’s door? + +_Mr. Forester._ Let us look back to former days, to the mountains of the +North: + + Wild the Runic faith, + And wild the realms where Scandinavian chiefs + And Scalds arose, and hence the Scald’s strong verse + Partook the savage wildness. And methinks, + Amid such scenes as these the poet’s soul + Might best attain full growth. + +_Mr. Fax._ As to the ‘Scald’s strong verse,’ I must say I have never +seen any specimens of it that I did not think mere trash. It is little +more than a rhapsody of rejoicing in carnage, a ringing of changes on +the biting sword and the flowing of blood and the feast of the raven and +the vulture, and fulsome flattery of the chieftain, of whom the said +Scald was the abject slave, vassal, parasite, and laureate, interspersed +with continual hints that he ought to be well paid for his lying +panegyrics. + +_Mr. Forester._ There is some justice in your observations: +nevertheless, I must still contend that those who seek the mountains in +a proper frame of feeling will find in them images of energy and +liberty, harmonising most aptly with the loftiness of an unprejudiced +mind, and nerving the arm of resistance to every variety of oppression +and imposture that winds the chains of power round the free-born spirit +of man. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVIII + THE FRACAS + + +After a long ramble among heath and rock, and over moss and moor, they +began to fear the probability of being benighted among those desolate +wilds, when fortunately they found that their track crossed one of the +principal roads, which they followed for a short time, and entered a +small town, where they stopped for the night at an inn. They were shown +upstairs into an apartment separated from another only by a movable +partition, which allowed the two rooms to be occasionally laid into one. +They were just sitting down to dinner when they heard the voices of some +newly-arrived company in the adjoining apartment, and distinguished the +tones of a female voice indicative of alarm and anxiety, and the +masculine accents of one who seemed to be alternately comforting the +afflicted fair one, and swearing at the obsequious waiter, with +reiterated orders, as it appeared, for another chaise immediately. Mr. +Fax was not long in divining that the new-comers were two runaway lovers +in momentary apprehension of being overtaken; and this conjecture was +confirmed, when, after a furious rattle of wheels in the yard, the door +of the next apartment was burst open, and a violent scream from the lady +was followed by a gruff shout of—‘So ho, miss, here you are. Gretna, eh? +Your journey’s marred for this time; and if you get off again, say you +have my consent—that’s all.’ Low soft tones of supplication ensued, but +in undistinguishable words, and continued to be repeated in the +intervals of the following harangue: ‘Love indeed! don’t tell me. Aren’t +you my daughter? Answer me that. And haven’t I a right over you till you +are twenty-one? You may marry then; but not a rap of the ready: my +money’s my own all my life. Haven’t I chosen you a proper husband—a nice +rich young fellow not above forty-five?—Sixty, you minx! no such thing. +Rolling in riches: member for Threevotes: two places, three pensions, +and a sinecure: famous borough interest to make all your children +generals and archbishops. And here a miserable vagabond with only five +hundred a year in landed property.—Pish! love indeed!—own age—congenial +minds—pshaw! all a farce. Money—money—money—that’s the matter: money is +the first thing—money is the second thing—money is the third thing—money +is the only thing—money is everything and all things.’—‘Vagabond, sir,’ +said a third voice: ‘I am a gentleman, and have money sufficient to +maintain your daughter in comfort.’—‘Comfort!’ said the gruff voice +again; ‘comfort with five hundred a year, ha! ha! ha! eh, Sir +Bonus?’—‘Hooh! hooh! hooh! very droll indeed,’ said a fourth voice, in a +sound that seemed a mixture of a cough and a laugh.—‘Very well, sir,’ +said the third voice; ‘I shall not part with my treasure quietly, I +assure you.’—‘Rebellion! flat rebellion against parental authority,’ +exclaimed the second. ‘But I’m too much for you, youngster. Where are +all my varlets and rascals?’ + +A violent trampling of feet, and various sounds of tumult ensued, as if +the old gentleman and his party were tearing the lovers asunder by main +force; and at length an agonising scream from the young lady seemed to +announce that their purpose was accomplished. Mr. Forester started up +with a view of doing all in his power to assist the injured damsel; and +Sir Oran Haut-ton, who, as the reader has seen, had very strong feelings +of natural justice, and a most chivalrous sympathy with females in +distress, rushed with a desperate impulse against the partition, and +hurled a great portion of it, with a violent crash, into the adjoining +apartment. This unexpected event had the effect of fixing the whole +group within for a few moments in motionless surprise in their +respective places. + +The fat and portly father, who was no other than our old acquaintance +Sir Gregory Greenmould, and the old valetudinarian he had chosen for his +daughter, Sir Bonus Mac Scrip, were directing the efforts of their +myrmidons to separate the youthful pair. The young lady was clinging to +her lover with the tenacity of the tendrils of a vine: the young +gentleman’s right arm was at liberty, and he was keeping the assailants +at bay with the poker, which he had seized on the first irruption of the +foe, and which had left vestiges of its impression, to speak in ancient +phraseology, in various green wounds and bloody coxcombs. + +As Sir Oran was not habituated to allow any very long process of +syllogistic reasoning to interfere between his conception and execution +of the dictates of natural justice, he commenced operations by throwing +the assailants one by one downstairs, who, as fast as they could rise +from the ground, ran or limped away into sundry holes and coverts. Sir +Bonus Mac Scrip retreated through the breach, and concealed himself +under the dining-table in Mr. Forester’s apartment. Mr. Forester +succeeded in preventing Sir Gregory from being thrown after his +myrmidons: but Sir Oran kept the fat baronet a close prisoner in the +corner of the room, while the lovers slipped away into the inn-yard, +where the chaise they had ordered was in readiness; and the cracking of +whips, the trampling of horses, and the rattling of wheels announced the +final discomfiture of the schemes of Sir Gregory Greenmould and the +hopes of Sir Bonus Mac Scrip. + +[Illustration: _Sir Bonus Mac Scrip retreated through the breach, and +concealed himself under the dining-table._] + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIX + MAINCHANCE VILLA + + +The next day they resumed their perquisitions, still without any clue to +guide them in their search. They had hitherto had the advantage of those +halcyon days which often make the middle of winter a season of serenity +and sunshine; but, on this day, towards the evening, the sky grew black +with clouds, the snow fell rapidly in massy flakes, and the mountains +and valleys were covered with one uniform veil of whiteness. All +vestiges of roads and paths were obliterated. They were winding round +the side of a mountain, and their situation began to wear a very +unpromising aspect, when, on a sudden turn of the road, the trees and +chimneys of a villa burst upon their view in the valley below. To this +they bent their way, and on ringing at the gate-bell, and making the +requisite inquiries, they found it to be Mainchance Villa, the new +residence of Peter Paypaul Paperstamp, Esquire, whom we introduced to +our readers in the twenty-eighth chapter. They sent in their names, and +received a polite invitation to walk in. They were shown into a parlour, +where they found their old acquaintance Mr. Derrydown tête-à-tête at the +piano with Miss Celandina, with whom he was singing a duet. Miss +Celandina said, ‘her papa was just then engaged, but would soon have the +pleasure of waiting on them: in the meantime Mr. Derrydown would do the +honours of the house.’ Miss Celandina left the room; and they learned in +conversation with Mr. Derrydown, that the latter, finding his case +hopeless with Anthelia, had discovered some good reasons in an old +ballad for placing his affections where they would be more welcome; he +had therefore thrown himself at the feet of Miss Celandina Paperstamp; +the young lady’s father, having inquired into Mr. Derrydown’s fortune, +had concluded, from the answer he received, that it would be a very +_good match_ for his daughter; and the day was already definitely +arranged on which Miss Celandina Paperstamp was to be metamorphosed into +Mrs. Derrydown. + +Mr. Derrydown informed them that they would not see Mr. Paperstamp till +dinner, as he was closeted in close conference with Mr. Feathernest, Mr. +Vamp, Mr. Killthedead, and Mr. Anyside Antijack, a very important +personage just arrived from abroad on the occasion of a letter from Mr. +Mystic of Cimmerian Lodge, denouncing an approaching period of public +light, which had filled Messieurs Paperstamp, Feathernest, Vamp, +Killthedead, and Antijack with the deepest dismay; and they were now +holding a consultation on the best means to be adopted for totally and +finally extinguishing the light of the human understanding. ‘I am +excluded from the council,’ proceeded Mr. Derrydown, ‘and it is their +intention to keep me altogether in the dark on the subject; but I shall +wait very patiently for the operation of the second bottle, when the wit +will be out of the brain, and the cat will be out of the bag.’ + +‘Is that picture a family piece?’ said Mr. Fax. + +‘I hardly know,’ said Mr. Derrydown, ‘whether there is any relationship +between Mr. Paperstamp and the persons there represented; but there is +at least a very intimate connection. The old woman in the scarlet cloak +is the illustrious Mother Goose;—the two children playing at see-saw are +Margery Daw and Tommy with his Banbury cake;—the little boy and girl, +the one with a broken pitcher, and the other with a broken head, are +little Jack and Jill: the house, at the door of which the whole party is +grouped, is the famous house that Jack built; you see the clock through +the window and the mouse running up it, as in that sublime strain of +immortal genius, entitled Dickery Dock: and the boy in the corner is +little Jack Horner eating his Christmas pie. The latter is one of the +most splendid examples on record of the admirable practical doctrine of +“taking care of number one,” and he is therefore in double favour with +Mr. Paperstamp, for his excellence as a pattern of moral and political +wisdom, and for the beauty of the poetry in which his great achievement +of extracting a plum from the Christmas pie is celebrated. Mr. +Paperstamp, Mr. Feathernest, Mr. Vamp, Mr. Killthedead, and Mr. Anyside +Antijack are unanimously agreed that the Christmas pie in question is a +type and symbol of the public purse; and as that is a pie in which every +one of them has a finger, they look with great envy and admiration on +little Jack Horner, who extracted a _plum_ from it, and who, I believe, +haunts their dreams with his pie and his plum, saying, “Go, and do thou +likewise!”’ + +The secret council broke up, and Mr. Paperstamp entering with his four +compeers, bade the new-comers welcome to Mainchance Villa, and +introduced to them Mr. Anyside Antijack. Mr. Paperstamp did not much +like Mr. Forester’s modes of thinking; indeed he disliked them the more, +from their having once been his own; but a man of large landed property +was well worth a little civility, as there was no knowing what turn +affairs might take, what party might come into place, and who might have +the cutting up of the Christmas pie. + +They now adjourned to dinner, during which, as usual, little was said, +and much was done. When the wine began to circulate, Mr. Feathernest +held forth for some time in praise of himself; and by the assistance of +a little smattering in Mr. Mystic’s synthetical logic, proved himself to +be a model of taste, genius, consistency, and public virtue. This was +too good an example to be thrown away; and Mr. Paperstamp followed it up +with a very lofty encomium on his own virtues and talents, declaring he +did not believe so great a genius, or so amiable a man as himself, Peter +Paypaul Paperstamp, Esquire, of Mainchance Villa, had appeared in the +world since the days of Jack the Giantkiller, whose _coat of darkness_ +he hoped would become the costume of all the rising generation, whenever +adequate provision should be made for the whole people to be taught and +trained. + +Mr. Vamp, Mr. Killthedead, and Mr. Anyside Antijack were all very loud +in their encomiums of the wine, which Mr. Paperstamp observed had been +tasted for him by his friend Mr. Feathernest, who was a great +connoisseur in ‘Sherris sack.’ + +Mr. Derrydown was very intent on keeping the bottle in motion, in the +hope of bringing the members of the critico-poetical council into that +state of blind self-love, when the great vacuum of the head, in which +brain was, like Mr. Harris’s indefinite article, _supplied by negation_, +would be inflated with oenogen gas, or, in other words, with the fumes +of wine, the effect of which, according to psychological chemistry, is, +after filling up every chink and crevice of the cranial void, to evolve +through the labial valve, bringing with it all the secrets both of +memory and anticipation which had been carefully laid up in the said +chinks and crevices. This state at length arrived; and Mr. Derrydown, to +quicken its operation, contrived to pick a quarrel with Mr. Vamp, who +being naturally very testy and waspish, poured out upon him a torrent of +invectives, to the infinite amusement of Mr. Derrydown, who, however, +affecting to be angry, said to him in a tragical tone, + + Thus in dregs of folly sunk, + Art thou, miscreant, mad or drunk? + Cups intemperate always teach + Virulent abusive speech.[97] + +This produced a general cry of ‘Chair! chair!’ Mr. Paperstamp called Mr. +Derrydown to order. The latter apologised with as much gravity as he +could assume, and said, to make amends for his warmth, he would give +them a toast, and pronounced accordingly: ‘Your scheme for extinguishing +the light of the human understanding: may it meet the success it +merits.’ + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ Nothing can be in a more hopeful train. We must +set the alarmists at work, as in the Antijacobin war: when, to be sure, +we had one or two honest men among our opposers[98]—(_Mr. Feathernest +and Mr. Paperstamp smiled and bowed_)—though they were for the most part +ill-read in history, and ignorant of human nature.[99] + +_Mr. Feathernest and Mr. Paperstamp._ How, sir? + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ For the most part, observe me. Of course I do +not include my quondam antagonists, and now very dear friends, Mr. +Paperstamp and Mr. Feathernest, who have altered their minds, as the +sublime Burke altered his mind,[100] from the most disinterested +motives. + +_Mr. Forester._ Yet there are some persons, and those not the lowest in +the scale of moral philosophy, who have called the sublime Burke a +pensioned apostate. + +_Mr. Vamp._ Moral philosophy! Every man who talks of moral philosophy is +a thief and a rascal, and will never make any scruple of seducing his +neighbour’s wife, or stealing his neighbour’s property.[101] + +_Mr. Forester._ You can prove that assertion of course. + +_Mr. Vamp._ Prove it! The editor of the Legitimate Review required to +prove an assertion! + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ The church is in danger! + +_Mr. Forester._ I confess I do not see how the church is endangered by a +simple request to prove the asserted necessary connection between the +profession of moral philosophy and the practice of robbery. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ For your satisfaction, sir, and from my +disposition to oblige you, as you are a gentleman of family and fortune, +I will prove it. Every moral philosopher discards the creed and +commandments:[102] the sixth commandment says, Thou shalt not steal; +therefore, every moral philosopher is a thief. + +_Mr. Feathernest, Mr. Killthedead, and Mr. Paperstamp._ Nothing can be +more logical. The church is in danger! The church is in danger! + +_Mr. Vamp._ Keep up that. It is an infallible tocsin for rallying all +the old women about us when everything else fails. + +_Mr. Vamp, Mr. Feathernest, Mr. Paperstamp, Mr. Killthedead, and Mr. +Anyside Antijack._ The church is in danger! the church is in danger! + +_Mr. Forester._ I am very well aware that the time has been when the +voice of reason could be drowned by clamour, and by rallying round the +banners of corruption and delusion a mass of blind and bigoted +prejudices, that had no real connection with the political question +which it was the object to cry down: but I see with pleasure that those +days are gone. The people read and think: their eyes are opened; they +know that all their grievances arise from the pressure of taxation far +beyond their means, from the fictitious circulation of paper-money, and +from the corrupt and venal state of popular representation. These facts +lie in a very small compass; and till you can reason them out of this +knowledge, you may vociferate ‘The church is in danger’ for ever, +without a single unpaid voice to join in the outcry. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ My friend Mr. Mystic holds that it is a very bad +thing for the people to read: so it certainly is. Oh for the happy +ignorance of former ages! when the people were dolts, and knew +themselves to be so.[103] An ignorant man, judging from instinct, judges +much better than a man who reads, and is consequently misinformed.[104] + +_Mr. Vamp._ Unless he reads the Legitimate Review. + +_Mr. Paperstamp._ Darkness! darkness! Jack the Giantkiller’s coat of +darkness! That is your only wear. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ There was a time when we could lead the people +any way, and make them join with all their lungs in the yell of war: +then they were people of sound judgment, and of honest and honourable +feelings:[105] but when they pretend to feel the pressure of personal +suffering, and to read and think about its causes and remedies—such +impudence is intolerable. + +_Mr. Fax._ Are they not the same people still? If they were capable of +judging then, are they not capable of judging now? + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ By no means: they are only capable of judging +when they see with our eyes; then they see straight forward; when they +pretend to use their own, they squint.[106] They saw with our eyes in +the beginning of the Antijacobin war. They would have determined on that +war, if it had been decided by universal suffrage.[107] + +_Mr. Fax._ Why was not the experiment tried? + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ It was not convenient. But they were in a most +amiable ferment of intolerant loyalty.[108] + +_Mr. Forester._ Of which the proof is to be found in the immortal +Gagging Bills, by which that intolerant loyalty was coerced. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ The Gagging Bills? Hem! ha! What shall we say to +that? (_To Mr. Vamp._) + +_Mr. Vamp._ Say? The church is in danger! + +_Mr. Feathernest, Mr. Paperstamp, Mr. Killthedead, and Mr. Anyside +Antijack._ The church is in danger! the church is in danger! + +_Mr. Forester._ Why was a war undertaken to prevent revolution, if all +the people of this country were so well fortified in loyalty? Did they +go to war for the purpose of forcibly preventing themselves from +following a bad example against their own will? For this is what your +argument seems to imply? + +_Mr. Fax._ That the people were in a certain degree of ferment is true: +but it required a great deal of management and delusion to turn that +ferment into the channel of foreign war. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ Well, sir, and there was no other way to avoid +domestic reform, which every man who desires is a ruffian, a scoundrel, +and an incendiary,[109] as much so as those two rascals Rousseau and +Voltaire, who were the trumpeters of Hebert and Marat.[110] Reform, sir, +is not to be thought of; we have been at war twenty-five years to +prevent it; and to have it, after all, would be very hard. We have got +the national debt instead of it: in my opinion a very pretty substitute. + +_Mr. Derrydown_ sings— + + And I’ll hang on thy neck, my love, my love, + And I’ll hang on thy neck for aye! + And closer and closer I’ll press thee, my love, + Until my _dying day_. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ I am happy to reflect that the silly question of +reform will have very few supporters in the Honourable House: but few as +they are, the number would be lessened if all who come into Parliament +by means which that question attempts to stigmatise would abstain from +voting upon it. Undoubtedly such practices are scandalous, as being +legally, and therefore morally wrong: but it is false that any evil to +the legislature arises from them.[111] + +_Mr. Forester._ Perhaps not, sir; but very great evil arises through +them from the legislature to the people. Your admission, that they are +legally, and _therefore_ morally wrong, implies a very curious method of +deriving morality from law; but I suspect there is much immorality that +is perfectly legal, and much legality that is supremely immoral. But +these practices, you admit, are both legally and morally wrong; yet you +call it a silly question to propose their cessation; and you assert that +all who wish to abolish them, all who wish to abolish illegal and +immoral practices, are ruffians, scoundrels, and incendiaries. + +_Mr. Killthedead._ Yes, and madmen moreover, and villains.[112] We are +all upon gunpowder! The insane and the desperate are scattering +firebrands![113] We shall all be blown up in a body: sinecures, rotten +boroughs, secret-service-men, and the whole _honourable band of +gentlemen pensioners_, will all be blown up in a body! _A stand! a +stand! it is time to make a stand against popular encroachment!_ + +_Mr. Vamp, Mr. Feathernest, and Mr. Paperstamp._ The church is in +danger! + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ Here is the great blunderbuss that is to blow +the whole nation to atoms! the Spencean blunderbuss! (_Saying these +words he produced a popgun from his pocket_,[114] _and shot off a paper +pellet in the ear of Mr. Paperstamp_, + + _Who in a kind of study sate + Denominated brown_; + +_which made the latter spring up in sudden fright, to the irremediable +perdition of a decanter of ‘Sherris sack,’ over which Mr. Feathernest +lamented bitterly._) + +_Mr. Forester._ I do not see what connection the Spencean theory, the +impracticable chimaera of an obscure herd of fanatics, has with the +great national question of parliamentary reform. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ Sir, you may laugh at this popgun, but you will +find it the mallet of Thor.[115] The Spenceans are far more respectable +than the parliamentary reformers, and have a more distinct and +intelligible system!!![116] + +_Mr. Vamp._ Bravo! bravo! bravo! There is not another man in our corps +with brass enough to make such an assertion, but Mr. Anyside Antijack. +(_Reiterated shouts of Bravo! from Mr. Vamp, Mr. Feathernest, Mr. +Paperstamp, and Mr. Killthedead._) + +_Mr. Killthedead._ Make out that, and our job is done. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ Make it out! Nonsense! I shall take it for +granted: I shall set up the Spencean plan as a more sensible plan than +that of the parliamentary reformers: then knock down the former, and +argue against the latter, _a fortiori_. (_The shouts of Bravo! here +became perfectly deafening, the critico-poetical corps being by this +time much more than half-seas-over._) + +_Mr. Killthedead._—The members for rotten boroughs are the most +independent members in the Honourable House, and the representatives of +most constituents least so.[117] + +_Mr. Fax._ How will you prove that? + +_Mr. Killthedead._ By calling the former gentlemen, and the latter mob +representatives.[118] + +_Mr. Vamp._ Nothing can be more logical. + +_Mr. Fax._ Do you call that logic? + +_Mr. Vamp._ Excellent logic. At least it will pass for such with our +readers. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ We, and those who think with us, are the only +wise and good men.[119] + +_Mr. Forester._ May I take the liberty to inquire what you mean by a +wise and a good man? + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ A wise man is he who looks after the one thing +needful; and a good man is he who has it. The acme of wisdom and +goodness in conjunction consists in appropriating as much as possible of +the public money; and saying to those from whose pockets it is taken, ‘I +am perfectly satisfied with things as they are. Let _well_ alone!’ + +_Mr. Paperstamp._ We shall make out a very good case; but you must not +forget to call the present public distress an awful dispensation:[120] a +little pious cant goes a great way towards turning the thoughts of men +from the dangerous and jacobinical propensity of looking into moral and +political causes for moral and political effects. + +_Mr. Fax._ But the moral and political causes are now too obvious, and +too universally known, to be obscured by any such means. All the arts +and eloquence of corruption may be overthrown by the enumeration of +these simple words: boroughs, taxes, and paper-money. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ Paper-money! What, is the ghost of bullion +abroad?[121] + +_Mr. Forester._ Yes! and till you can make the buried substance burst +the paper cerements of its sepulchre, its ghost will continue to walk +like the ghost of Caesar, saying to the desolated nation: ‘I am thy evil +spirit!’ + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ I must say, I am very sorry to find a gentleman +like you taking the part of the swinish multitude, who are only fit for +beasts of burden, to raise subsistence for their betters, pay taxes for +placemen, and recruit the army and navy for the benefit of legitimacy, +divine right, the Jesuits, the Pope, the Inquisition, and the Virgin +Mary’s petticoat. + +_Mr. Paperstamp._ Hear! hear! hear! Hear the voice which the stream of +Tendency is uttering for elevation of our thought! + +_Mr. Forester._ It was once said by a poet, whose fallen state none can +more bitterly lament than I do: + + We shall exult if they who rule the land + Be men who hold its many blessings dear, + Wise, upright, valiant; not a venal band, + Who are to judge of danger which they fear, + And honour which they do not understand. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ Poets, sir, are not amenable to censure, however +frequently their political opinions may exhibit marks of +inconsistency.[122] The Muse, as a French author says, is a mere +_étourdie_, a _folâtre_ who may play at her option on heath or on turf, +and transfer her song at pleasure from Hampden to Ferdinand, and from +Washington to Louis. + +_Mr. Forester._ If a poet be contented to consider himself in the light +of a merry-andrew, be it so. But if he assume the garb of moral +austerity, and pour forth against corruption and oppression the language +of moral indignation, there would at least be some decency, if, when he +changes sides, he would let the world see that conversion and promotion +have not gone hand in hand. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ What decency might be in that, I know not: but of +this I am very certain, that there would be no wisdom in it. + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ No! no! there would be no wisdom in it. + +_Mr. Feathernest._ Sir, I am a wise and a good man: mark that, sir; ay, +and an honourable man. + +_Mr. Vamp._ ‘So are we all, all honourable men!’ + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ And we will stick by one another with heart and +hand—— + +_Mr. Killthedead._ To make a stand against popular encroachment—— + +_Mr. Feathernest._ To bring back the glorious ignorance of the feudal +ages—— + +_Mr. Paperstamp._ To rebuild the mystic temples of venerable +superstition—— + +_Mr. Vamp._ To extinguish, totally and finally, the light of the human +understanding—— + +_Mr. Anyside Antijack._ And to get all we can for our trouble! + +_Mr. Feathernest._ So we will all say. + +_Mr. Paperstamp._ And so we will all sing. + + + QUINTETTO + + MR. FEATHERNEST, MR. VAMP, MR. KILLTHEDEAD, MR. PAPERSTAMP, AND MR. + ANYSIDE ANTIJACK + + To the tune of ‘_Turning, turning, turning, as the wheel goes round_.’ + + RECITATIVE—MR. PAPERSTAMP + + Jack Horner’s CHRISTMAS PIE my learned nurse + Interpreted to mean the _public purse_. + From thence a _plum_ he drew. O happy Horner! + Who would not be ensconced in thy snug corner? + + + THE FIVE + + While round the public board all eagerly we linger, + For what we can get we will try, try, try: + And we’ll all have a finger, a finger, a finger, + We’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + MR. FEATHERNEST + + By my own poetic laws, I’m a dealer in applause + For those who don’t deserve it, but will buy, buy, buy: + So round the court I linger, and thus I get a finger, + A finger, finger, finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + THE FIVE + + And we’ll all have a finger, a finger, a finger, + We’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + MR. VAMP + + My share of pie to win, I will dash through thick and thin, + And philosophy and liberty shall fly, fly, fly: + And truth and taste shall know, that their everlasting foe + Has a finger, finger, finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + THE FIVE + + And we’ll all have a finger, a finger, a finger, + We’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + MR. KILLTHEDEAD + + I’ll make my verses rattle with the din of war and battle, + For war doth increase sa-la-ry, ry, ry: + And I’ll shake the public ears with the triumph of Algiers, + And thus I’ll get a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + THE FIVE + + And we’ll all have a finger, a finger, a finger, + We’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + MR. PAPERSTAMP + + And while you thrive by ranting, I’ll try my luck at canting, + And scribble verse and prose all so dry, dry, dry: + And Mystic’s patent smoke public intellect shall choke, + And we’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + THE FIVE + + We’ll all have a finger, a finger, a finger, + We’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + +MR. ANYSIDE ANTIJACK + + My tailor is so clever, that my coat will turn for ever + And take any colour you can dye, dye, dye: + For my earthly wishes are among the loaves and fishes, + And to have my little finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + THE FIVE + + And we’ll all have a finger, a finger, a finger, + We’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE. + + + + + CHAPTER XL + THE HOPES OF THE WORLD + + +The mountain-roads being now buried in snow, they were compelled, on +leaving Mainchance Villa, to follow the most broad and beaten track, and +they entered on a turnpike road which led in the direction of the sea. + +‘I no longer wonder,’ said Mr. Fax, ‘that men in general are so much +disposed as I have found them to look with supreme contempt on the +literary character, seeing the abject servility and venality by which it +is so commonly debased.’[123] + +_Mr. Forester._ What then becomes of the hopes of the world, which you +have admitted to consist entirely in the progress of the mind, allowing, +as you must allow, the incontrovertible fact of the physical +deterioration of the human race? + +_Mr. Fax._ When I speak of the mind, I do not allude either to poetry or +to periodical criticism, nor, in any great degree, to physical science; +but I rest my hopes on the very same basis with Mr. Mystic’s fear—the +general diffusion of moral and political truth. + +_Mr. Forester._ For poetry, its best days are gone. Homer, Shakspeare, +and Milton will return no more. + +_Mr. Fax._ Lucretius we yet may hope for. + +_Mr. Forester._ Not till superstition and prejudice have been shorn of a +much larger portion of their power. If Lucretius should arise among us +in the present day, exile or imprisonment would be his infallible +portion. We have yet many steps to make before we shall arrive at the +liberality and toleration of Tiberius![124] And as to physical science, +though it does in some measure weaken the dominion of mental error, yet +I fear, where it proves itself in one instance the friend of human +liberty, it will be found in ninety-nine the slave of corruption and +luxury. + +_Mr. Fax._ In many cases science is both morally and politically +neutral, and its speculations have no connection whatever with the +business of life. + +_Mr. Forester._ It is true; and such speculations are often called +sublime: though the sublimity of uselessness passes my comprehension. +But the neutrality is only apparent: for it has in these cases the real +practical effect, and a most pernicious one it is, of withdrawing some +of the highest and most valuable minds from the only path of real +utility, which I agree with you to be that of moral and political +knowledge, to pursuits of no more real importance than that of keeping a +dozen eggs at a time dancing one after another in the air. + +_Mr. Fax._ If it be admitted, on the one hand, that the progress of +luxury has kept pace with that of physical science, it must be +acknowledged, on the other, that superstition has decayed in at least an +equal proportion; and I think it cannot be denied that the world is a +gainer by the exchange. + +_Mr. Forester._ The decay of superstition is immeasurably beneficial; +but the growth of luxury is not, therefore, the less pernicious. It is +lamentable to reflect that _there is most indigence in the richest +countries_;[125] and that the increase of superfluous enjoyment in the +few is counterbalanced by the proportionate diminution of comfort in the +many. Splendid equipages and sumptuous dwellings are far from being +symbols of general prosperity. The palace of luxurious indolence is much +rather the symbol of a thousand hovels, by the labours and privations of +whose wretched inhabitants that baleful splendour is maintained. +Civilisation, vice, and folly grow old together. Corruption begins among +the higher orders, and from them descends to the people; so that in +every nation the ancient nobility is the first to exhibit symptoms of +corporeal and mental degeneracy, and to show themselves unfit both for +council and war. If you recapitulate the few titled names that will +adorn the history of the present times, you will find that almost all of +them are new creations. The corporeal decay of mankind I hold to be +undeniable: the increase of general knowledge I allow: but reason is of +slow growth; and if men in general only become more corrupt as they +become more learned, the progress of literature will oppose no adequate +counterpoise to that of avarice, luxury, and disease. + +_Mr. Fax._ Certainly, the progress of reason is slow, but the ground +which it has once gained it never abandons. The interest of rulers, and +the prejudices of the people, are equally hostile to everything that +comes in the shape of innovation; but all that now wears the strongest +sanction of antiquity was once received with reluctance under the +semblance of novelty: and that reason, which in the present day can +scarcely obtain a footing from the want of precedents, will grow with +the growth of years, and become a precedent in its turn.[126] + +_Mr. Forester._ Reason may be diffused in society, but it is only in +minds which _have courage enough to despise prejudice and virtue enough +to love truth only for itself_,[127] that its seeds will germinate into +wholesome and vigorous life. The love of truth is the most noble quality +of human intellect, the most delightful in the interchange of private +confidence, the most important in the direction of those speculations +which have public happiness for their aim. Yet of all qualities this is +the most rare: it is the Phoenix of the intellectual world. In private +intercourse, how very very few are they whose assertions carry +conviction! How much petty deception, paltry equivocation, hollow +profession, smiling malevolence, and polished hypocrisy combine to make +a desert and a solitude of what is called society! How much empty +pretence and simulated patriotism, and shameless venality, and +unblushing dereliction of principle, and clamorous recrimination, and +daring imposture, and secret cabal, and mutual undermining of +‘Honourable Friends,’ render utterly loathsome and disgusting the +theatre of public life! How much timid deference to vulgar prejudice, +how much misrepresentation of the motives of conscientious opponents, +how many appeals to unreflecting passion, how much assumption of +groundless hypothesis, how many attempts to darken the clearest light +and entangle the simplest clue, render not only nugatory, but +pernicious, the speculations of moral and political reason! Pernicious, +inasmuch as it is better for the benighted traveller to remain +stationary in darkness, than to follow an _ignis fatuus_ through the +fen! Falsehood is the great vice of the age: falsehood of heart, +falsehood of mind, falsehood of every form and mode of intellect and +intercourse: so that it is hardly possible _to find a man of worth and +goodness of whom to make a friend: but he who does find such an one will +have more enjoyment of friendship than in a better age; for he will be +doubly fond of him, and will love him as Hamlet does Horatio, and with +him retiring and getting, as it were, under the shelter of a wall, will +let the storm of life blow over him_.[128] + +_Mr. Fax._ But that retirement must be consecrated to philosophical +labour, or, however delightful to the individuals, it will be treason to +the public cause. Be the world as bad as it may, it would necessarily be +much worse if the votaries of truth and the children of virtue were all +to withdraw from its vortex, and leave it to itself. If reason be +progressive, however slowly, the wise and good have sufficient +encouragement to persevere; and even if the doctrine of deterioration be +true, it is no less their duty to contribute all in their power to +retard its progress, by investigating its causes and remedies. + +_Mr. Forester._ Undoubtedly. But the progress of theoretical knowledge +has a most fearful counterpoise in the accelerated depravation of +practical morality. The frantic love of money, which seems to govern our +contemporaries to a degree unprecedented in the history of man, +paralyses the energy of independence, darkens the light of reason, and +blights the blossoms of love. + +_Mr. Fax._ The _amor sceleratus habendi_ is not peculiar either to our +times or to civilised life. _Money you must have, no matter from +whence_, is a sentence, if we may believe Euripides, as old as the +heroic age: and _the monk Rubruquis says of the Tartars, that, as +parents keep all their daughters till they can sell them, their maids +are sometimes very stale before they are married_.[129] + +_Mr. Forester._ In that respect, then, I must acknowledge the Tartars +and we are much on a par. It is a collateral question well worth +considering, how far the security of property, which contributes so much +to the diffusion of knowledge and the permanence of happiness, is +favourable to the growth of individual virtue. + +_Mr. Fax._ Security of property tranquillises the minds of men, and fits +them to shine rather in speculation than in action. In turbulent and +insecure states of society, when the fluctuations of power, or the +incursions of predatory neighbours, hang like the sword of Damocles over +the most flourishing possessions, friends are more dear to each other, +mutual services and sacrifices are more useful and more necessary, the +energies of heart and hand are continually called forth, and shining +examples of the self-oblivious virtues are produced in the same +proportion as mental speculation is unknown or disregarded: but our +admiration of these virtues must be tempered by the remark, that they +arise more from impulsive feeling than from reflective principle; and +that where life and fortune hold by such a precarious tenure, the first +may be risked, and the second abandoned, with much less effort than +would be required for inferior sacrifices in more secure and tranquil +times. + +_Mr. Forester._ Alas, my friend! I would willingly see such virtues as +do honour to human nature, without being very solicitous as to the +comparative quantities of impulse and reflection in which they +originate. If the security of property and the diffusion of general +knowledge were attended with a corresponding increase of benevolence and +_individual mental power_, no philanthropist could look with despondency +on the prospects of the world: but I can discover no symptoms of either +the one or the other. Insatiable accumulators, overgrown capitalists, +fatteners on public spoil, I cannot but consider as excrescences on the +body politic, typical of disease and prophetic of decay: yet it is to +these and such as these that the poet tunes his harp, and the man of +science consecrates his labours: it is for them that an enormous portion +of the population is condemned to unhealthy manufactories, not less +deadly but more lingering than the pestilence: it is for them that the +world rings with lamentations, if the most trivial accident, the most +transient sickness, the most frivolous disappointment befall them: but +when the prisons swarm, when the workhouses overflow, when whole +parishes declare themselves bankrupt, when thousands perish by famine in +the wintry streets, where then is the poet, where is the man of science, +where is the _elegant_ philosopher? The poet is singing hymns to the +great ones of the world, the man of science is making discoveries for +the adornment of their dwellings or the enhancement of their culinary +luxuries, and the _elegant_ philosopher is much too refined a personage +to allow such vulgar subjects as the sufferings of the poor to interfere +with his sublime speculations. _They are married and cannot come!_ + +_Mr. Fax._ Ἐψαυσας ἀλγεινοτατας ἐμοι μεριμνας![130] Those _elegant_ +philosophers are among the most fatal enemies to the advancement of +moral and political knowledge; laborious triflers, profound +investigators of nothing, everlasting talkers about taste and beauty, +who see in the starving beggar only the picturesqueness of his rags, and +in the ruined cottage only the harmonising tints of moss, mildew, and +stonecrop. + +_Mr. Forester._ We talk of public feeling and national sympathy. Our +dictionaries may define those words and our lips may echo them, but we +must look for the realities among less enlightened nations. The Canadian +savages cannot imagine the possibility of any individual in a community +having a full meal while another has but half an one:[131] still less +could they imagine that one should have too much, while another had +nothing. Theirs is that bond of brotherhood which nature weaves and +civilisation breaks, and from which the older nations grow the farther +they recede. + +_Mr. Fax._ It cannot be otherwise. The state you have described is +adapted only to a small community, and to the infancy of human society. +I shall make a very liberal concession to your views, if I admit it to +be possible that the middle stage of the progress of man is worse than +either the point from which he started or that at which he will arrive. +But it is my decided opinion that we have passed that middle stage, and +that every evil incident to the present condition of human society will +be removed by the diffusion of moral and political knowledge, and the +general increase of moral and political liberty. I contemplate with +great satisfaction the rapid decay of many hoary absurdities, which a +few transcendental hierophants of the venerable and the mysterious are +labouring in vain to revive. I look with well-grounded confidence to a +period when there will be neither slaves among the northern, nor monks +among the southern Americans. The sun of freedom has risen over that +great continent, with the certain promise of a glorious day. I form the +best hopes for my own country, in the mental improvement of the people, +whenever she shall breathe from the pressure of that preposterous system +of finance which sooner or later must fall by its own weight. + +_Mr. Forester._ I apply to our system of finance a fiction of the +northern mythology. The ash of Yggdrasil overshadows the world: +Ratatosk, the squirrel, sports in the branches: Nidhogger, the serpent, +gnaws at the root.[132] The ash of Yggdrasil is the tree of national +prosperity: Ratatosk the squirrel is the careless and unreflecting +fundholder: Nidhogger the serpent is POLITICAL CORRUPTION, which will in +time consume the root, and spread the branches on the dust. What will +then become of the squirrel? + +_Mr. Fax._ Ratatosk must look to himself: Nidhogger must be killed, and +the ash of Yggdrasil will rise like a vegetable Phoenix to flourish +again for ages. + +Thus conversing, they arrived on the sea-shore, where we shall leave +them to pursue their way, while we investigate the fate of Anthelia. + +[Illustration: _She immediately ran through the shrubbery._] + + + + + CHAPTER XLI + ALGA CASTLE + + +Anthelia had not ventured to resume her solitary rambles after her +return from Onevote; more especially as she anticipated the period when +she should revisit her favourite haunts in the society of one congenial +companion whose presence would heighten the magic of their interest, and +restore to them that feeling of security which her late adventure had +destroyed. But as she was sitting in her library on the morning of her +disappearance, she suddenly heard a faint and mournful cry, like the +voice of a child in distress. She rose, opened the window, and listened. +She heard the sounds more distinctly. They seemed to ascend from that +part of the dingle immediately beneath the shrubbery that fringed her +windows. It was certainly the cry of a child. She immediately ran +through the shrubbery and descended the rocky steps into the dingle, +where she found a little boy tied to the stem of a tree, crying and +sobbing as if his heart would break. Anthelia easily set him at liberty, +and his grief passed away like an April shower. She asked who had the +barbarity to treat him in such a manner. He said he could not tell—four +strange men on horseback had taken him up on the common where his father +lived, and brought him there and tied him to the tree, he could not tell +why. Anthelia took his hand and was leading him from the dingle, +intending to send him home by Peter Gray, when the men who had made the +little child their unconscious decoy broke from their ambush, seized +Anthelia, and taking effectual precautions to stifle her cries, placed +her on one of their horses, and travelled with great rapidity along +narrow and unfrequented ways, till they arrived at a solitary castle on +the sea-shore, where they conveyed her to a splendid suite of +apartments, and left her in solitude, locking, as they retired, the door +of the outer room. + +She was utterly unable to comprehend the motive of so extraordinary a +proceeding, or to form any conjecture as to its probable result. An old +woman of a very unmeaning physiognomy shortly after entered, to tender +her services; but to all Anthelia’s questions she only replied with a +shake of the head, and a smile which she meant to be very consolatory. + +The old woman retired, and shortly after reappeared with an elegant +dinner, which Anthelia dismissed untouched. ‘There is no harm intended +you, my sweet lady,’ said the old woman; ‘so pray don’t starve +yourself.’ Anthelia assured her she had no such intention, but had no +appetite at that time; but she drank a glass of wine at the old woman’s +earnest entreaty. + +In the evening the mystery was elucidated by a visit from Lord Anophel +Achthar; who, falling on his knees before her, entreated her to allow +the violence of his passion to plead his pardon for a proceeding which +nothing but the imminent peril of seeing her in the arms of a rival +could have induced him to adopt. Anthelia replied that, if his object +were to obtain her affections, he had taken the most effectual method to +frustrate his own views; that if he thought by constraint and cruelty to +obtain her hand without her affections, he might be assured that he +would never succeed. Her heart, however, she candidly told him, was no +longer in her power to dispose of; and she hoped, after this frank +avowal, he would see the folly, if not the wickedness, of protracting +his persecution. + +He now, still on his knees, broke out into a rhapsody about love, and +hope, and death, and despair, in which he developed the whole treasury +of his exuberant and overflowing folly. He then expatiated on his +expectations, and pointed out all the advantages of wealth and +consequence attached to the title of Marchioness of Agaric, and +concluded by saying that she must be aware so important and decisive a +measure had not been taken without the most grave and profound +deliberation, and that he never could suffer her to make her exit from +Alga Castle in any other character than that of Lady Achthar. He then +left her to meditate on his heroic resolution. + +[Illustration: _He flattered himself that Anthelia would at length come +to a determination._] + +The next day he repeated his visit—resumed his supplications—reiterated +his determination to persevere—and received from Anthelia the same +reply. She endeavoured to reason with him on the injustice and absurdity +of his proceedings; but he told her the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub and Mr. +Feathernest the poet had taught him that all reasonings pretending to +point out absurdity and injustice were manifestly jacobinical, which he, +as one of the pillars of the state, was bound not to listen to. + +He renewed his visits every day for a week, becoming with every new +visit less humble and more menacing, and consequently more disagreeable +to Anthelia, as the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, by whose instructions he +acted, secretly foresaw and designed. The latter now undertook to plead +his Lordship’s cause, and set in a clear point of view to Anthelia the +inflexibility of his Lordship’s resolutions, which, properly expounded, +could not fail to have due weight against the alternatives of protracted +solitude and hopeless resistance. + +The reverend gentleman, however, had other views than those he held out +to Lord Anophel, and presented himself to Anthelia with an aspect of +great commiseration. He said he was an unwilling witness of his +Lordship’s unjust proceedings, which he had done all in his power to +prevent, and which had been carried into effect against his will. It was +his firm intention to set her at liberty as soon as he could devise the +means of doing so; but all the outlets of Alga Castle were so guarded +that he had not yet been able to devise any feasible scheme for her +escape; but it should be his sole study night and day to effect it. + +Anthelia thanked him for his sympathy, and asked why he could not give +notice to her friends of her situation, which would accomplish the +purpose at once. He replied that Lord Anophel already mistrusted him, +and that if anything of the kind were done, however secretly he might +proceed, the suspicion would certainly fall upon him, and that he should +then be a ruined man, as all his worldly hopes rested on the Marquis of +Agaric. Anthelia offered to make him the utmost compensation for the +loss of the Marquis of Agaric’s favour; but he said that was impossible, +unless she could make him a bishop, as the Marquis of Agaric would do. +His plan, he said, must be to effect her liberation, without seeming to +be himself in any way whatever concerned in it; and though he would +willingly lose everything for her sake, yet he trusted she would not +think ill of him for wishing to wait a few days, that he might try to +devise the means of serving her without ruining himself. + +He continued his daily visits of sympathy, sometimes amusing her with a +hopeful scheme, at others detailing with a rueful face the formidable +nature of some unexpected obstacle, hinting continually at his readiness +to sacrifice everything for her sake, lamenting the necessity of delay, +and assuring her that in the meanwhile no evil should happen to her. He +flattered himself that Anthelia, wearied out with the irksomeness of +confinement, and the continual alternations of hope and disappointment, +and contrasting the respectful tenderness of his manner with the +disagreeable system of behaviour to which he had fashioned Lord Anophel, +would at length come to a determination of removing all his difficulties +by offering him her hand and fortune as a compensation for his +anticipated bishopric. It was not, however, very long before Anthelia +penetrated his design; but as she did not deem it prudent to come to a +rupture with him at that time, she continued to listen to his daily +details of plans and impediments, and allowed him to take to himself all +the merit he seemed to assume for supplying her with music and books; +though he expressed himself very much shocked at her asking him for +Gibbon and Rousseau, whose works, he said, ought to be burned _in foro_ +by the hands of _Carnifex_. + +The windows of her apartment were at an immense elevation from the +beach, as that part of the castle-wall formed a continued line with the +black and precipitous side of the rock on which it stood. During the +greater portion of the hours of daylight she sate near the window with +her harp, gazing on the changeful aspects of the wintry sea, now +slumbering like a summer lake in the sunshine of a halcyon day—now +raging beneath the sway of the tempest, while the dancing snow-flakes +seemed to accumulate on the foam of the billows, and the spray was +hurled back like snow-dust from the rocks. The feelings these scenes +suggested she developed in the following stanzas, to which she adapted a +wild and impassioned air, and they became the favourite song of her +captivity. + +[Illustration: _Gazing on the changeful aspects of the wintry sea._] + + THE MAGIC BARK + + I + + O Freedom! power of life and light! + Sole nurse of truth and glory! + Bright dweller on the rocky cliff! + Lone wanderer on the sea! + Where’er the sunbeam slumbers bright + On snow-clad mountains hoary; + Wherever flies the veering skiff, + O’er waves that breathe of thee! + Be thou the guide of all my thought— + The source of all my being— + The genius of my waking mind— + The spirit of my dreams! + To me thy magic spell be taught, + The captive spirit freeing, + To wander with the ocean-wind + Where’er thy beacon beams. + + + II + + O sweet it were, in magic bark, + On one loved breast reclining, + To sail around the varied world, + To every blooming shore; + And oft the gathering storm to mark + Its lurid folds combining; + And safely ride, with sails unfurled, + Amid the tempest’s roar; + And see the mighty breakers rave + On cliff and sand and shingle, + And hear, with long re-echoing shock, + The caverned steeps reply; + And while the storm-cloud and the wave + In darkness seemed to mingle, + To skim beside the surf-swept rock, + And glide uninjured by. + + + III + + And when the summer seas were calm, + And summer skies were smiling, + And evening came, with clouds of gold, + To gild the western wave; + And gentle airs and dews of balm, + The pensive mind beguiling, + Should call the Ocean Swain to fold + His sea-flocks in the cave, + Unearthly music’s tenderest spell, + With gentlest breezes blending + And waters softly rippling near + The prow’s light course along, + Should flow from Triton’s winding shell, + Through ocean’s depths ascending + From where it charmed the Nereid’s ear, + Her coral bowers among. + + + IV + + How sweet, where eastern Nature smiles, + With swift and mazy motion + Before the odour-breathing breeze + Of dewy morn to glide; + Or ‘mid the thousand emerald isles + That gem the southern ocean, + Where fruits and flowers, from loveliest trees, + O’erhang the slumbering tide: + Or up some western stream to sail, + To where its myriad fountains + Roll down their everlasting rills + From many a cloud-capped height, + Till mingling in some nameless vale, + ‘Mid forest-cinctured mountains, + The river-cataract shakes the hills + With vast and volumed might. + + + V + + The poison-trees their leaves should shed, + The yellow snake should perish, + The beasts of blood should crouch and cower, + Where’er that vessel past: + All plagues of fens and vapours bred, + That tropic fervours cherish, + Should fly before its healing power, + Like mists before the blast. + Where’er its keel the strand imprest + The young fruit’s ripening cluster, + The bird’s free song, its touch should greet + The opening flower’s perfume; + The streams along the green earth’s breast + Should roll in purer lustre, + And love should heighten every sweet, + And brighten every bloom. + + + VI + + And, Freedom! thy meridian blaze + Should chase the clouds that lower, + Wherever mental twilight dim + Obscures Truth’s vestal flame, + Wherever Fraud and Slavery raise + The throne of bloodstained Power, + Wherever Fear and Ignorance hymn + Some fabled daemon’s name! + The bard, where torrents thunder down + Beside thy burning altar, + Should kindle, as in days of old, + The mind’s ethereal fire; + Ere yet beneath a tyrant’s frown + The Muse’s voice could falter, + Or Flattery strung with chords of gold + The minstrel’s venal lyre. + + + + + CHAPTER XLII + CONCLUSION + + +Lord Anophel one morning paid Anthelia his usual visit. ‘You must be +aware, Miss Melincourt,’ said he, ‘that if your friends could have found +you out, they would have done it before this; but they have searched the +whole country far and near, and have now gone home in despair.’ + +_Anthelia._ That, my Lord, I cannot believe; for there is one, at least, +who I am confident will never be weary of seeking me, and who, I am +equally confident, will not always seek in vain. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ If you mean the young lunatic of Redrose Abbey, +or his friend the dumb Baronet, they are both gone to London to attend +the opening of the Honourable House; and if you doubt my word, I will +show you their names in the _Morning Post_, among the Fashionable +Arrivals at Wildman’s Hotel. + +_Anthelia._ Your Lordship’s word is quite as good as the authority you +have quoted. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ Well, then, Miss Melincourt, I presume you +perceive that you are completely in my power, and that I have gone too +far to recede. If, indeed, I had supposed myself an object of such very +great repugnance to you, which I must say (_looking at himself in a +glass_) is quite unaccountable, I might not, perhaps, have laid this +little scheme, which I thought would be only settling the affair in a +compendious way; for that any woman in England would consider it a very +great hardship to be Lady Achthar, and hereafter Marchioness of Agaric, +and would feel any very mortal resentment for means that tended to make +her so, was an idea, egad, that never entered my head. However, as I +have already observed, you are completely in my power: both our +characters are compromised, and there is only one way to mend the +matter, which is to call in Grovelgrub, and make him strike up ‘Dearly +beloved.’ + +[Illustration: _Preparing to administer natural justice by throwing him +out at the window._] + +_Anthelia._ As to your character, Lord Anophel, that must be your +concern. Mine is in my own keeping; for, having practised all my life a +system of uniform sincerity, which gives me a right to be believed by +all who know me, and more especially by all who love me, I am perfectly +indifferent to private malice or public misrepresentation. + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ There is such a thing, Miss Melincourt, as +tiring out a man’s patience; and, ‘pon honour, if gentle means don’t +succeed with you, I must have recourse to rough ones, ‘pon honour. + +_Anthelia._ My Lord! + +_Lord Anophel Achthar._ I am serious, curse me. You will be glad enough +to hush all up, then, and we’ll go to court together in due form. + +_Anthelia._ What you mean by hushing up, Lord Anophel, I know not: but +of this be assured, that under no circumstances will I ever be your +wife; and that whatever happens to me in any time or place, shall be +known to all who are interested in my welfare. I know too well the +difference between the true quality of a pure and simple mind and the +false affected modesty which goes by that name in the world, to be +intimidated by threats which can only be dictated by a supposition that +your wickedness would be my disgrace, and that false shame would induce +me to conceal what both truth and justice would command me to make +known. + +[Illustration: _We shall leave them to run_ ad libitum.] + +Lord Anophel stood aghast for a few minutes, at the declaration of such +unfashionable sentiments. At length saying, ‘Ay, preaching is one thing, +and practice another, as Grovelgrub can testify,’ he seized her hand +with violence, and threw his arm round her waist. Anthelia screamed, and +at that very moment a violent noise of ascending steps was heard on the +stairs; the door was burst open, and Sir Oran Haut-ton appeared in the +aperture, with the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub in custody, whom he dragged +into the apartment, followed by Mr. Forester and Mr. Fax. Mr. Forester +flew to Anthelia, who threw herself into his arms, hid her face in his +bosom, and burst into tears: which when Sir Oran saw, his wrath grew +boundless, and quitting his hold of the Rev. Mr. Grovelgrub (who +immediately ran downstairs, and out of the castle, as fast as a pair of +short thick legs could carry him), seized on Lord Anophel Achthar, and +was preparing to administer natural justice by throwing him out at the +window; but Mr. Fax interposed, and calling Mr. Forester’s attention, +which was totally engaged with Anthelia, they succeeded in rescuing the +terrified sprig of nobility; who immediately, leaving the enemy in free +possession, flew downstairs after his reverend tutor; whom, on issuing +from the castle, he discovered at an immense distance on the sands, +still running with all his might. Lord Anophel gave him chase, and after +a long time came within hail of him, and shouted to him to stop. But +this only served to quicken the reverend gentleman’s speed; who, hearing +the voice of pursuit, and too much terrified to look back, concluded +that the dumb Baronet had found his voice, and was then in the very act +of gaining on his flight. Therefore, the more Lord Anophel shouted +‘Stop!’ the more nimbly the reverend gentleman sped along the sands, +running and roaring all the way, like Falstaff on Gadshill; his Lordship +still exerting all his powers of speed in the rear, and gaining on his +flying Mentor by very imperceptible gradations: where we shall leave +them to run _ad libitum_, while we account for the sudden appearance of +Mr. Forester and his friends. + +[Illustration: ‘_He would confess all._’] + +We left them walking along the shore of the sea, which they followed +till they arrived in the vicinity of Alga Castle, from which the +Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub emerged in evil hour, to take a meditative walk +on the sands. The keen sight of the natural man descried him from far. +Sir Oran darted on his prey; and though it is supposed that he could not +have overtaken the swift-footed Achilles,[133] he had very little +difficulty in overtaking the Reverend Mr. Grovelgrub, who had begun to +run for his life as soon as he was aware of the foe. Sir Oran shook his +stick over his head, and the reverend gentleman dropping on his knees, +put his hands together, and entreated for mercy, saying ‘he would +confess all.’ Mr. Forester and Mr. Fax came up in time to hear the +proposal: the former restrained the rage of Sir Oran, who, however, +still held his prisoner fast by the arm; and the reluctant divine, with +many a heavy groan, conducted his unwelcome company to the door of +Anthelia’s apartments. + +‘O Forester!’ said Anthelia, ‘you have realised all my wishes. I have +found you the friend of the poor, the enthusiast of truth, the +disinterested cultivator of the rural virtues, the active promoter of +the cause of human liberty. It only remained that you should emancipate +a captive damsel, who, however, will but change the mode of her durance, +and become your captive for life.’ + + +It was not long after this event, before the Reverend Mr. Portpipe and +the old chapel of Melincourt Castle were put in requisition, to make a +mystical unit of Anthelia and Mr. Forester. The day was celebrated with +great festivity throughout their respective estates, and the Reverend +Mr. Portpipe was _voti compos_, that is to say, he had taken a +resolution on the day of Anthelia’s christening, that he would on the +day of her marriage drink one bottle more than he had ever taken at one +sitting on any other occasion; which resolution he had now the +satisfaction of carrying into effect. + +Sir Oran Haut-ton continued to reside with Mr. Forester and Anthelia. +They discovered in the progress of time that he had formed for the +latter the same kind of reverential attachment as the Satyr in Fletcher +forms for the Holy Shepherdess:[134] and Anthelia might have said to him +in the words of Corin: + + They wrong thee that do call thee rude: + Though thou be’st outward rough and tawny-hued, + Thy manners are as gentle and as fair + As his who boasts himself born only heir + To all humanity. + +His greatest happiness was in listening to the music of her harp and +voice: in the absence of which he solaced himself, as usual, with his +flute and French horn. He became likewise a proficient in drawing; but +what progress he made in the art of speech we have not been able to +ascertain. + +Mr. Fax was a frequent visitor at Melincourt, and there was always a +cover at the table for the Reverend Mr. Portpipe. + +Mr. Hippy felt half inclined to make proposals to Miss Evergreen; but +understanding from Mr. Forester that, from the death of her lover in +early youth, that lady had irrevocably determined on a single life,[135] +he comforted himself with passing half his time at Melincourt Castle, +and dancing the little Foresters on his knee, whom he taught to call him +‘grandpapa Hippy,’ and seemed extremely proud of the imaginary +relationship. + +Mr. Forester disposed of Redrose Abbey to Sir Telegraph Paxarett, who, +after wearing the willow twelve months, married, left off driving, and +became a very respectable specimen of an English country gentleman. + +We must not conclude without informing those among our tender-hearted +readers who would be much grieved if Miss Danaretta Contantina Pinmoney +should have been disappointed in her principal object of making a _good +match_, that she had at length the satisfaction, through the skilful +management of her mother, of making the happiest of men of Lord Anophel +Achthar. + + + THE END + + + _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_. + +----- + +Footnote 1: + + The following is the motto of the title-page of the first + edition:—‘Nous nous moquons des Paladins! quand ces maximes + romanesques commencèrent à devenir ridicules, ce changement fut moins + l’ouvrage de la raison que celui des mauvaises mœurs.’—ROUSSEAU. + +Footnote 2: + + Written in 1817.—Published in 1818. + +Footnote 3: + + Hor. Epist. I. ii. 27–30. + +Footnote 4: + + Junius. + +Footnote 5: + + For Lucy Gray and Alice Fell, see Mr. Wordsworth’s Lyrical Ballads. + +Footnote 6: + + Coleridge’s ‘Friend.’ + +Footnote 7: + + ‘There is not any burden that some would gladlier post off to + another than the charge and care of their religion. There be of + Protestants and professors who live and die in as arrant and + implicit faith as any lay Papist of Loretto. A wealthy man, addicted + to his pleasure and to his profits, finds religion to be a traffic + so entangled and of so many peddling accounts, that, of all + mysteries, he cannot skill to keep a stock going upon that trade. + What should he do? Fain would he have the name to be religious: fain + would he bear up with his neighbours in that. What does he, + therefore, but resolves to give over toiling, and to find himself + out some factor, to whose care and credit he may commit the whole + management of his religious affairs; some divine of note and + estimation that must be. To him he adheres, resigns the whole + warehouse of his religion, with all the locks and keys, into his + custody, and, indeed, makes the very person of that man his + religion, esteems his associating with him a sufficient evidence and + commendatory of his own piety. So that a man may say, his religion + is now no more within himself, but is become a dividual movable, and + goes and comes near him according as that good man frequents the + house. He entertains him, gives him gifts, feasts him, lodges him: + his religion comes home at night, prays, is liberally supped, and + sumptuously laid to sleep, rises, is saluted, and after the malmsey, + or some well-spiced brewage, and better breakfasted than he whose + morning appetite would have gladly fed on green figs between Bethany + and Jerusalem, his religion walks abroad at eight, and leaves his + kind entertainer in the shop, trading all day without his + religion.’—MILTON’S _Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing_. + +Footnote 8: + + ‘I think I have established his humanity by proof that ought to + satisfy every one who gives credit to human testimony.’—_Ancient + Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. 40. + + ‘I have brought myself to a perfect conviction that the oran outang is + a human creature as much as any of us.’—_Ibid._ + + ‘Nihil humani ei deesse diceres praeter loquelam.’—BONTIUS. + + ‘The fact truly is, that the man is easily distinguishable in him; nor + are there any differences betwixt him and us, but what may be + accounted for in so satisfactory a manner that it would be + extraordinary and unnatural if they were not to be found. His body, + which is of the same shape as ours, is bigger and stronger than + ours, ... according to that general law of nature above observed + (_that all animals thrive best in their natural state_). His mind is + such as that of a man must be, uncultivated by arts and sciences, and + living wild in the woods.... One thing, at least, is certain: that if + ever men were in that state which I call natural, it must have been in + such a country and climate as Africa, where they could live without + art upon the natural fruits of the earth. “Such countries,” Linnaeus + says, “are the native country of man; there he lives naturally; in + other countries, _non nisi coacte_, that is, by force of art.” If this + be so, then the short history of man is, that the race, having begun + in those fine climates, and having, as is natural, multiplied there so + much that the spontaneous productions of the earth could not support + them, they migrated into other countries, where they were obliged to + invent arts for their subsistence; and with such arts, language, in + process of time, would necessarily come.... That my facts and + arguments are so convincing as to leave no doubt of the humanity of + the oran outang, I will not take upon me to say; but thus much I will + venture to affirm, that I have said enough to make the philosopher + consider it as problematical, and a subject deserving to be inquired + into. _For, as to the vulgar, I can never expect that they should + acknowledge any relation to those inhabitants of the woods of Angola_; + but that they should continue, through a false pride, to think highly + derogatory from human nature what the philosopher, on the contrary, + will think the greatest praise of man, that from the savage state in + which the oran outang is, he should, by his own sagacity and industry, + have arrived at the state in which we now see him.’—_Origin and + Progress of Language_, book ii. chap. 5. + +Footnote 9: + + ‘L’Oran Outang, ou l’homme des bois, est un être particulier à la zone + torride de notre hémisphère: le Pline de la nation qui l’a rangé dans + la classe de singes ne me paroît pas conséquent; car il résulte des + principaux traits de sa description que c’est un homme + dégénère.’—_Philosophie de la Nature._ + +Footnote 10: + + ‘The dispositions and affections of his mind are mild, gentle, and + humane.’—_Origin and Progress of Language_, book ii. chap. 4. + + ‘The oran outang whom Buffon himself saw was of a sweet + temper.’—_Ibid._ + +Footnote 11: + + ‘But though I hold the oran outang to be of our species, it must not + be supposed that I think the monkey or ape, with or without a tail, + participates of our nature: on the contrary, I maintain that, however + much his form may resemble man’s, yet he is, as Linnaeus says, of the + Troglodyte, _nec nostri generis nec sanguinis_. For as the mind, or + internal principle, is the chief part of every animal, it is by it + principally that the ancients have distinguished the several species. + Now it is laid down by Mr. Buffon, and I believe it to be a fact that + cannot be contested, that neither monkey, ape, nor baboon, have + anything mild or gentle, tractable or docile, benevolent or humane in + their dispositions; but, on the contrary, are malicious and + untractable, to be governed only by force and fear, and without any + _gravity or composure in their gait or behaviour, such as the oran + outang has_.’—_Origin and Progress of Language_, book ii. chap. 4. + +Footnote 12: + + ‘He is capable of the greatest affection, not only to his brother oran + outangs, but to such among us as use him kindly. And it is a fact well + attested to me by a gentleman who was an eye-witness of it, that an + oran outang on board his ship conceived such an affection for the + cook, that when upon some occasion he left the ship to go ashore, the + gentleman saw the oran outang shed tears in great abundance.’—_Ibid._ + book ii. chap. 4. + +Footnote 13: + + ‘One of them was taken, and brought with some negro slaves to the + capital of the kingdom of Malemba. He was a young one, but six feet + and a half tall. Before he came to this city he had been kept some + months in company with the negro slaves, and during that time was tame + and gentle, and took his victuals very quietly; but when he was + brought into the town, such crowds of people came about him to gaze at + him, that he could not bear it, but grew sullen, abstained from food, + and died in four or five days.’—_Ibid._ book ii. chap. 4. + +Footnote 14: + + ‘He has the capacity of being a musician, and has actually learned to + play upon the pipe and harp: a fact attested, not by a common + traveller, but by a man of science, Mr. Peiresc, and who relates it, + not as a hearsay, but as a fact consisting with his own knowledge. And + this is the more to be attended to, as it shows that the oran outang + has a perception of numbers, measure, and melody, which has always + been accounted peculiar to our species. But the learning to speak, as + well as the learning music, must depend upon particular circumstances; + and men living as the oran outangs do, upon the natural fruits of the + earth, with few or no arts, are not in a situation that is proper for + the invention of language. The oran outangs who played upon the pipe + had certainly not invented this art in the woods, but they had learned + it from the negroes or the Europeans; and that they had not at the + same time learned to speak, may be accounted for in one or other of + two ways: either the same pains had not been taken to teach them + articulation; or, secondly, music is more natural to man, and more + easily acquired than speech.’—_Origin and Progress of Language_, book + ii. chap. 5. + +Footnote 15: + + ‘Ces animaux,’ dit M. de la Brosse, ‘ont l’instinct de s’asseoir à + table comme les hommes; ils mangent de tout sans distinction; ils se + servent du couteau, de la cuillère, et de la fourchette, pour prendre + et couper ce qu’on sert sur l’assiette: _ils boivent du vin et + d’autres liqueurs_: nous les portâmes à bord; quand ils étoient à + table ils se faisoient entendre des mousses lorsqu’ils avoient besoin + de quelque chose.’—BUFFON. + +Footnote 16: + + ‘If I can believe the newspapers, there was an oran outang of the + great kind, that was some time ago shipped aboard a French East India + ship. I hope he has had a safe voyage to Europe, and that his + education will be taken care of.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. + 40. + +Footnote 17: + + _Origin and Progress of Language_, book ii. chap. 4. + +Footnote 18: + + ‘Homo nocturnus, Troglodytes, silvestris, orang outang Bontii. Corpus + album, incessu erectum.... Loquitur sibilo, cogitat, ratiocinatur, + credit sui causa factam tellurem, se aliquando iterum fore + imperantem.’—LINNAEUS. + +Footnote 19: + + ‘Il n’a point de queue: ses bras, ses mains, ses doigts, ses ongles, + sont pareils aux nôtres: il marche toujours debout: il a des traits + approchans de ceux de l’homme, des oreilles de la même forme, des + cheveux sur la tête, de la barbe au menton, et du poil ni plus ni + moins que l’homme en a dans l’état de nature. Aussi les habitans de + son pays, les Indiens policés, n’ont pas hésité de l’associer à + l’espèce humaine, par le nom d’oran outang, _homme sauvage_. Si l’on + ne faisoit attention qu’à la figure, on pourroit regarder l’oran + outang comme le premier des singes ou le dernier des hommes, parce + qu’à l’exception de l’âme, il ne lui manque rien de tout ce que nous + avons, et parce qu’il diffère moins de l’homme pour le corps qu’il ne + diffère des autres animaux auxquels on a donné le même nom de + singe.—S’il y avoit un degré par lequel on pût descendre de la nature + humaine à celle des animaux, si l’essence de cette nature consistoit + en entier dans la forme du corps et dépendoit de son organisation, + l’oran outang se trouveroit plus près de l’homme que d’aucun animal: + assis au second rang des êtres, s’il ne pouvoit commander en premier, + il feroit au moins sentir aux autres sa supériorité, et s’efforceroit + à ne pas obéir: si l’imitation qui semble copier de si près la pensée + en étoit le vrai signe ou l’un des résultats, il se trouveroit encore + à une plus grande distance des animaux et plus voisin de + l’homme.’—BUFFON. + + ‘On est tout étonné, d’après tous ces aveux, que M. de Buffon ne fasse + de l’oran outang qu’une espèce de magot, essentiellement circonscrit + dans les bornes de l’animalité: il falloit, ou infirmer les rélations + des voyageurs, ou s’en tenir à leurs résultats.—Quand on lit dans ce + naturaliste l’histoire du Nègre blanc, on voit que ce bipède diffère + de nous bien plus que l’oran outang, soit par l’organisation, soit par + l’intelligence, et cependant on ne balance pas à le mettre dans la + classe des hommes.’—_Philosophie de la Nature._ + +Footnote 20: + + ‘Les jugemens précipités, et qui ne sont point le fruit d’une raison + éclairée, sont sujets à donner dans l’excès. Nos voyageurs font sans + façon des bêtes, sous les noms de pongos, de mandrills, d’oran + outangs, de ces mêmes êtres, dont, sous le nom de satyres, de faunes, + de sylvains, les anciens faisoient des divinités. Peut-être, après des + recherches plus exactes, trouvera-t-on que ce sont des + hommes.’—ROUSSEAU, _Discours sur l’Inégalité_, note 8. + + ‘Il est presque démontré que les faunes, les satyres, les sylvains, + les ægipans, et toute cette foule de demi-dieux, difformes et + libertins, à qui les filles des Phocion et des Paul Émile s’avisèrent + de rendre hommage, ne furent dans l’origine que des oran outangs. Dans + la suite, les poëtes chargèrent le portrait de l’homme des bois, en + lui donnant des pieds de chèvre, une queue et des cornes; mais le type + primordial resta, et le philosophe l’apperçoit dans les monumens les + plus défigurés par l’imagination d’Ovide et le ciseau de Phidias. Les + anciens, très embarrassés de trouver la filiation de leurs sylvains, + et de leurs satyres, se tirèrent d’affaire en leur donnant des dieux + pour pères: les dieux étoient d’un grand secours aux philosophes des + temps reculés, pour résoudre les problèmes d’histoire naturelle; ils + leur servoient comme les cycles et les épicycles dans le système + planétaire de Ptolomée: avec des cycles et des dieux on répond à tout, + quoiqu’on ne satisfasse personne.’—_Philosophie de la Nature._ + +Footnote 21: + + Orphica, Hymn. XI. (X _Gesn._) + +Footnote 22: + + The words in italics are from the _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. pp. + 41, 42. Lord Monboddo adds: ‘I hold it to be impossible to convince + any philosopher, or any man of common sense, who has bestowed any time + to consider the mechanism of speech, that such various actions and + configurations of the organs of speech as are necessary for + articulation can be natural to man. Whoever thinks this possible, + should go and see, as I have done, Mr. Braidwood of Edinburgh, or the + Abbé de l’Epée in Paris, teach the dumb to speak; and when he has + observed all the different actions of the organs, which those + professors are obliged to mark distinctly to their pupils with a great + deal of pains and labour, so far from thinking articulation natural to + man, he will rather wonder how, by any teaching or imitation, he + should attain to the ready performance of such various and complicated + operations.’ + + ‘Quoique l’organe de la parole soit naturel à l’homme, la parole + elle-même ne lui est pourtant pas naturelle.’—ROUSSEAU, _Discours sur + l’Inégalité_, note 8. + + ‘The oran outang, so accurately dissected by Tyson, had exactly the + same organs of voice that a man has.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. + p. 44. + + ‘I have been told that the oran outang who is to be seen in Sir Ashton + Lever’s collection, had learned before he died to articulate some + words.’—_Ibid._ p. 40. + +Footnote 23: + + ‘I desire any philosopher to tell me the specific difference between + an oran outang sitting at table, and behaving as M. de la Brosse or M. + Buffon himself has described him, and one of our dumb persons; and in + general I believe it will be very difficult, or rather impossible, for + a man who is accustomed to divide things according to specific marks, + not individual differences, to draw the line betwixt the oran outang + and the dumb persons among us: they have both their organs of + pronunciation, and both show signs of intelligence by their + actions.’—_Origin and Progress of Language_, book ii. chap. 4. + +Footnote 24: + + _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iv. p. 55. + +Footnote 25: + + ‘Toute la terre est couverte de nations, dont nous ne connoissons que + les noms, et nous nous mêlons de juger le genre humain! Supposons un + Montesquieu, un Buffon, un Diderot, un Duclos, un d’Alembert, un + Condillac, ou des hommes de cette trempe, voyageant pour instruire + leurs compatriotes, observant et décrivant comme ils sçavent faire, la + Turquie, l’Égypte, la Barbarie, l’Empire de Maroc, la Guinée, le pays + des Caffres, l’intérieur de l’Afrique et ses côtes orientales, les + Malabares, le Mogol, les rives du Gange, les royaumes de Siam, de Pégu + et d’Ava, la Chine, la Tartarie, et sur-tout le Japon; puis dans + l’autre hémisphère le Méxique, le Pérou, le Chili, les Terres + Magellaniques, sans oublier les Patagons vrais ou faux, le Tucuman, le + Paraguai, s’il étoit possible, le Brésil, enfin les Caraïbes, la + Floride, et toutes les contrées sauvages, voyage le plus important de + tous, et celui qu’il faudroit faire avec le plus de soin; supposons + que ces nouveaux Hercules, de retour de ces courses mémorables, + fissent à loisir l’histoire naturelle, morale, et politique de ce + qu’ils auroient vus, nous verrions nous-mêmes sortir un monde nouveau + de dessous leur plume, et nous apprendrions ainsi à connoître le + nôtre: je dis que quand de pareils observateurs affirmeront d’un tel + animal que c’est un homme, et d’un autre que c’est une bête, il faudra + les en croire: mais ce seroit une grande simplicité de s’en rapporter + là-dessus à des voyageurs grossiers, sur lesquels on seroit + quelquefois tenté de faire la même question qu’ils se mêlent de + résoudre sur d’autres animaux.’—ROUSSEAU, _Discours sur l’Inégalité_, + note 8. + +Footnote 26: + + ΑΝΩΦΕΛον ΑΧΘος ΑΡουρας. _Terrae pondus inutile._ + +Footnote 27: + + _Agaricus_, in Botany, a genus of plants of the class Cryptogamia, + comprehending the mushroom, and a copious variety of toadstools. + +Footnote 28: + + ἐγγυς γαρ νυκτος τε και ἡματος εἰσι κελευθοι. + +Footnote 29: + + ‘Ils sont si robustes, dit le traducteur de l’Histoire des Voyages, + que dix hommes ne suffiroient pas pour les arrêter.’—ROUSSEAU. + + ‘The oran outang is prodigiously strong.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. + iv. p. 51; vol. v. p. 4. + + ‘I have heard the natives say, he can throw down a palm-tree, by his + amazing strength, to come at the wine.’—_Letter of a Bristol Merchant + in a note to the Origin and Progress of Language_, book ii. chap. 4. + +Footnote 30: + + See Louvet’s _Récit de mes Périls_. + +Footnote 31: + + Rousseau, _Émile_, liv. 5. + +Footnote 32: + + ‘L’issue aucthorise souvent une tres-inepte conduitte. Nostre + entremise n’est quasy qu’une routine, et plus communement + consideration d’usage et d’exemple que de raison.... L’heur et le + malheur sont à mon gré deux souveraines puissances. C’est imprudence + d’estimer que l’humaine prudence puisse remplir le roolle de la + fortune. Et vaine est l’entreprinse de celuy qui presume d’embrasser + et causes et consequences, et meiner par la main le progrez de son + faict.... Qu’on reguarde qui sont les plus puissans aux villes, et + qui font mieulx leurs besongnes, on trouvera ordinairement que ce + sont les moins habiles.... Nous attribuons les effects de leur bonne + fortune à leur prudence.... Parquoy je dy bien, en toutes façons, + que les evenements sont maigres tesmoings de nostre prix et + capacité.’—MONTAIGNE, liv. iii. chap. 8. + +Footnote 33: + + Ecclesiastes, chap. iv. + +Footnote 34: + + _Origin and Progress of Language_, book ii. chap. 4. + +Footnote 35: + + ‘I have endeavoured to support the ancient definition of man, and to + show that it belongs to the oran outang, though he have not the use of + speech. And indeed it appears surprising to me that any man, + pretending to be a philosopher, should not be satisfied with the + expression of intelligence in the most useful way for the purposes of + life; I mean by actions; but should require likewise the expression of + them, by those signs of arbitrary institution we call _words_, before + they will allow an animal to deserve the name of _man_. Suppose that, + upon inquiry, it should be found that the oran outangs have not only + invented the art of building huts, and of attacking and defending with + sticks, _but also have contrived a way of communicating to the absent, + and recording their ideas by the method of painting or drawing_, as is + practised by many barbarous nations (and the supposition is not at all + impossible, or even improbable); and suppose they should have + contrived some form of government, and should elect kings or rulers, + which is possible, and, according to the information of the Bristol + merchant above mentioned, is reported to be actually the case, what + would Mr. Buffon then say? Must they still be accounted brutes, + because they have not yet fallen upon the method of communication by + articulate sounds?’—_Origin and Progress of Language_, book ii. chap. + 4. + +Footnote 36: + + Wordsworth’s ‘Tintern Abbey.’ + +Footnote 37: + + The _Iliad_. + +Footnote 38: + + The _Odyssey_. + +Footnote 39: + + The _Prometheus_ of Aeschylus. + +Footnote 40: + + The _Philoctetes_ of Sophocles. + +Footnote 41: + + The _Hippolytus_ of Euripides. + +Footnote 42: + + ‘Je l’ai vu présenter sa main pour reconduire les gens qui venoient le + visiter; se promener gravement avec eux et comme de compagnie, + etc.’—BUFFON. _H. N. de l’Oran Outang._ + +Footnote 43: + + Fletcher’s ‘Sea Voyage.’ + +Footnote 44: + + Anima certe, quia spiritus est, in sicco habitare non potest. + +Footnote 45: + + _Edinburgh Review_, No. liii. p. 10. + +Footnote 46: + + See the preface to the third volume of the _Ancient Metaphysics_. See + also Rousseau’s _Discourse on Inequality_ and that on the _Arts and + Sciences_. + +Footnote 47: + + nam si Pieria quadrans tibi nullus in umbra + ostendatur, ames nomen victumque Machaerae, + et vendas potius commissa quod auctio vendit, etc.—JUV. + +Footnote 48: + + ‘They use an artificial weapon for attack and defence, viz. a stick, + which no animal merely brute is known to do.’—_Origin and Progress of + Language_, book ii. chap. 4. + +Footnote 49: + + ‘There is a story of one of them, which seems to show they have a + sense of justice as well as honour. For a negro having shot a female + of this kind, that was feeding among his Indian corn, the male, whom + our author calls the husband of this female, pursued the negro into + his house, of which having forced open the door, he seized the negro + and dragged him out of the house to the place where his wife lay dead + or wounded, and the people of the neighbourhood could not rescue the + negro, nor force the oran to quit his hold of him, till they shot him + likewise.’—_Origin and Progress of Language_, book ii. chap. 4. + +Footnote 50: + + See Chap. IV. + +Footnote 51: + + ‘Homer has said nothing, positively, of the size of any of his heroes, + but only comparatively, as I shall presently observe: nor is this to + be wondered at; for I know no historian, ancient or modern, that says + anything of the size of the men of his own nation, except + comparatively with that of other nations. But in that fine episode of + his, called by the ancient critics the Τειχοσκοπια or _Prospect from + the Walls_, he has given us a very accurate description of the persons + of several of the Greek heroes; which I am persuaded he had from very + good information. In this description he tells us that Ulysses was + shorter than Agamemnon by the head, shorter than Menelaus by the head + and shoulders, and that Ajax was taller than any of the Greeks by the + head and shoulders; consequently, Ulysses was shorter than Ajax by two + heads and shoulders, which we cannot reckon less than four feet. Now, + if we suppose heroes to have been no bigger than we, then Ajax must + have been a man about six feet and a half, or at most seven feet; and + if so Ulysses must have been most contemptibly short, not more than + three feet, which is certainly not the truth, but a most absurd and + ridiculous fiction, such as we cannot suppose in Homer: whereas, if we + allow Ajax to have been twelve or thirteen feet high, and, much more, + if we suppose him to have been eleven cubits, as Philostratus makes + him, Ulysses, though four feet short of him, would have been of a good + size, and, with the extraordinary breadth which Homer observes he had, + may have been as strong a man as Ajax.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. + iii. p. 146. + +Footnote 52: + + ‘It was only in after-ages, when the size of men was greatly + decreased, that the bodies of those heroes, if they happened to be + discovered, were, as was natural, admired and exactly measured. Such a + thing happened in Laconia, where the body of Orestes was discovered, + and found to be of length seven cubits, that is, ten feet and a half. + The story is most pleasantly told by Herodotus, and is to this effect: + The Lacedemonians were engaged in a war with the Tegeatae, a people of + Arcadia, in which they were unsuccessful. They consulted the oracle at + Delphi, what they should do in order to be more successful. The oracle + answered ‘That they must bring to Sparta the bones of Orestes, the son + of Agamemnon.’ But these bones they could not find, and therefore they + sent again to the oracle to inquire where Orestes lay buried. The god + answered in hexameter verse, but so obscurely and enigmatically that + they could not understand what he meant. They went about inquiring + everywhere for the bones of Orestes, till at last a wise man among + them, called by Herodotus _Liches_, found them out, partly by good + fortune, and partly by good understanding; for, happening to come one + day to a smith’s shop in the country of the Tegeatae, with whom at + that time there was a truce and intercourse betwixt the two nations, + he looked at the operations of the smith, and seemed to admire them + very much; which the smith observing, stopped his work, and, + “Stranger,” says he, “you that seem to admire so much the working of + iron would have wondered much more if you had seen what I saw lately; + for, as I was digging for a well in this court here, I fell upon a + coffin that was seven cubits long; but _believing that there never + were at any time bigger men than the present_, I opened the coffin, + and found there a dead body as long as the coffin, which having + measured I again buried.” Hearing this, the Spartan conjectured that + the words of the oracle would apply to a smith’s shop, and to the + operations there performed; but taking care not to make this discovery + to the smith, he prevailed on him, with much difficulty, to give him a + lease of the court; which having obtained, he opened the coffin, and + carried the bones to Sparta. After which, says our author, the + Spartans were upon every occasion superior in fight to the + Tegeatae.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. 146. + + ‘The most of our philosophers at present are, I believe, of the + opinion of the smith in Herodotus, who might be excused for having + that opinion at a time when perhaps no other heroic body had been + discovered. But in later times, I believe there was not the most + vulgar man in Greece, who did not believe that those heroes were very + much superior, both in mind and body, to the men of after-times. + Indeed, they were not considered as mere men, but as something betwixt + gods and men, and had _heroic_ honours paid them, which were next to + the _divine_. On the stage they were represented as of extraordinary + size, both as to length and breadth; for the actor was not only raised + upon very high shoes, which they called _cothurns_, but he was put + into a case that swelled his size prodigiously (and I have somewhere + read a very ridiculous story of one of them, who, coming upon the + stage, fell and broke his case, so that all the trash with which it + was stuffed, came out and was scattered upon the stage in the view of + the whole people). This accounts for the high style of ancient + tragedy, in which the heroes speak a language so uncommon, that, if I + considered them as men nowise superior to us, I should think it little + better than fustian, and should be apt to apply to it what Falstaff + says to Pistol: “Pr’ythee, Pistol, speak like a man of this world.” + And I apply the same observation to Homer’s poems. If I considered his + heroes as no more than men of this world, I should consider the things + he relates of them as quite ridiculous; but believing them to be men + very much superior to us, I read Homer with the highest admiration, + not only as a poet, but as the historian of the noblest race of men + that ever existed. Thus, by having right notions of the superiority of + men in former times, we both improve our philosophy of man and our + taste in poetry.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. 150. + +Footnote 53: + + ‘But though we should give no credit to those ancient authors, there + are monuments still extant, one particularly to be seen in our own + island, which I think ought to convince every man that the men of + ancient times were much superior to us, at least in the powers of the + body. The monument I mean is well known by the name of Stonehenge, and + there are several of the same kind to be seen in Denmark and Germany. + I desire to know where are the arms now, that, with so little help of + machinery as they must have had, could have raised and set up on end + such a number of prodigious stones, and put others on the top of them, + likewise of very great size? Such works are said by the peasants in + Germany to be the works of giants, and I think they must have been + giants compared with us. And, indeed, the men who erected Stonehenge + could not, I imagine, be of size inferior to that man whose body was + found in a quarry near to Salisbury, within a mile of which Stonehenge + stands. The body of that man was fourteen feet ten inches. The fact is + attested by an eye-witness, one Elyote, who writes, I believe, the + first English-Latin Dictionary that ever was published. It is printed + in London in 1542, in folio, and has, under the word _Gigas_, the + following passage: “About thirty years past and somewhat more, I + myself beynge with my father Syr Rycharde Elyote at a monastery of + regular canons, called Juy Churche, two myles from the citie of + Sarisburye, beholde the bones of a deade man founde deep in the + grounde, where they dygged stone, which being joined togyther, was in + length xiiii feet and ten ynches, there beynge mette; whereof one of + the teethe my father hadde, whych was of the quantytie of a great + walnutte. This have I wrytten, because some menne wylle believe + nothynge that is out of the compasse of theyre owne knowledge, and yet + some of them presume to have knowledge, above any other, contempnynge + all men but themselfes or suche as they favour.” It is for the reason + mentioned by this author that I have given so many examples of the + greater size of men than is to be seen in our day, to which I could + add several others concerning bodies that have been found in this our + island, particularly one mentioned by Hector Boece in his _Description + of Scotland_, prefixed to his Scotch History, where he tells us that + in a certain church which he names in the shire of Murray, the bones + of a man of much the same size as those of the man mentioned by + Elyote, viz. fourteen feet, were preserved. One of these bones Boece + himself saw, and has particularly described.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, + vol. iii. p. 156. + + ‘But without having recourse to bones or monuments of any kind, if a + man has looked upon the world as long as I have done with any + observation he must be convinced that the size of man is diminishing. + I have seen such bodies of men as are not now to be seen: I have + observed in families, of which I have known three generations, a + gradual decline in that, and I am afraid in other respects. Others may + think otherwise; but for my part I have so great a veneration for our + ancestors, that I have much indulgence for that ancient superstition + among the Etrurians, and from them derived to the Romans, of + worshipping the _manes_ of their ancestors under the names of _Lares_ + or domestic gods, which undoubtedly proceeded upon the supposition + that they were men superior to themselves, and their departed souls + such genii as Hesiod has described, + + ἐσθλοι, ἀλεξικακοι, φυλακες θνητων ἀνθρωπων. + + And if antiquity and the universal consent of nations can give a + sanction to any opinion, it is to this, that our forefathers were + better men than we. Even as far back as the Trojan war, the best age + of men of which we have any particular account, Homer has said that + few men were better than their fathers, and the greater part worse: + + οἱ πλεονες κακιους, παυροι δε τε πατρος ἀρειους. + + And this he puts into the mouth of the Goddess of Wisdom.... But when + I speak of the universal consent of nations, I ought to except the + men, and particularly the young men, of this age, who generally + believe themselves to be better men than their fathers, or than any of + their predecessors.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. 161. + +Footnote 54: + + ἡμεις μεν προπαν ἡμαρ, ἐς ἡελιον καταδυντα, + ἡμεθα, δαινυμενοι κρεα τ’ ἀσπετα και μεθυ ἡδυ κτλ. + +Footnote 55: + + The nightingale is gay, + For she can vanquish night, + Dreaming, she sings of day, + Notes that make darkness bright. + + But when the refluent gloom + Saddens the gaps of song, + We charge on her the dolefulness, + And call her crazed with wrong.—PATMORE. + +Footnote 56: + + Hudibras, Part III. ii. 1493. + +Footnote 57: + + See Forsyth’s _Principles of Moral Science_. + +Footnote 58: + + ‘Il buvoit du vin, mais le laissoit volontiers pour du lait, du thé, + ou d’autres liqueurs douces.’—BUFFON _of the Oran Outang, whom he saw + himself in Paris_. + +Footnote 59: + + See Mr. Wordsworth’s Lyrical Ballads. + +Footnote 60: + + The figures of speech marked in italics are familiar to the admirers + of parliamentary rhetoric. + +Footnote 61: + + _Supplices_, 807, ed. Schutz. + +Footnote 62: + + Matthew xi. 19. + +Footnote 63: + + ‘He that will mould a modern bishop into a primitive, must yield him + to be elected by the popular voice, undiocesed, unrevenued, unlorded, + and leave him nothing but brotherly equality, matchless temperance, + frequent fasting, incessant prayer and preaching, continual watchings + and labours in his ministry, which, what a rich booty it would be, + what a plump endowment to the many-benefice-gaping mouth of a prelate, + what a relish it would give to his canary-sucking and swan-eating + palate, let old bishop Mountain judge for me.—They beseech us, that we + would think them fit to be our justices of peace, our lords, our + highest officers of state, though they come furnished with no more + knowledge than they learnt between the cook and the manciple, or more + profoundly at the college audit, or the regent house, or to come to + their deepest insight, at their patron’s table.’—MILTON: _Of + Reformation in England_. + +Footnote 64: + + ‘Much have those travellers to answer for, whose casual intercourse + with this innocent and simple people tends to corrupt them: + disseminating among them ideas of extravagance and dissipation—giving + them a taste for pleasures and gratifications of which they had no + ideas—inspiring them with discontent at home—and tainting their rough + industrious manners with idleness and a thirst after dishonest means. + + ‘If travellers would frequent this country with a view to examine its + grandeur and beauty, or to explore its varied and curious regions with + the eye of philosophy—if, in their passage through it, they could be + content with such fare as the country produces, or at least reconcile + themselves to it by manly exercise and fatigue (for there is a time + when the stomach and the plainest food will be found in perfect + harmony)—if they could thus, instead of corrupting the manners of an + innocent people, learn to amend their own, by seeing in how narrow a + compass the wants of human life may be compressed—a journey through + these wild scenes might be attended, perhaps, with more improvement + than a journey to Rome or Paris. Where manners are polished into + vicious refinement, simplifying is the best mode of improving; and the + example of innocence is a more instructive lesson than any that can be + taught by artists and literati. + + ‘But these parts are too often the resort of gay company, who are + under no impressions of this kind—who have no ideas but of extending + the sphere of their amusements, or of varying a life of dissipation. + The grandeur of the country is not taken into the question, or at + least it is not otherwise considered than as affording some new mode + of pleasurable enjoyment. Thus, even the diversions of Newmarket are + introduced—diversions, one would imagine, more foreign to the nature + of this country than any other. A number of horses are carried into + the middle of the lake in a flat boat: a plug is drawn from the + bottom: the boat sinks, and the horses are left floating on the + surface. In different directions they make to land, and the horse + which arrives soonest secures the prize.’—GILPIN’S _Picturesque + Observations on Cumberland and Westmoreland_, vol. ii. p. 67. + +Footnote 65: + + ‘The necessary consequence of men living in so unnatural a way with + respect to houses, clothes, and diet, and continuing to live so for + many generations, each generation adding to the vices, diseases, and + weaknesses produced by the unnatural life of the preceding, is, that + they must gradually decline in strength, health, and longevity, till + at length the race dies out. To deny this would be to deny that the + life allotted by nature to man is the best life for the preservation + of his health and strength; for, if it be so, I think it is + demonstration that the constant deviation from it, going on for many + centuries, must end in the extinction of the race.’—_Ancient + Metaphysics_, vol. v. p. 237. + +Footnote 66: + + ‘Rome, le siège de la gloire et de la vertu, si jamais elles en eurent + un sur la terre.’—ROUSSEAU. + +Footnote 67: + + ——extrema per illos + Justitia, excedens terris, vestigia fecit.—VIRG. + +Footnote 68: + + _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. v. book iv. chap. 8. + +Footnote 69: + + _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. v. book iv. chap. 8. + +Footnote 70: + + See _Xenophon’s Memorabilia_. + +Footnote 71: + + _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. v. book iv. chap. 8. + +Footnote 72: + + si tantum culti solus possederis agri, + quantum sub Tatio populus Romanus arabat.—JUV. + +Footnote 73: + + _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. v. book iv. chap. 8. + +Footnote 74: + + ‘Pochi compagni avrai per l’altra via: + Tanto ti prego più, gentile spirto, + Non lasciar la magnanima tua impresa.’—PETRARCA. + +Footnote 75: + + ‘If it were seriously asked (and it would be no untimely question), + who of all teachers and masters that have ever taught hath drawn the + most disciples after him, both in religion and in manners, it might be + not untruly answered, Custom. Though Virtue be commended for the most + persuasive in her theory, and Conscience in the plain demonstration of + the spirit finds most evincing; yet, whether it be the secret of + divine will, or the original blindness we are born in, so it happens + for the most part that Custom still is silently received for the best + instructor. Except it be because her method is so glib and easy, in + some manner like to that vision of Ezekiel, rolling up her sudden book + of implicit knowledge, for him that will to take and swallow down at + pleasure; which proving but of bad nourishment in the concoction, as + it was heedless in the devouring, puffs up unhealthily a certain big + face of pretended learning, mistaken among credulous men for the + wholesome habit of soundness and good constitution, but is, indeed, no + other than that swoln visage of counterfeit knowledge and literature + which not only in private mars our education, but also in public is + the common climber into every chair where either religion is preached + or law reported, filling each estate of life and profession with + abject and servile principles, depressing the high and heaven-born + spirit of man, far beneath the condition wherein either God created + him, or sin hath sunk him. To pursue the allegory, Custom being but a + mere face, as Echo is a mere voice, rests not in her unaccomplishment, + until by secret inclination she accorporate herself with Error, who + being a blind and serpentine body, without a head, willingly accepts + what he wants, and supplies what her incompleteness went seeking: + hence it is that Error supports Custom, Custom countenances Error, and + these two, between them, would persecute and chase away all truth and + solid wisdom out of human life, were it not that God, rather than man, + once in many ages calls together the prudent and religious counsels of + men deputed to repress the encroachments, and to work off the + inveterate blots and obscurities wrought upon our minds by the subtle + insinuating of Error and Custom, who, with the numerous and vulgar + train of their followers, make it their chief design to envy and cry + down the industry of free reasoning, under the terms of humour and + innovation, as if the womb of teeming Truth were to be closed up, if + she presume to bring forth aught that sorts not with their unchewed + notions and suppositions; against which notorious injury and abuse of + man’s free soul, to testify and oppose the utmost that study and true + labour can attain, heretofore the incitement of men reputed grave hath + led me among others, and now the duty and the right of an instructed + Christian calls me through the chance of good or evil report TO BE THE + SOLE ADVOCATE OF A DISCOUNTENANCED TRUTH.’—MILTON: _The Doctrine and + Discipline of Divorce_. + +Footnote 76: + + Ιλ. Ζ. 261. + +Footnote 77: + + The words in italics are Lord Monboddo’s: _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. + iii. preface, p. 79. + +Footnote 78: + + ῥιζῃ μεν μελαν ἐστι, γαλακτι δε εἰκελον ἀνθος, + ΜΩΛΥ δε μιν καλεουσι θεοι, χαλεπον δε τ’ ὀρυσσειν + θνητοις ἀνθρωποισι. + +Footnote 79: + + The reader who is desirous of elucidating the mysteries of the words + and phrases marked in italics in this chapter may consult the German + works of Professor Kant, or Professor Born’s Latin translation of + them, or M. Villar’s _Philosophie de Kant, ou Principes fondamentaux + de la Philosophie Transcendentale_; or the first article of the second + number of the _Edinburgh Review_, or the article ‘Kant,’ in the + _Encyclopaedia Londinensis_, or Sir William Drummond’s _Academical + Questions_, book ii. chap. 9. + +Footnote 80: + + Πρωτευς Ὀλβοδοτης, _Proteus the giver of riches_, certainly deserves a + place among the _Lares_ of every poetical and political turncoat. + +Footnote 81: + + See the Βατραχοι of Aristophanes. + +Footnote 82: + + informi limo glaucaque exponit in ulva. + +Footnote 83: + + _Coleridge’s Lay Sermon_, p. 10. + +Footnote 84: + + _Ibid._ + +Footnote 85: + + _Ibid._ p. 21. + +Footnote 86: + + _Ibid._ p. 25. + +Footnote 87: + + _Ibid._ p. 27. + +Footnote 88: + + _Ibid._ pp. 45, 46 (where the reader may find in a note the two worst + jokes that ever were cracked). + +Footnote 89: + + _Ibid._ p. 17. + +Footnote 90: + + ‘Some travellers speak of his strength as wonderful; greater they say, + than that of ten men such as we.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. + 105. + +Footnote 91: + + _Esquisse d’un Tableau historique des Progrès de l’Esprit humain._ + +Footnote 92: + + _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. 139. + +Footnote 93: + + _Ibid._ p. 193. + +Footnote 94: + + _Ibid._ p. 191. + +Footnote 95: + + _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. 181. + +Footnote 96: + + _Ibid._ p. 182. + +Footnote 97: + + Cottle’s Edda, or, as the author calls it, _Translation_ of the Edda, + which is a misnomer. + +Footnote 98: + + _Quarterly Review_, No. xxxi. p. 237. + +Footnote 99: + + _Ibid._ + +Footnote 100: + + _Ibid._ p. 252. + +Footnote 101: + + _Quarterly Review_, No. xxxi. p. 252. + +Footnote 102: + + _Ibid._ + +Footnote 103: + + _Quarterly Review_, No. xxxi. p. 226. + +Footnote 104: + + _Ibid._ + +Footnote 105: + + _Ibid._ p. 236. + +Footnote 106: + + _Ibid._ p. 226. + +Footnote 107: + + _Ibid._ p. 228. + +Footnote 108: + + _Ibid._ + +Footnote 109: + + _Quarterly Review_, No. xxxi. p. 273, _et passim_. + +Footnote 110: + + _Ibid._ p. 258. + +Footnote 111: + + _Ibid._ + +Footnote 112: + + _Quarterly Review_, No. xxxi. p. 249. It is curious, that in the + fourth article of the same number from which I have borrowed so many + exquisite passages, the reviewers are very angry that certain + ‘scandalous and immoral practices’ in the island of Wahoo are not + reformed: but certainly, according to the logic of these reviewers, + the Government of Wahoo is entitled to look upon _them_ in the light + of ‘ruffians, scoundrels, incendiaries, firebrands, madmen, and + villains’; since all these hard names belong of primary right to those + who propose the reformation of ‘scandalous and immoral practices’! The + people of Wahoo, it appears, are very much addicted to drunkenness and + debauchery; and the reviewers, in the plenitude of their wisdom, + recommend that a few clergymen should be sent out to them, by way of + mending their morals. It does not appear, whether King Tamaahmaah is a + king by _divine right_; but we must take it for granted that he is + not; as, otherwise, the _Quarterly Reviewers_ would either not admit + that there were any ‘scandalous and immoral practices’ under his + government, or, if they did admit them, they would not be such + ‘incendiaries, madmen, and villains,’ as to advocate their + reformation. There are some circumstances, however, which are + conclusive against the _legitimacy_ of King Tamaahmaah, which are + these: that he is a man of great ‘feeling, energy, and steadiness of + conduct’; that he ‘goes about among his people to learn their wants’; + and that he has ‘prevented the recurrence of those horrid murders’ + which disgraced the reigns of his predecessors: from which it is + obvious that he has neither put to death brave and generous men, who + surrendered themselves under the faith of treaties, nor re-established + a fallen Inquisition, nor sent those to whom he owed his crown to the + dungeon and the galleys. + + In the tenth article of the same number the reviewers pour forth the + bitterness of their gall against Mr. Warden of the Northumberland, who + has detected them in promulgating much gross and foolish falsehood + concerning the captive Napoleon. They labour most assiduously to + _impeach his veracity_ and to _discredit his judgment_. On the first + point, it is sufficient evidence of the truth of his statements, that + the _Quarterly Reviewers_ contradict them: but on the second, they + accuse him, among other misdemeanours, of having called their _Review_ + ‘_a respectable work_‘! which certainly _discredits his judgment_ + completely. + +Footnote 113: + + _Quarterly Review_, No. xxxi. p. 249. The reader will be reminded of + _Croaker_ in the fourth act of the _Good-natured Man_: ‘Blood and + gunpowder in every line of it. Blown up! murderous dogs! all blown up! + (_Reads._) “Our pockets are low, and money we must have.” Ay, there’s + the reason: they’ll blow us up _because they have got low pockets_.... + Perhaps this moment I’m treading on lighted matches, blazing + brimstone, and barrels of gunpowder. They are preparing to blow me up + into the clouds. Murder!... Here, John, Nicodemus, search the house. + Look into the cellars, to see if there be any combustibles below, and + above in the apartments, that no matches be thrown in at the windows. + _Let all the fires be put out_, and let the _engine_ be drawn out in + the yard, to _play upon the house_ in case of necessity.’—_Croaker_ + was a deep politician. The _engine_ to _play_ upon the _house_: mark + that! + +Footnote 114: + + This illustration of the old fable of the mouse and the mountain falls + short of an exhibition in the Honourable House, on the 29th of January + 1817; when Mr. Canning, amidst a tremendous denunciation of the + parliamentary reformers, and a rhetorical chaos of storms, whirlwinds, + rising suns, and twilight assassins, produced in proof of his + charges—_Spence’s Plan!_ which was received with an _éclat_ of + laughter on one side, and shrugs of surprise, disappointment, and + disapprobation on the other. I can find but one parallel for the Right + Honourable Gentleman’s dismay: + + So having said, awhile he stood, expecting + Their universal shout and high applause + To fill his ear; when contrary he hears + On all sides, from innumerable tongues, + A dismal universal hiss, the sound + Of public scorn.—_Paradise Lost_, x. 504. + + This Spencean chimaera, which is the very foolishness of folly, and + which was till lately invisible to the naked eye of the political + entomologist, has since been subjected to a _lens_ of _extraordinary + power_, under which, like an insect in a microscope, it has appeared a + formidable and complicated monster, all bristles, scales, and claws, + with a ‘husk about it like a chestnut’: _horridus, in jaculis et pelle + Libystidis ursae!_ + +Footnote 115: + + _Quarterly Review_, No. xxxi. p. 271. + +Footnote 116: + + _Ibid._ + +Footnote 117: + + _Ibid._ p. 258. + +Footnote 118: + + _Ibid._ + +Footnote 119: + + _Ibid._ p. 273. + +Footnote 120: + + _Quarterly Review_, No. xxxi. p. 276. + +Footnote 121: + + _Ibid._ p. 260. + +Footnote 122: + + _Ibid._ p. 192. + +Footnote 123: + + ‘To scatter praise or blame without regard to justice is to destroy + the distinction of good and evil. Many have no other test of actions + than general opinion; and all are so far influenced by a sense of + reputation, that they are often restrained by fear of reproach, and + excited by hope of honour, when other principles have lost their + power; nor can any species of prostitution promote general depravity + more, than that which destroys the force of praise by showing that it + may be acquired without deserving it, and which, by setting free the + active and ambitious from the dread of infamy, lets loose the rapacity + of power, and weakens the only authority by which greatness is + controlled. What credit can he expect who professes himself the + hireling of vanity however profligate, and without shame or scruple + celebrates the worthless, dignifies the mean, and gives to the + corrupt, licentious, and oppressive, the ornaments which ought only to + add grace to truth, and loveliness to innocence? EVERY OTHER KIND OF + ADULTERATION, HOWEVER SHAMEFUL, HOWEVER MISCHIEVOUS, IS LESS + DETESTABLE THAN THE CRIME OF COUNTERFEITING CHARACTERS, AND FIXING THE + STAMP OF LITERARY SANCTION UPON THE DROSS AND REFUSE OF THE + WORLD.’—_Rambler_, No. 136. + +Footnote 124: + + Deorum injurias diis curae.—_Tiberius apud Tacit. Ann. I._ 73. + +Footnote 125: + + ‘Besides all these evils of modern times which I have mentioned, there + is in some countries of Europe, and particularly in England, another + evil peculiar to civilised countries, but quite unknown in barbarous + nations. The evil I mean is _indigence_, and the reader will be + surprised when I tell him that it is _greatest in the richest + countries_; and, therefore, in England, which I believe is the richest + country in Europe, there is more indigence than in any other; for the + number of people that are there maintained on public or private + charity, and who may therefore be called _beggars_, is prodigious. + What proportion they may bear to the whole people, I have never heard + computed: but I am sure it must be very great. And I am afraid in + those countries they call rich, indigence is not confined to the lower + sort of people, but extends even to the better sort: for such is the + effect of wealth in a nation, that (however paradoxical it may appear) + it does at last make all men poor and indigent; the lower sort through + idleness and debauchery, the better sort through luxury, vanity, and + extravagant expense. Now, I would desire to know from the greatest + admirers of modern times, who maintain that the human race is not + degenerated, but rather improved, whether they know any other source + of human misery, besides vice, disease, and indigence, and whether + these three are not in the greatest abundance in the rich and + flourishing country of England? I would further ask these gentlemen, + whether, in the cities of the ancient world, there were poor’s houses, + hospitals, infirmaries, and those other receptacles of indigence and + disease which we see in the modern cities? And whether, in the streets + of ancient Athens and Rome, there were so many objects of disease, + deformity, and misery to be seen as in our streets, besides those + which are concealed from public view in the houses above mentioned? In + later times, indeed, in those cities, when the corruption of manners + was almost as great as among us, some such things might have been seen + as we are sure they were to be seen in Constantinople, under the later + Greek Emperors.’—_Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. 194. + +Footnote 126: + + ‘Omnia, quae nunc vetustissima creduntur, nova fuere. Inveterascet hoc + quoque: et, quod hodie exemplis tuemur, inter exempla erit.’—TACITUS, + _Ann. XI._ 24. + +Footnote 127: + + _Drummond’s Academical Questions._—Preface, p. 4. + +Footnote 128: + + _Ancient Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. 280. + +Footnote 129: + + _Malthus on Population_, book i. chap. vii. + +Footnote 130: + + Sophocles, Antigone, 850. (Ed. Erfurdt.) + +Footnote 131: + + ‘It is notorious, that towards one another the Indians are liberal in + the extreme, and for ever ready to supply the deficiencies of their + neighbours with any superfluities of their own. They have no idea of + amassing wealth for themselves individually; and they wonder that + persons can be found in any society so destitute of every generous + sentiment as to enrich themselves at the expense of others, and to + live in ease and affluence regardless of the misery and wretchedness + of members of the same community to which they themselves + belong.’—WELD’S _Travels in Canada; Letter XXXV._ + +Footnote 132: + + See the Edda and the Northern Antiquities. + +Footnote 133: + + ‘The civilised man will submit to the greatest pain and labour, in + order to excel in any exercise which is honourable; and this induces + me to believe that such a man as Achilles might have beat in running + even an oran outang, or the savage of the Pyrenees, whom nobody could + lay hold of, though that be the exercise in which savages excel the + most, and though I am persuaded that the oran outang of Angola is + naturally stronger and swifter of foot than Achilles was, or than even + the heroes of the preceding age, such as Hercules, and such as + Theseus, Pirithous, and others mentioned by Nestor.’—_Ancient + Metaphysics_, vol. iii. p. 76. + +Footnote 134: + + See Fletcher’s _Faithful Shepherdess_. The following extracts from the + Satyr’s speeches to Corin will explain the allusion in the text. + + But behold a fairer sight! + By that heavenly form of thine, + Brightest fair! thou art divine! + Sprung from great immortal race + Of the gods; for in thy face + Shines more awful majesty + Than dull weak mortality + Dare with misty eyes behold, + And live! Therefore on this mould + Lowly do I bend my knee, + In worship of thy deity. + _Act I. Scene I._ + + Brightest! if there be remaining + Any service, without feigning + I will do it: were I set + To catch the nimble wind, or get + Shadows gliding on the green, + Or to steal from the great queen + Of the fairies all her beauty, + I would do it, so much duty + Do I owe those precious eyes. + _Act IV. Scene II._ + + Thou divinest, fairest, brightest, + Thou most powerful maid, and whitest, + Thou most virtuous and most blessed, + Eyes of stars, and golden tressed + Like Apollo. Tell me, sweetest, + What new service now is meetest + For the Satyr? Shall I stray + In the middle air, and stay + The sailing rack? or nimbly take + Hold by the moon, and gently make + Suit to the pale queen of night + For a beam to give thee light? + Shall I dive into the sea, + And bring thee coral, making way + Through the rising waves that fall + In snowy fleeces? Dearest, shall + I catch thee wanton fauns, or flies + Whose woven wings the summer dyes + Of many colours? Get thee fruit? + Or steal from heaven old Orpheus’ lute? + All these I’ll venture for, and more, + To do her service all these woods adore. + _Act V. Scene V._ + +Footnote 135: + + ‘There are very few women who might not have married in some way or + other. The old maid, who has either never formed an attachment, or who + has been disappointed in the object of it, has, under the + circumstances in which she has been placed, conducted herself with the + most perfect propriety; and has acted a much more virtuous and + honourable part in society than those women who marry without a proper + degree of love, or at least of esteem, for their husbands; a species + of immorality which is not reprobated as it deserves.’—_Malthus on + Population_, book iv. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + MACMILLAN & CO.’S NEW NOVELS + + + Crown 8vo. 6s. each. + + _Second Edition now ready._ + + =THE COURTSHIP OF MORRICE BUCKLER.= By A. E. W. MASON. + + + _PUNCH._—“Readers will, unless gratitude be extinct, thank me for my + strong recommendation as to the excellent entertainment provided + for them in _The Courtship of Morrice Buckler_.” + + _GRAPHIC._—“A fine stirring narrative it is. 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Mr. Russell has made a considerable reputation in this line. +His plots are well conceived, and that of ‘Marooned’ is no exception to +this rule.” + + =Marooned.= + =A Strange Elopement.= + + + _By ARCHDEACON FARRAR._ + + =Seekers after God.= + =Eternal Hope.= + =The Fall of Man.= + =The Witness of History to Christ.= + =The Silence and Voices of God.= + =In the Days of thy Youth.= + =Saintly Workers.= + =Ephphatha.= + =Mercy and Judgment.= + =Sermons and Addresses in America.= + + + + + MACMILLAN’S THREE-AND-SIXPENNY SERIES. + + + Crown 8v. 3s. 6d. each volume. + + + _By CHARLES KINGSLEY._ + + =Westward Ho!= + =Hypatia.= + =Yeast.= + =Alton Locke.= + =Two Years Ago.= + =Hereward the Wake.= + =Poems.= + =The Heroes.= + =The Water Babies.= + =Madam How and Lady Why.= + =At Last.= + =Prose Idylls.= + =Plays and Puritans=, etc. + =The Roman and the Teuton.= + =Sanitary and Social Lectures and Essays.= + =Historical Lectures and Essays.= + =Scientific Lectures and Essays.= + =Literary and General Lectures.= + =The Hermits.= + =Glaucus: or the Wonders of The Seashore.= With Coloured Illustrations. + =Village and Town and Country Sermons.= + =The Water of Life, and other Sermons.= + =Sermons on National Subjects, and the King of the Earth.= + =Sermons for the Times.= + =Good News of God.= + =The Gospel of the Pentateuch, and David.= + =Discipline, and other Sermons.= + =Westminster Sermons.= + =All Saints’ Day, and other Sermons.= + + + _By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY._ + +_SPECTATOR._—“Mr. Christie Murray has more power and genius for the +delineation of English rustic life than any half-dozen of our surviving +novelists put together.” + +_SATURDAY REVIEW._—“Few modern novelists can tell a story of English +country life better than Mr. D. Christie Murray.” + + =Aunt Rachel.= + =John Vale’s Guardian.= + =Schwartz.= + =The Weaker Vessel.= + =He Fell among Thieves.= D. C. MURRAY and H. HERMAN. + + + _By Mrs. OLIPHANT._ + +_ACADEMY._—“At her best she is, with one or two exceptions, the best of +living English novelists.” + +_SATURDAY REVIEW._—“Has the charm of style, the literary quality and +flavour that never fails to please.” + + =A Beleaguered City.= + =Joyce.= + =Neighbours on the Green.= + =Kirsteen.= + =Hester.= + =Sir Tom.= + =A Country Gentleman and his Family.= + =The Curate in Charge.= + =The Second Son.= + =He that Will Not when He May.= + =The Railway Man and his Children.= + =The Marriage of Elinor.= + =The Heir Presumptive and the Heir-Apparent.= + =A Son of the Soil.= + =The Wizard’s Son.= + =Young Musgrave.= + =Lady William.= + + + _By J. H. SHORTHOUSE._ + + _ANTI-JACOBIN._—“Powerful, striking, and fascinating romances.” + + =John Inglesant.= + =Sir Percival.= + =The Little Schoolmaster Mark.= + =The Countess Eve.= + =A Teacher of the Violin.= + =Blanche, Lady Falaise.= + + + _By FREDERICK DENISON MAURICE._ + + =Sermons Preached in Lincoln’s Inn Chapel.= In 6 vols. + =Christmas Day, and Other Sermons.= + =Theological Essays.= + =Prophets and Kings.= + =Patriarchs and Lawgivers.= + =The Gospel of the Kingdom of Heaven.= + =Gospel of St. John.= + =Epistles of St. John.= + =Lectures on the Apocalypse.= + =Friendship of Books.= + =Social Morality.= + =Prayer Book and Lord’s Prayer.= + =The Doctrine of Sacrifice.= + =Acts of the Apostles.= + + Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each volume. + + + _By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE._ + + =The Heir of Redclyffe.= + =Heartsease.= + =Hopes and Fears.= + =Dynevor Terrace.= + =The Daisy Chain.= + =The Trial: More Links of the Daisy Chain.= + =Pillars of the House. Vol. I.= + =Pillars of the House. Vol. II.= + =The Young Stepmother.= + =The Clever Woman of the Family.= + =The Three Brides.= + =My Young Alcides.= + =The Caged Lion.= + =The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest.= + =The Chaplet of Pearls.= + =Lady Hester, and the Davers Papers.= + =Magnum Bonum.= + =Love and Life.= + =Unknown to History.= + =Stray Pearls.= + =The Armourer’s ‘Prentices.= + =The Two Sides of the Shield.= + =Nuttie’s Father.= + =Scenes and Characters.= + =Chantry House.= + =A Modern Telemachus.= + =Bye-Words.= + =Beechcroft at Rockstone.= + =More Bywords.= + =A Reputed Changeling.= + =The Little Duke.= + =The Lances of Lynwood.= + =The Prince and the Page.= + =P’s and Q’s, and Little Lucy’s Wonderful Globe.= + =Two Penniless Princesses.= + =That Stick.= + =An Old Woman’s Outlook.= + =Grisly Grisell.= + + + _By VARIOUS WRITERS._ + + SIR S. W. BAKER.—=True Tales for My Grandsons.= + R. BLENNERHASSETT AND L. SLEEMAN.—=Adventures in Mashonaland.= + FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.—=Louisiana and That Lass O’ Lowrie’s.= + Sir MORTIMER DURAND, K.C.I.E.—=Helen Treveryan.= + =‘English Men of Letters’ Series.= In 13 Monthly Volumes, each Volume + containing three books. + LANOE FALCONER.—=Cecilia de Noël.= + ARCHIBALD FORBES.—=Barracks, Bivouacs, and Battles.—Souvenirs of Some + Continents.= + W. FORBES-MITCHELL.—=Reminiscences of the Great Mutiny, 1857–59.= + W. W. FOWLER.—=Tales of the Birds.= Illustrated by BRYAN HOOK. =A Year + with the Birds.= Illustrated by BRYAN HOOK. + Rev. J. GILMORE.—=Storm Warriors.= + P. KENNEDY.—=Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts.= + HENRY KINGSLEY.—=Tales of Old Travel.= + MARGARET LEE.—=Faithful and Unfaithful.= + AMY LEVY.—=Reuben Sachs.= + S. R. LYSAGHT.—=The Marplot.= + LORD LYTTON.—=The Ring of Amasis.= + M. M’LENNAN.—=Muckle Jock, and other Stories of Peasant Life.= + LUCAS MALET.—=Mrs. Lorimer.= + GUSTAVE MASSON.—=A French Dictionary.= + A. B. MITFORD.—=Tales of Old Japan.= + MAJOR G. PARRY.—=The Story of Dick.= + E. C. PRICE.—=In the Lion’s Mouth.= + W. C. RHOADES.—=John Trevennick.= + THE WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE. Vol. I. =Comedies.= Vol. II. =Histories.= Vol. + III. =Tragedies.= 3 vols. + FLORA A. STEEL.—=Miss Stuart’s Legacy.=—=The Flower of Forgiveness.= + MARCHESA THEODOLI.—=Under Pressure.= + “TIMES” Summaries.—=Biographies of Eminent Persons.= In 4 vols.—=Annual + Summaries.= In 2 vols. + Mrs. HUMPHRY WARD.—=Miss Bretherton.= + MONTAGU WILLIAMS, Q.C.—=Leaves of a Life.=—=Later Leaves.=—=Round + London: Down East, and Up West.= + =Hogan, M.P.=—=Tim.=—=The New Antigone.= + + + MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last + chapter. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + ● Enclosed bold or blackletter font in =equals=. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75943 *** |