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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Crotchet Castle, by Thomas Love Peacock,
+Edited by Henry Morley
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions 
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at 
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: Crotchet Castle
+
+
+Author: Thomas Love Peacock
+
+Editor: Henry Morley
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2014  [eBook #2075]
+[This file was first posted on 20 June 1999]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROTCHET CASTLE***
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@pglaf.org
+
+                       CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+
+                             CROTCHET CASTLE
+
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                    BY
+                           THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK.
+
+                      [Picture: Decorative graphic]
+
+                       CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited:
+                _LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_.
+                                  1887.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK was born at Weymouth in 1785.  His first poem, “The
+Genius of the Thames,” was in its second edition when he became one of
+the friends of Shelley.  That was in 1812, when Shelley’s age was twenty,
+Peacock’s twenty-seven.  The acquaintance strengthened, until Peacock
+became the friend in whose judgment Shelley put especial trust.  There
+were many points of agreement.  Peacock, at that time, shared, in a more
+practical way, Shelley’s desire for root and branch reform; both wore
+poets, although not equally gifted, and both loved Plato and the Greek
+tragedians.  In “Crotchet Castle” Peacock has expressed his own delight
+in Greek literature through the talk of the Reverend Dr. Folliott.
+
+But Shelley’s friendship for Peacock included a trust in him that was
+maintained by points of unlikeness.  Peacock was shrewd and witty.  He
+delighted in extravagance of a satire which usually said more than it
+meant, but always rested upon a foundation of good sense.  Then also
+there was a touch of the poet to give grace to the utterances of a
+clear-headed man of the world.  It was Peacock who gave its name to
+Shelley’s poem of “Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude,” published in
+1816.  The “Spirit of Solitude” being treated as a spirit of evil,
+Peacock suggested calling it “Alastor,” since the Greek ἀλάστωρ means an
+evil genius.
+
+Peacock’s novels are unlike those of other men: they are the genuine
+expressions of an original and independent mind.  His reading and his
+thinking ran together; there is free quotation, free play of wit and
+satire, grace of invention too, but always unconventional.  The story is
+always pleasant, although always secondary to the play of thought for
+which it gives occasion.  He quarrelled with verse, whimsically but in
+all seriousness, in an article on “The Four Ages of Poetry,” contributed
+in 1820 to a short-lived journal, “Ollier’s Literary Miscellany.”  The
+four ages were, he said, the iron age, the Bardic; the golden, the
+Homeric; the silver, the Virgilian; and the brass, in which he himself
+lived.  “A poet in our time,” he said, “is a semi-barbarian in a
+civilised community . . . The highest inspirations of poetry are
+resolvable into three ingredients: the rant of unregulated passion, the
+whining of exaggerated feeling, and the cant of factitious sentiment; and
+can, therefore, serve only to ripen a splendid lunatic like Alexander, a
+puling driveller like Werter, or a morbid dreamer like Wordsworth.”  In
+another part of this essay he says: “While the historian and the
+philosopher are advancing in and accelerating the progress of knowledge,
+the poet is wallowing in the rubbish of departed ignorance, and raking up
+the ashes of dead savages to find gewgaws and rattles for the grown
+babies of the age.  Mr. Scott digs up the poacher and cattle-stealers of
+the ancient Border.  Lord Byron cruises for thieves and pirates on the
+shores of the Morea and among the Greek islands.  Mr. Southey wades
+through ponderous volumes of travels and old chronicles, from which he
+carefully selects all that is false, useless, and absurd, as being
+essentially poetical; and when he has a commonplace book full of
+monstrosities, strings them into an epic.”  And so forth; Peacock going
+on to characterise, in further illustration of his argument, Wordsworth,
+Coleridge, Moore, and Campbell.  He did not refer to Shelley; and Shelley
+read his friend’s whimsical attack on poetry with all good humour,
+proceeding to reply to it with a “Defence of Poetry,” which would have
+appeared in the same journal, if the journal had survived.  In this novel
+of “Crotchet Castle” there is the same good-humoured exaggeration in the
+treatment of “our learned friend”—Lord Brougham—to whom and to whose
+labours for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge there are repeated
+allusions.  In one case Peacock associates the labours of “our learned
+friend” for the general instruction of the masses with encouragement of
+robbery (page 172), and in another with body-snatching, or, worse,—murder
+for dissection (page 99).  “The Lord deliver me from the learned friend!”
+says Dr. Folliott.  Brougham’s elevation to a peerage in November, 1830,
+as Lord Brougham and Vaux, is referred to on page 177, where he is called
+Sir Guy do Vaux.  It is not to be forgotten, in the reading, that this
+story was written in 1831, the year before the passing of the Reform
+Bill.  It ends with a scene suggested by the agricultural riots of that
+time.  In the ninth chapter, again, there is a passage dealing with Sir
+Walter Scott after the fashion of the criticisms in the “Four Ages of
+Poetry.”  But this critical satire gave nobody pain.  Always there was a
+ground-work of good sense, and the broad sweep of the satire was utterly
+unlike the nibbling censure of the men whose wit is tainted with
+ill-humour.  We may see also that the poet’s nature cannot be expelled.
+In this volume we should find the touch of a poet’s hand in the tale
+itself when dealing with the adventures of Mr. Chainmail, while he stays
+at the Welsh mountain inn, if the story did not again and again break out
+into actual song, for it includes half-a-dozen little poems.
+
+When Peacock wrote his attack on Poetry, he had, only two years before,
+produced a poem of his own—“Rhododaphne”—with a Greek fancy of the true
+and the false love daintily worked out.  It was his chief work in verse,
+and gave much pleasure to a few, among them his friend Shelley.  But he
+felt that, as the world went, he was not strong enough to help it by his
+singing, so he confined his writing to the novels, in which he could
+speak his mind in his own way, while doing his duty by his country in the
+East India House, where he obtained a post in 1818.  From 1836 to 1856,
+when he retired on a pension, he was Examiner of India Correspondence.
+Peacock died in 1866, aged eighty-one.
+
+                                                                     H. M.
+
+NOTE that in this tale Mac Quedy is Mac Q. E. D., son of a demonstration;
+Mr. Skionar, the transcendentalist, is named from Ski(as) onar, the dream
+of a shadow; and Mr. Philpot,—who loves rivers, is Phil(o)pot(amos).
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+THE VILLA.
+
+
+    _Captain Jamy_.  I wad full fain hear some question ’tween you tway.
+
+                                                                  HENRY V.
+
+IN one of those beautiful valleys, through which the Thames (not yet
+polluted by the tide, the scouring of cities, or even the minor
+defilement of the sandy streams of Surrey) rolls a clear flood through
+flowery meadows, under the shade of old beech woods, and the smooth mossy
+greensward of the chalk hills (which pour into it their tributary
+rivulets, as pure and pellucid as the fountain of Bandusium, or the wells
+of Scamander, by which the wives and daughters of the Trojans washed
+their splendid garments in the days of peace, before the coming of the
+Greeks); in one of those beautiful valleys, on a bold round-surfaced
+lawn, spotted with juniper, that opened itself in the bosom of an old
+wood, which rose with a steep, but not precipitous ascent, from the river
+to the summit of the hill, stood the castellated villa of a retired
+citizen.  Ebenezer Mac Crotchet, Esquire, was the London-born offspring
+of a worthy native of the “north countrie,” who had walked up to London
+on a commercial adventure, with all his surplus capital, not very neatly
+tied up in a not very clean handkerchief, suspended over his shoulder
+from the end of a hooked stick, extracted from the first hedge on his
+pilgrimage; and who, after having worked himself a step or two up the
+ladder of life, had won the virgin heart of the only daughter of a highly
+respectable merchant of Duke’s Place, with whom he inherited the honest
+fruits of a long series of ingenuous dealings.
+
+Mr. Mac Crotchet had derived from his mother the instinct, and from his
+father the rational principle, of enriching himself at the expense of the
+rest of mankind, by all the recognised modes of accumulation on the windy
+side of the law.  After passing many years in the Alley, watching the
+turn of the market, and playing many games almost as desperate as that of
+the soldier of Lucullus, the fear of losing what he had so righteously
+gained predominated over the sacred thirst of paper-money; his caution
+got the better of his instinct, or rather transferred it from the
+department of acquisition to that of conservation.  His friend, Mr.
+Ramsbottom, the zodiacal mythologist, told him that he had done well to
+withdraw from the region of Uranus or Brahma, the Maker, to that of
+Saturn or Veeshnu, the Preserver, before he fell under the eye of Jupiter
+or Seva, the Destroyer, who might have struck him down at a blow.
+
+It is said that a Scotchman, returning home after some years’ residence
+in England, being asked what he thought of the English, answered: “They
+hanna ower muckle sense, but they are an unco braw people to live amang;”
+which would be a very good story, if it were not rendered apocryphal by
+the incredible circumstance of the Scotchman going back.
+
+Mr. Mac Crotchet’s experience had given him a just title to make, in his
+own person, the last-quoted observation, but he would have known better
+than to go back, even if himself, and not his father, had been the first
+comer of his line from the north.  He had married an English Christian,
+and, having none of the Scotch accent, was ungracious enough to be
+ashamed of his blood.  He was desirous to obliterate alike the Hebrew and
+Caledonian vestiges in his name, and signed himself E. M. Crotchet, which
+by degrees induced the majority of his neighbours to think that his name
+was Edward Matthew.  The more effectually to sink the Mac, he christened
+his villa “Crotchet Castle,” and determined to hand down to posterity the
+honours of Crotchet of Crotchet.  He found it essential to his dignity to
+furnish himself with a coat of arms, which, after the proper ceremonies
+(payment being the principal), he obtained, videlicet: Crest, a crotchet
+rampant, in A sharp; Arms, three empty bladders, turgescent, to show how
+opinions are formed; three bags of gold, pendent, to show why they are
+maintained; three naked swords, tranchant, to show how they are
+administered; and three barbers’ blocks, gaspant, to show how they are
+swallowed.
+
+Mr. Crotchet was left a widower, with two children; and, after the death
+of his wife, so strong was his sense of the blessed comfort she had been
+to him, that he determined never to give any other woman an opportunity
+of obliterating the happy recollection.
+
+He was not without a plausible pretence for styling his villa a castle,
+for, in its immediate vicinity, and within his own enclosed domain, were
+the manifest traces, on the brow of the hill, of a Roman station, or
+_castellum_, which was still called the “Castle” by the country people.
+The primitive mounds and trenches, merely overgrown with greensward, with
+a few patches of juniper and box on the vallum, and a solitary ancient
+beech surmounting the place of the prætorium, presented nearly the same
+depths, heights, slopes, and forms, which the Roman soldiers had
+originally given them.  From this  castellum Mr. Crotchet christened his
+villa.  With his rustic neighbours he was, of course, immediately and
+necessarily a squire: Squire Crotchet of the Castle; and he seemed to
+himself to settle down as naturally into an English country gentleman, as
+if his parentage had been as innocent of both Scotland and Jerusalem, as
+his education was of Rome and Athens.
+
+But as, though you expel nature with a pitch-fork, she will yet always
+come back; he could not become, like a true-born English squire, part and
+parcel of the barley-giving earth; he could not find in game-bagging,
+poacher-shooting, trespasser-pounding, footpath-stopping,
+common-enclosing, rack-renting, and all the other liberal pursuits and
+pastimes which make a country gentleman an ornament to the world and a
+blessing to the poor: he could not find in these valuable and amiable
+occupations, and in a corresponding range of ideas, nearly commensurate
+with that of the great King Nebuchadnezzar when he was turned out to
+grass; he could not find in this great variety of useful action, and vast
+field of comprehensive thought, modes of filling up his time that
+accorded with his Caledonian instinct.  The inborn love of disputation,
+which the excitements and engagements of a life of business had
+smothered, burst forth through the calmer surface of a rural life.  He
+grew as fain as Captain Jamy, “to hear some argument betwixt ony tway,”
+and being very hospitable in his establishment, and liberal in his
+invitations, a numerous detachment from the advanced guard of the “march
+of intellect,” often marched down to Crotchet Castle.
+
+When the fashionable season filled London with exhibitors of all
+descriptions, lecturers and else, Mr. Crotchet was in his glory; for, in
+addition to the perennial literati of the metropolis, he had the
+advantage of the visits of a number of hardy annuals, chiefly from the
+north, who, as the interval of their metropolitan flowering allowed,
+occasionally accompanied their London brethren in excursions to Crotchet
+Castle.
+
+Amongst other things, he took very naturally to political economy, read
+all the books on the subject which were put forth by his own countrymen,
+attended all lectures thereon, and boxed the technology of the sublime
+science as expertly as an able seaman boxes the compass.
+
+With this agreeable mania he had the satisfaction of biting his son, the
+hope of his name and race, who had borne off from Oxford the highest
+academical honours; and who, treading in his father’s footsteps to honour
+and fortune, had, by means of a portion of the old gentleman’s surplus
+capital, made himself a junior partner in the eminent loan-jobbing firm
+of Catchflat and Company.  Here, in the days of paper prosperity, he
+applied his science-illumined genius to the blowing of bubbles, the
+bursting of which sent many a poor devil to the gaol, the workhouse, or
+the bottom of the river, but left young Crotchet rolling in riches.
+
+These riches he had been on the point of doubling, by a marriage with the
+daughter of Mr. Touchandgo, the great banker, when, one foggy morning,
+Mr. Touchandgo and the contents of his till were suddenly reported
+absent; and as the fortune which the young gentleman had intended to
+marry was not forthcoming, this tender affair of the heart was nipped in
+the bud.
+
+Miss Touchandgo did not meet the shock of separation quite so
+complacently as the young gentleman: for he lost only the lady, whereas
+she lost a fortune as well as a lover.  Some jewels, which had glittered
+on her beautiful person as brilliantly as the bubble of her father’s
+wealth had done in the eyes of his gudgeons, furnished her with a small
+portion of paper-currency; and this, added to the contents of a fairy
+purse of gold, which she found in her shoe on the eventful morning when
+Mr. Touchandgo melted into thin air, enabled her to retreat into North
+Wales, where she took up her lodging in a farm-house in Merionethshire,
+and boarded very comfortably for a trifling payment, and the additional
+consideration of teaching English, French, and music, to the little
+Ap-Llymrys.  In the course of this occupation she acquired sufficient
+knowledge of Welsh to converse with the country people.
+
+She climbed the mountains, and descended the dingles, with a foot which
+daily habit made by degrees almost as steady as a native’s.  She became
+the nymph of the scene; and if she sometimes pined in thought for her
+faithless Strephon, her melancholy was anything but green and yellow: it
+was as genuine white and red as occupation, mountain air, thyme-fed
+mutton, thick cream, and fat bacon could make it: to say nothing of an
+occasional glass of double X, which Ap-Llymry, who yielded to no man west
+of the Wrekin in brewage, never failed to press upon her at dinner and
+supper.  He was also earnest, and sometimes successful, in the
+recommendation of his mead, and most pertinacious on winter nights in
+enforcing a trial of the virtues of his elder wine.  The young lady’s
+personal appearance, consequently, formed a very advantageous contrast to
+that of her quondam lover, whose physiognomy the intense anxieties of his
+bubble-blowing days, notwithstanding their triumphant result, had left
+blighted, sallowed, and crow’s-footed, to a degree not far below that of
+the fallen spirit who, in the expressive language of German romance, is
+described as “scathed by the ineradicable traces of the thunderbolts of
+Heaven;” so that, contemplating their relative geological positions, the
+poor deserted damsel was flourishing on slate, while her rich and false
+young knight was pining on chalk.
+
+Squire Crotchet had also one daughter, whom he had christened Lemma, and
+who, as likely to be endowed with a very ample fortune was, of course, an
+object very tempting to many young soldiers of fortune, who were marching
+with the march of mind, in a good condition for taking castles, as far as
+not having a groat is a qualification for such exploits.  She was also a
+glittering bait to divers young squires expectant (whose fathers were too
+well acquainted with the occult signification of mortgage), and even to
+one or two sprigs of nobility, who thought that the lining of a civic
+purse would superinduce a very passable factitious nap upon a thread-bare
+title.  The young lady had received an expensive and complicated
+education, complete in all the elements of superficial display.  She was
+thus eminently qualified to be the companion of any masculine luminary
+who had kept due pace with the “astounding progress” of intelligence.  It
+must be confessed, that a man who has not kept due pace with it, is not
+very easily found: this march being one of that “astounding” character in
+which it seems impossible that the rear can be behind the van.  The young
+lady was also tolerably good looking: north of Tweed, or in Palestine,
+she would probable have been a beauty; but for the valleys of the Thames
+she was perhaps a little too much to the taste of Solomon, and had a nose
+which rather too prominently suggested the idea of the tower of Lebanon,
+which looked towards Damascus.
+
+In a village in the vicinity of the Castle was the vicarage of the
+Reverend Doctor Folliott, a gentleman endowed with a tolerable stock of
+learning, an interminable swallow, and an indefatigable pair of lungs.
+His pre-eminence in the latter faculty gave occasion to some etymologists
+to ring changes on his name, and to decide that it was derived from
+Follis Optimus, softened through an Italian medium into Folle Ottimo,
+contracted poetically into Folleotto, and elided Anglicé into Folliott,
+signifying a first-rate pair of bellows.  He claimed to be descended
+lineally from the illustrious Gilbert Folliott, the eminent theologian,
+who was a Bishop of London in the twelfth century, whose studies were
+interrupted in the dead of night by the Devil, when a couple of epigrams
+passed between them, and the Devil, of course, proved the smaller wit of
+the two.
+
+This reverend gentleman, being both learned and jolly, became by degrees
+an indispensable ornament to the new squire’s table.  Mr. Crotchet
+himself was eminently jolly, though by no means eminently learned.  In
+the latter respect he took after the great majority of the sons of his
+father’s land; had a smattering of many things, and a knowledge of none;
+but possessed the true northern art of making the most of his
+intellectual harlequin’s jacket, by keeping the best patches always
+bright and prominent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+THE MARCH OF MIND.
+
+
+    Quoth Ralpho: nothing but the abuse
+    Of human learning you produce.—BUTLER.
+
+“GOD bless my soul, sir!” exclaimed the Reverend Doctor Folliott,
+bursting, one fine May morning, into the breakfast-room at Crotchet
+Castle, “I am out of all patience with this march of mind.  Here has my
+house been nearly burned down by my cook taking it into her head to study
+hydrostatics in a sixpenny tract, published by the Steam Intellect
+Society, and written by a learned friend who is for doing all the world’s
+business as well as his own, and is equally well qualified to handle
+every branch of human knowledge.  I have a great abomination of this
+learned friend; as author, lawyer, and politician, he is _triformis_,
+like Hecate; and in every one of his three forms he is _bifrons_, like
+Janus; the true Mr. Facing-both-ways of Vanity Fair.  My cook must read
+his rubbish in bed; and, as might naturally be expected, she dropped
+suddenly fast asleep, overturned the candle, and set the curtains in a
+blaze.  Luckily, the footman went into the room at the moment, in time to
+tear down the curtains and throw them into the chimney, and a pitcher of
+water on her nightcap extinguished her wick; she is a greasy subject, and
+would have burned like a short mould.”
+
+The reverend gentleman exhaled his grievance without looking to the right
+or to the left; at length, turning on his pivot, he perceived that the
+room was full of company, consisting of young Crotchet, and some visitors
+whom he had brought from London.  The Reverend Doctor Folliott was
+introduced to Mr. Mac Quedy, the economist; Mr. Skionar, the
+transcendental poet; Mr. Firedamp, the meteorologist; and Lord Bossnowl,
+son of the Earl of Foolincourt, and member for the borough of
+Rogueingrain.
+
+The divine took his seat at the breakfast-table, and began to compose his
+spirits by the gentle sedative of a large cup of tea, the demulcent of a
+well-buttered muffin, and the tonic of a small lobster.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—You are a man of taste, Mr. Crotchet.  A man of
+taste is seen at once in the array of his breakfast-table.  It is the
+foot of Hercules, the far-shining face of the great work, according to
+Pindar’s doctrine: ἀρχομένου ἔργου πρόςωπον χρὴ θέμεν πηλαυγές.  The
+breakfast is the πρόςωπον of the great work of the day.  Chocolate,
+coffee, tea, cream, eggs, ham, tongue, cold fowl, all these are good, and
+bespeak good knowledge in him who sets them forth: but the touchstone is
+fish: anchovy is the first step, prawns and shrimps the second; and I
+laud him who reaches even to these: potted char and lampreys are the
+third, and a fine stretch of progression; but lobster is, indeed, matter
+for a May morning, and demands a rare combination of knowledge and virtue
+in him who sets it forth.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, sir, and what say you to a fine fresh trout, hot
+and dry, in a napkin? or a herring out of the water into the frying-pan,
+on the shore of Loch Fyne?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, I say every nation has some eximious
+virtue; and your country is pre-eminent in the glory of fish for
+breakfast.  We have much to learn from you in that line at any rate.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—And in many others, sir, I believe.  Morals and
+metaphysics, politics and political economy, the way to make the most of
+all the modifications of smoke; steam, gas, and paper currency; you have
+all these to learn from us; in short, all the arts and sciences.  We are
+the modern Athenians.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I, for one, sir, am content to learn nothing
+from you but the art and science of fish for breakfast.  Be content, sir,
+to rival the Boeotians, whose redeeming virtue was in fish, touching
+which point you may consult Aristophanes and his scholiast in the passage
+of Lysistrata, ἀλλ’ ἄφελε τὰς ἐγχέλεις, and leave the name of Athenians
+to those who have a sense of the beautiful, and a perception of metrical
+quantity.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Then, sir, I presume you set no value on the right
+principles of rent, profit, wages, and currency?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—My principles, sir, in these things are, to take
+as much as I can get, and pay no more than I can help.  These are every
+man’s principles, whether they be the right principles or no.  There,
+sir, is political economy in a nutshell.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—The principles, sir, which regulate production and
+consumption are independent of the will of any individual as to giving or
+taking, and do not lie in a nutshell by any means.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, I will thank you for a leg of that capon.
+
+_Lord Bossnowl_.—But, sir, by-the-bye, how came your footman to be going
+into your cook’s room?  It was very providential to be sure, but—
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, as good came of it, I shut my eyes, and ask
+no questions.  I suppose he was going to study hydrostatics, and he found
+himself under the necessity of practising hydraulics.
+
+_Mr. Firedamp_.—Sir, you seem to make very light of science.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Yes, sir, such science as the learned friend
+deals in: everything for everybody, science for all, schools for all,
+rhetoric for all, law for all, physic for all, words for all, and sense
+for none.  I say, sir, law for lawyers, and cookery for cooks: and I wish
+the learned friend, for all his life, a cook that will pass her time in
+studying his works; then every dinner he sits down to at home, he will
+sit on the stool of repentance.
+
+_Lord Bossnowl_.—Now really that would be too severe: my cook should read
+nothing but Ude.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No, sir! let Ude and the learned friend singe
+fowls together; let both avaunt from my kitchen.  Θύρας δ’ ἐπίθεσθε
+βεβήλοις.  Ude says an elegant supper may be given with sandwiches.
+_Horresco referens_.  An elegant supper.  _Dî meliora piis_.  No Ude for
+me.  Conviviality went out with punch and suppers.  I cherish their
+memory.  I sup when I can, but not upon sandwiches.  To offer me a
+sandwich, when I am looking for a supper, is to add insult to injury.
+Let the learned friend, and the modern Athenians, sup upon sandwiches.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Nay, sir; the modern Athenians know better than that.  A
+literary supper in sweet Edinbro’ would cure you of the prejudice you
+seem to cherish against us.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Well, sir, well; there is cogency in a good
+supper; a good supper in these degenerate days bespeaks a good man; but
+much more is wanted to make up an Athenian.  Athenians, indeed! where is
+your theatre? who among you has written a comedy? where is your Attic
+salt? which of you can tell who was Jupiter’s great-grandfather? or what
+metres will successively remain, if you take off the three first
+syllables, one by one, from a pure antispastic acatalectic tetrameter?
+Now, sir, there are three questions for you: theatrical, mythological,
+and metrical; to every one of which an Athenian would give an answer that
+would lay me prostrate in my own nothingness.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, sir, as to your metre and your mythology, they may
+e’en wait a wee.  For your comedy there is the “Gentle Shepherd” of the
+divine Allan Ramsay.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—The “Gentle Shepherd”!  It is just as much a
+comedy as the Book of Job.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, sir, if none of us have written a comedy, I cannot
+see that it is any such great matter, any more than I can conjecture what
+business a man can have at this time of day with Jupiter’s
+great-grandfather.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—The great business is, sir, that you call
+yourselves Athenians, while you know nothing that the Athenians thought
+worth knowing, and dare not show your noses before the civilised world in
+the practice of any one art in which they were excellent.  Modern Athens,
+sir! the assumption is a personal affront to every man who has a
+Sophocles in his library.  I will thank you for an anchovy.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Metaphysics, sir; metaphysics.  Logic and moral
+philosophy.  There we are at home.  The Athenians only sought the way,
+and we have found it; and to all this we have added political economy,
+the science of sciences.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—A hyperbarbarous technology, that no Athenian
+ear could have borne.  Premises assumed without evidence, or in spite of
+it; and conclusions drawn from them so logically, that they must
+necessarily be erroneous.
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—I cannot agree with you, Mr. Mac Quedy, that you have
+found the true road of metaphysics, which the Athenians only sought.  The
+Germans have found it, sir: the sublime Kant and his disciples.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—I have read the sublime Kant, sir, with an anxious
+desire to understand him, and I confess I have not succeeded.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—He wants the two great requisites of head and
+tail.
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—Transcendentalism is the philosophy of intuition, the
+development of universal convictions; truths which are inherent in the
+organisation of mind, which cannot be obliterated, though they may be
+obscured, by superstitious prejudice on the one hand, and by the
+Aristotelian logic on the other.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, sir, I have no notion of logic obscuring a
+question.
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—There is only one true logic, which is the transcendental;
+and this can prove only the one true philosophy, which is also the
+transcendental.  The logic of your Modern Athens can prove everything
+equally; and that is, in my opinion, tantamount to proving nothing at
+all.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—The sentimental against the rational, the intuitive
+against the inductive, the ornamental against the useful, the intense
+against the tranquil, the romantic against the classical; these are great
+and interesting controversies, which I should like, before I die, to see
+satisfactorily settled.
+
+_Mr. Firedamp_.—There is another great question, greater than all these,
+seeing that it is necessary to be alive in order to settle any question;
+and this is the question of water against human life.  Wherever there is
+water, there is malaria, and wherever there is malaria, there are the
+elements of death.  The great object of a wise man should be to live on a
+gravelly hill, without so much as a duck-pond within ten miles of him,
+eschewing cisterns and waterbutts, and taking care that there be no
+gravel-pits for lodging the rain.  The sun sucks up infection from water,
+wherever it exists on the face of the earth.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Well, sir, you have for you the authority of the
+ancient mystagogue, who said: ’Εστιν ὔδωρ ψυχῇ θάνατος.  For my part I
+care not a rush (or any other aquatic and inesculent vegetable) who or
+what sucks up either the water or the infection.  I think the proximity
+of wine a matter of much more importance than the longinquity of water.
+You are here within a quarter of a mile of the Thames, but in the cellar
+of my friend, Mr. Crotchet, there is the talismanic antidote of a
+thousand dozen of old wine; a beautiful spectacle, I assure you, and a
+model of arrangement.
+
+_Mr. Firedamp_.—Sir, I feel the malignant influence of the river in every
+part of my system.  Nothing but my great friendship for Mr. Crotchet
+would have brought me so nearly within the jaws of the lion.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—After dinner, sir, after dinner, I will meet you
+on this question.  I shall then be armed for the strife.  You may fight
+like Hercules against Achelous, but I shall flourish the Bacchic thyrsus,
+which changed rivers into wine: as Nonnus sweetly sings, Οίνω κυματόεντι
+μέλας κελάρυζεν Υδάςπης.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_, _jun._—I hope, Mr. Firedamp, you will let your friendship
+carry you a little closer into the jaws of the lion.  I am fitting up a
+flotilla of pleasure-boats, with spacious cabins, and a good cellar, to
+carry a choice philosophical party up the Thames and Severn, into the
+Ellesmere canal, where we shall be among the mountains of North Wales;
+which we may climb or not, as we think proper; but we will, at any rate,
+keep our floating hotel well provisioned, and we will try to settle all
+the questions over which a shadow of doubt yet hangs in the world of
+philosophy.
+
+_Mr. Firedamp_.—Out of my great friendship for you, I will certainly go;
+but I do not expect to survive the experiment.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—_Alter erit tum Tiphys_, _et altera quæ vehat
+Argo Delectos Heroas_.  I will be of the party, though I must hire an
+officiating curate, and deprive poor dear Mrs. Folliott, for several
+weeks, of the pleasure of combing my wig.
+
+_Lord Bossnowl_.—I hope, if I am to be of the party, our ship is not to
+be the ship of fools: He! he!
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—If you are one of the party, sir, it most
+assuredly will not: Ha! ha!
+
+_Lord Bossnowl_.—Pray sir, what do you mean by Ha! ha!?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Precisely, sir, what you mean by He! he!
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—You need not dispute about terms; they are two modes of
+expressing merriment, with or without reason; reason being in no way
+essential to mirth.  No man should ask another why he laughs, or at what,
+seeing that he does not always know, and that, if he does, he is not a
+responsible agent.  Laughter is an involuntary action of certain muscles,
+developed in the human species by the progress of civilisation.  The
+savage never laughs.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No, sir, he has nothing to laugh at.  Give him
+Modern Athens, the “learned friend,” and the Steam Intellect Society.
+They will develop his muscles.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+THE ROMAN CAMP.
+
+
+    He loved her more then seven yere,
+    Yet was he of her love never the nere;
+    He was not ryche of golde and fe,
+    A gentyll man forsoth was he.
+
+                                                _The Squyr of Lowe Degre_.
+
+THE Reverend Doctor Folliott having promised to return to dinner, walked
+back to his vicarage, meditating whether he should pass the morning in
+writing his next sermon, or in angling for trout, and had nearly decided
+in favour of the latter proposition, repeating to himself, with great
+unction, the lines of Chaucer:
+
+    And as for me, though that I can but lite,
+    On bokis for to read I me delite,
+    And to ’hem yeve I faithe and full credence,
+    And in mine herte have ’hem in reverence,
+    So hertily, that there is gamé none,
+    That fro my bokis makith me to gone,
+    But it be seldome, on the holie daie;
+    Save certainly whan that the month of Maie
+    Is cousin, and I here the foulis sing,
+    And that the flouris ginnin for to spring,
+    Farwell my boke and my devocion:
+
+when his attention was attracted by a young gentleman who was sitting on
+a camp stool with a portfolio on his knee, taking a sketch of the Roman
+Camp, which, as has been already said, was within the enclosed domain of
+Mr. Crotchet.  The young stranger, who had climbed over the fence,
+espying the portly divine, rose up, and hoped that he was not
+trespassing.  “By no means, sir,” said the divine, “all the arts and
+sciences are welcome here; music, painting, and poetry; hydrostatics and
+political economy; meteorology, transcendentalism, and fish for
+breakfast.”
+
+_The Stranger_.—A pleasant association, sir, and a liberal and
+discriminating hospitality.  This is an old British camp, I believe, sir?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Roman, sir; Roman; undeniably Roman.  The vallum
+is past controversy.  It was not a camp, sir, a _castrum_, but a
+_castellum_, a little camp, or watch-station, to which was attached, on
+the peak of the adjacent hill, a beacon for transmitting alarms.  You
+will find such here and there, all along the range of chalk hills, which
+traverses the country from north-east to south-west, and along the base
+of which runs the ancient Iknield road, whereof you may descry a portion
+in that long straight white line.
+
+_The Stranger_.—I beg your pardon, sir; do I understand this place to be
+your property?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—It is not mine, sir: the more is the pity; yet
+is it so far well, that the owner is my good friend, and a highly
+respectable gentleman.
+
+_The Stranger_.—Good and respectable, sir, I take it, means rich?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—That is their meaning, sir.
+
+_The Stranger_.—I understand the owner to be a Mr. Crotchet.  He has a
+handsome daughter, I am told.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—He has, sir.  Her eyes are like the fish-pools
+of Heshbon, by the gate of Bethrabbim; and she is to have a handsome
+fortune, to which divers disinterested gentlemen are paying their
+addresses.  Perhaps you design to be one of them?
+
+_The Stranger_.—No, sir; I beg pardon if my questions seem impertinent; I
+have no such design.  There is a son too, I believe, sir, a great and
+successful blower of bubbles?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—A hero, sir, in his line.  Never did angler in
+September hook more gudgeons.
+
+_The Stranger_.—To say the truth, two very amiable young people, with
+whom I have some little acquaintance, Lord Bossnowl, and his sister, Lady
+Clarinda, are reported to be on the point of concluding a double marriage
+with Miss Crotchet and her brother; by way of putting a new varnish on
+old nobility.  Lord Foolincourt, their father, is terribly poor for a
+lord who owns a borough.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Well, sir, the Crotchets have plenty of money,
+and the old gentleman’s weak point is a hankering after high blood.  I
+saw your acquaintance, Lord Bossnowl, this morning, but I did not see his
+sister.  She may be there, nevertheless, and doing fashionable justice to
+this fine May morning, by lying in bed till noon.
+
+_The Stranger_.—Young Mr. Crotchet, sir, has been, like his father, the
+architect of his own fortune, has he not?  An illustrious example of the
+reward of honesty and industry?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—As to honesty, sir, he made his fortune in the
+city of London, and if that commodity be of any value there, you will
+find it in the price current.  I believe it is below par, like the shares
+of young Crotchet’s fifty companies.  But his progress has not been
+exactly like his father’s.  It has been more rapid, and he started with
+more advantages.  He began with a fine capital from his father.  The old
+gentleman divided his fortune into three not exactly equal portions; one
+for himself, one for his daughter, and one for his son, which he handed
+over to him, saying, “Take it once for all, and make the most of it; if
+you lose it where I won it, not another stiver do you get from me during
+my life.”  But, sir, young Crotchet doubled, and trebled, and quadrupled
+it, and is, as you say, a striking example of the reward of industry; not
+that I think his labour has been so great as his luck.
+
+_The Stranger_.—But, sir, is all this solid? is there no danger of
+reaction? no day of reckoning to cut down in an hour prosperity that has
+grown up like a mushroom?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Nay, sir, I know not.  I do not pry into these
+matters.  I am, for my own part, very well satisfied with the young
+gentleman.  Let those who are not so look to themselves.  It is quite
+enough for me that he came down last night from London, and that he had
+the good sense to bring with him a basket of lobsters.  Sir, I wish you a
+good morning.
+
+The stranger having returned the reverend gentleman’s good morning,
+resumed his sketch, and was intently employed on it when Mr. Crotchet
+made his appearance with Mr. Mac Quedy and Mr. Skionar, whom he was
+escorting round his grounds, according to his custom with new visitors;
+the principal pleasure of possessing an extensive domain being that of
+showing it to other people.  Mr. Mac Quedy, according also to the
+laudable custom of his countrymen, had been appraising everything that
+fell under his observation; but, on arriving at the Roman camp, of which
+the value was purely imaginary, he contented himself with exclaiming:
+“Eh! this is just a curiosity, and very pleasant to sit in on a summer
+day.”
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—And call up the days of old, when the Roman eagle spread
+its wings in the place of that beechen foliage.  It gives a fine idea of
+duration, to think that that fine old tree must have sprung from the
+earth ages after this camp was formed.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—How old, think you, may the tree be?
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—I have records which show it to be three hundred years
+old.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—That is a great age for a beech in good condition.  But
+you see the camp is some fifteen hundred years, or so, older; and three
+times six being eighteen, I think you get a clearer idea of duration out
+of the simple arithmetic, than out of your eagle and foliage.
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—That is a very unpoetical, if not unphilosophical, mode of
+viewing antiquities.  Your philosophy is too literal for our imperfect
+vision.  We cannot look directly into the nature of things; we can only
+catch glimpses of the mighty shadow in the camera obscura of
+transcendental intelligence.  These six and eighteen are only words to
+which we give conventional meanings.  We can reason, but we cannot feel,
+by help of them.  The tree and the eagle, contemplated in the ideality of
+space and time, become subjective realities, that rise up as landmarks in
+the mystery of the past.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, sir, if you understand that, I wish you joy.  But
+I must be excused for holding that my proposition, three times six are
+eighteen, is more intelligible than yours.  A worthy friend of mine, who
+is a sort of amateur in philosophy, criticism, politics, and a wee bit of
+many things more, says: “Men never begin to study antiquities till they
+are saturated with civilisation.”
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—What is civilisation?
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—It is just respect for property.  A state in which no
+man takes wrongfully what belongs to another, is a perfectly civilised
+state.
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—Your friend’s antiquaries must have lived in El Dorado, to
+have had an opportunity of being saturated with such a state.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—It is a question of degree.  There is more respect for
+property here than in Angola.
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—That depends on the light in which things are viewed.
+
+Mr. Crotchet was rubbing his hands, in hopes of a fine discussion, when
+they came round to the side of the camp where the picturesque gentleman
+was sketching.  The stranger was rising up, when Mr. Crotchet begged him
+not to disturb himself, and presently walked away with his two guests.
+
+Shortly after, Miss Crotchet and Lady Clarinda, who had breakfasted by
+themselves, made their appearance at the same spot, hanging each on an
+arm of Lord Bossnowl, who very much preferred their company to that of
+the philosophers, though he would have preferred the company of the
+latter, or any company to his own.  He thought it very singular that so
+agreeable a person as he held himself to be to others, should be so
+exceedingly tiresome to himself: he did not attempt to investigate the
+cause of this phenomenon, but was contented with acting on his knowledge
+of the fact, and giving himself as little of his own private society as
+possible.
+
+The stranger rose as they approached, and was immediately recognised by
+the Bossnowls as an old acquaintance, and saluted with the exclamation of
+“Captain Fitzchrome!”  The interchange of salutations between Lady
+Clarinda and the Captain was accompanied with an amiable confusion on
+both sides, in which the observant eyes of Miss Crotchet seemed to read
+the recollection of an affair of the heart.
+
+Lord Bossnowl was either unconscious of any such affair, or indifferent
+to its existence.  He introduced the Captain very cordially to Miss
+Crotchet; and the young lady invited him, as the friend of their guests,
+to partake of her father’s hospitality, an offer which was readily
+accepted.
+
+The Captain took his portfolio under his right arm, his camp stool in his
+right hand, offered his left arm to Lady Clarinda, and followed at a
+reasonable distance behind Miss Crotchet and Lord Bossnowl, contriving,
+in the most natural manner possible, to drop more and more into the rear.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—I am glad to see you can make yourself so happy with
+drawing old trees and mounds of grass.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Happy, Lady Clarinda! oh, no!  How can I be happy
+when I see the idol of my heart about to be sacrificed on the shrine of
+Mammon?
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Do you know, though Mammon has a sort of ill name, I
+really think he is a very popular character; there must be at the bottom
+something amiable about him.  He is certainly one of those pleasant
+creatures whom everybody abuses, but without whom no evening party is
+endurable.  I dare say, love in a cottage is very pleasant; but then it
+positively must be a cottage ornée: but would not the same love be a
+great deal safer in a castle, even if Mammon furnished the fortification?
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Oh, Lady Clarinda! there is a heartlessness in that
+language that chills me to the soul.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Heartlessness!  No: my heart is on my lips.  I speak
+just what I think.  You used to like it, and say it was as delightful as
+it was rare.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—True, but you did not then talk as you do now, of
+love in a castle.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Well, but only consider: a dun is a horridly vulgar
+creature; it is a creature I cannot endure the thought of: and a cottage
+lets him in so easily.  Now a castle keeps him at bay.  You are a
+half-pay officer, and are at leisure to command the garrison: but where
+is the castle? and who is to furnish the commissariat?
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Is it come to this, that you make a jest of my
+poverty?  Yet is my poverty only comparative.  Many decent families are
+maintained on smaller means.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Decent families: ay, decent is the distinction from
+respectable.  Respectable means rich, and decent means poor.  I should
+die if I heard my family called decent.  And then your decent family
+always lives in a snug little place: I hate a little place; I like large
+rooms and large looking-glasses, and large parties, and a fine large
+butler, with a tinge of smooth red in his face; an outward and visible
+sign that the family he serves is respectable; if not noble, highly
+respectable.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—I cannot believe that you say all this in earnest.
+No man is less disposed than I am to deny the importance of the
+substantial comforts of life.  I once flattered myself that in our
+estimate of these things we were nearly of a mind.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Do you know, I think an opera-box a very substantial
+comfort, and a carriage.  You will tell me that many decent people walk
+arm-in-arm through the snow, and sit in clogs and bonnets in the pit at
+the English theatre.  No doubt it is very pleasant to those who are used
+to it; but it is not to my taste.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—You always delighted in trying to provoke me; but I
+cannot believe that you have not a heart.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—You do not like to believe that I have a heart, you
+mean.  You wish to think I have lost it, and you know to whom; and when I
+tell you that it is still safe in my own keeping, and that I do not mean
+to give it away, the unreasonable creature grows angry.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Angry! far from it; I am perfectly cool.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Why, you are pursing your brows, biting your lips, and
+lifting up your foot as if you would stamp it into the earth.  I must say
+anger becomes you; you would make a charming Hotspur.  Your
+every-day-dining-out face is rather insipid: but I assure you my heart is
+in danger when you are in the heroics.  It is so rare, too, in these days
+of smooth manners, to see anything like natural expression in a man’s
+face.  There is one set form for every man’s face in female society: a
+sort of serious comedy walking gentleman’s face: but the moment the
+creature falls in love he begins to give himself airs, and plays off all
+the varieties of his physiognomy from the Master Slender to the
+Petruchio; and then he is actually very amusing.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Well, Lady Clarinda, I will not be angry, amusing
+as it may be to you: I listen more in sorrow than in anger.  I half
+believe you in earnest: and mourn as over a fallen angel.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—What, because I have made up my mind not to give away my
+heart when I can sell it?  I will introduce you to my new acquaintance,
+Mr. Mac Quedy: he will talk to you by the hour about exchangeable value,
+and show you that no rational being will part with anything, except to
+the highest bidder.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Now, I am sure you are not in earnest.  You cannot
+adopt such sentiments in their naked deformity.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Naked deformity!  Why, Mr. Mac Quedy will prove to you
+that they are the cream of the most refined philosophy.  You live a very
+pleasant life as a bachelor, roving about the country with your portfolio
+under your arm.  I am not fit to be a poor man’s wife.  I cannot take any
+kind of trouble, or do any one thing that is of any use.  Many decent
+families roast a bit of mutton on a string; but if I displease my father
+I shall not have as much as will buy the string, to say nothing of the
+meat; and the bare idea of such cookery gives me the horrors.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+By this time they were near the Castle, and met Miss Crotchet and her
+companion, who had turned back to meet them.  Captain Fitzchrome was
+shortly after heartily welcomed by Mr. Crotchet, and the party separated
+to dress for dinner, the Captain being by no means in an enviable state
+of mind, and full of misgivings as to the extent of belief that he was
+bound to accord to the words of the lady of his heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+THE PARTY.
+
+
+    En quoi cognoissez-vous la folie anticque?  En quoi cognoissez-vous
+    la sagesse présente?—RABELAIS.
+
+“IF I were sketching a bandit who had just shot his last pursuer, having
+outrun all the rest, that is the very face I would give him,”
+soliloquised the Captain, as he studied the features of his rival in the
+drawing-room, during the miserable half-hour before dinner, when dulness
+reigns predominant over expectant company, especially when they are
+waiting for some one last comer, whom they all heartily curse in their
+hearts, and whom, nevertheless, or indeed therefore-the-more, they
+welcome as a sinner, more heartily than all the just persons who had been
+punctual to their engagement.  Some new visitors had arrived in the
+morning, and, as the company dropped in one by one, the Captain anxiously
+watched the unclosing door for the form of his beloved: but she was the
+last to make her appearance, and on her entry gave him a malicious
+glance, which he construed into a telegraphic communication that she had
+stayed away to torment him.  Young Crotchet escorted her with marked
+attention to the upper end of the drawing-room, where a great portion of
+the company was congregated around Miss Crotchet.  These being the only
+ladies in the company, it was evident that old Mr. Crotchet would give
+his arm to Lady Clarinda, an arrangement with which the Captain could not
+interfere.  He therefore took his station near the door, studying his
+rival from a distance, and determined to take advantage of his present
+position, to secure the seat next to his charmer.  He was meditating on
+the best mode of operation for securing this important post with due
+regard to _bien-séance_, when he was twitched by the button by Mr. Mac
+Quedy, who said to him: “Lady Clarinda tells me, sir, that you are
+anxious to talk with me on the subject of exchangeable value, from which
+I infer that you have studied political economy, and as a great deal
+depends on the definition of value, I shall be glad to set you right on
+that point.”  “I am much obliged to you, sir,” said the Captain, and was
+about to express his utter disqualification for the proposed instruction,
+when Mr. Skionar walked up and said: “Lady Clarinda informs me that you
+wish to talk over with me the question of subjective reality.  I am
+delighted to fall in with a gentleman who daily appreciates the
+transcendental philosophy.”  “Lady Clarinda is too good,” said the
+Captain; and was about to protest that he had never heard the word
+“transcendental” before, when the butler announced dinner.  Mr. Crotchet
+led the way with Lady Clarinda: Lord Bossnowl followed with Miss
+Crotchet: the economist and transcendentalist pinned in the Captain, and
+held him, one by each arm, as he impatiently descended the stairs in the
+rear of several others of the company, whom they had forced him to let
+pass; but the moment he entered the dining-room he broke loose from them,
+and at the expense of a little _brusquerie_, secured his position.
+
+“Well, Captain,” said Lady Clarinda, “I perceive you can still manœuvre.”
+
+“What could possess you,” said the Captain, “to send two unendurable and
+inconceivable bores to intercept me with rubbish about which I neither
+know nor care any more than the man in the moon?”
+
+“Perhaps,” said Lady Clarinda, “I saw your design, and wished to put your
+generalship to the test.  But do not contradict anything I have said
+about you, and see if the learned will find you out.”
+
+“There is fine music, as Rabelais observes, in the _cliquetis
+d’asssiettes_, a refreshing shade in the _ombre de salle à manger_, and
+an elegant fragrance in the _fumée de rôti_,” said a voice at the
+Captain’s elbow.  The Captain turning round, recognised his clerical
+friend of the morning, who knew him again immediately, and said he was
+extremely glad to meet him there; more especially as Lady Clarinda had
+assured him that he was an enthusiastic lover of Greek poetry.
+
+“Lady Clarinda,” said the Captain, “is a very pleasant young lady.”
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—So she is, sir: and I understand she has all the
+wit of the family to herself, whatever that _totum_ may be.  But a glass
+of wine after soup is, as the French say, the _verre de santé_.  The
+current of opinion sets in favour of Hock: but I am for Madeira; I do not
+fancy Hock till I have laid a substratum of Madeira.  Will you join me?
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—With pleasure.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Here is a very fine salmon before me: and May is
+the very _point nommé_ to have salmon in perfection.  There is a fine
+turbot close by, and there is much to be said in his behalf: but salmon
+in May is the king of fish.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—That salmon before you, doctor, was caught in the Thames,
+this morning.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Παπαπαῖ!  Rarity of rarities!  A Thames salmon
+caught this morning.  Now, Mr. Mac Quedy, even in fish your Modern Athens
+must yield.  _Cedite Graii_.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Eh! sir, on its own around, your Thames salmon has two
+virtues over all others; first, that it is fresh; and, second, that it is
+rare; for I understand you do not take half a dozen in a year.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—In some years, sir, not one.  Mud, filth,
+gas-dregs, lock-weirs, and the march of mind, developed in the form of
+poaching, have ruined the fishery.  But, when we do catch a salmon, happy
+the man to whom he falls.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—I confess, sir, this is excellent: but I cannot see why
+it should be better than a Tweed salmon at Kelso.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, I will take a glass of Hock with you.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—With all my heart, sir.  There are several varieties of
+the salmon genus: but the common salmon, the _salmo salar_, is only one
+species, one and the same everywhere, just like the human mind.  Locality
+and education make all the difference.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Education!  Well, sir, I have no doubt schools
+for all are just as fit for the species _salmo salar_ as for the genus
+_homo_.  But you must allow that the specimen before us has finished his
+education in a manner that does honour to his college.  However, I doubt
+that the _salmo salar_ is only one species, that is to say, precisely
+alike in all localities.  I hold that every river has its own breed, with
+essential differences; in flavour especially.  And as for the human mind,
+I deny that it is the same in all men.  I hold that there is every
+variety of natural capacity from the idiot to Newton and Shakespeare; the
+mass of mankind, midway between these extremes, being blockheads of
+different degrees; education leaving them pretty nearly as it found them,
+with this single difference, that it gives a fixed direction to their
+stupidity, a sort of incurable wry neck to the thing they call their
+understanding.  So one nose points always east, and another always west,
+and each is ready to swear that it points due north.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—If that be the point of truth, very few intellectual
+noses point due north.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Only those that point to the Modern Athens.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Where all native noses point southward.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Eh, sir, northward for wisdom, and southward for profit.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_, _jun._  Champagne, doctor?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Most willingly.  But you will permit my drinking
+it while it sparkles.  I hold it a heresy to let it deaden in my hand,
+while the glass of my _compotator_ is being filled on the opposite side
+of the table.  By-the-bye, Captain, you remember a passage in Athenæus,
+where he cites Menander on the subject of fish-sauce: ὀψάριον ἐπὶ ἰχθύος.
+(The Captain was aghast for an answer that would satisfy both his
+neighbours, when he was relieved by the divine continuing.)  The science
+of fish-sauce, Mr. Mac Quedy, is by no means brought to perfection; a
+fine field of discovery still lies open in that line.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Nay, sir, beyond lobster-sauce, I take it, ye cannot go.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—In their line, I grant you, oyster and
+lobster-sauce are the pillars of Hercules.  But I speak of the cruet
+sauces, where the quintessence of the sapid is condensed in a phial.  I
+can taste in my mind’s palate a combination, which, if I could give it
+reality, I would christen with the name of my college, and hand it down
+to posterity as a seat of learning indeed.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, sir, I wish you success, but I cannot let slip the
+question we started just now.  I say, cutting off idiots, who have no
+minds at all, all minds are by nature alike.  Education (which begins
+from their birth) makes them what they are.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No, sir, it makes their tendencies, not their
+power.  Cæsar would have been the first wrestler on the village common.
+Education might have made him a Nadir Shah; it might also have made him a
+Washington; it could not have made him a merry-andrew, for our newspapers
+to extol as a model of eloquence.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Now, sir, I think education would have made him just
+anything, and fit for any station, from the throne to the stocks; saint
+or sinner, aristocrat or democrat, judge, counsel, or prisoner at the
+bar.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I will thank you for a slice of lamb, with lemon
+and pepper.  Before I proceed with this discussion,—Vin de Grave, Mr.
+Skionar,—I must interpose one remark.  There is a set of persons in your
+city, Mr. Mac Quedy, who concoct, every three or four months, a thing,
+which they call a review: a sort of sugar-plum manufacturers to the Whig
+aristocracy.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—I cannot tell, sir, exactly, what you mean by that; but
+I hope you will speak of those gentlemen with respect, seeing that I am
+one of them.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, I must drown my inadvertence in a glass of
+Sauterne with you.  There is a set of gentlemen in your city—
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Not in our city, exactly; neither are they a set.  There
+is an editor, who forages for articles in all quarters, from John o’
+Groat’s house to the Land’s End.  It is not a board, or a society: it is
+a mere intellectual bazaar, where A, B, and C, bring their wares to
+market.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Well, sir, these gentlemen among them, the
+present company excepted, have practised as much dishonesty as, in any
+other department than literature, would have brought the practitioner
+under the cognisance of the police.  In politics, they have ran with the
+hare and hunted with the hound.  In criticism, they have, knowingly and
+unblushingly, given false characters, both for good and for evil;
+sticking at no art of misrepresentation, to clear out of the field of
+literature all who stood in the way of the interests of their own clique.
+They have never allowed their own profound ignorance of anything (Greek
+for instance) to throw even an air of hesitation into their oracular
+decision on the matter.  They set an example of profligate contempt for
+truth, of which the success was in proportion to the effrontery; and when
+their prosperity had filled the market with competitors, they cried out
+against their own reflected sin, as if they had never committed it, or
+were entitled to a monopoly of it.  The latter, I rather think, was what
+they wanted.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Hermitage, doctor?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Nothing better, sir.  The father who first chose
+the solitude of that vineyard, knew well how to cultivate his spirit in
+retirement.  Now, Mr. Mac Quedy, Achilles was distinguished above all the
+Greeks for his inflexible love of truth; could education have made
+Achilles one of your reviewers?
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—No doubt of it, even if your character of them were true
+to the letter.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—And I say, sir—chicken and asparagus—Titan had
+made him of better clay.  I hold with Pindar, “All that is most excellent
+is so by nature.”  Τὸ δὲ φυᾷ κράτιστον ἅπαν.  Education can give
+purposes, but not powers; and whatever purposes had been given him, he
+would have gone straight forward to them; straight forward, Mr. Mac
+Quedy.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—No, sir, education makes the man, powers, purposes, and
+all.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—There is the point, sir, on which we join issue.
+
+Several others of the company now chimed in with their opinions, which
+gave the divine an opportunity to degustate one or two side dishes, and
+to take a glass of wine with each of the young ladies.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+CHARACTERS.
+
+
+    Ay imputé a honte plus que médiocre être vu spectateur ocieux de tant
+    vaillans, disertz, et chevalereux personnaiges.
+
+                                                                 RABELAIS.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_ (_to the Captain_).—I declare the creature has been
+listening to all this rigmarole, instead of attending to me.  Do you ever
+expect forgiveness?  But now that they are all talking together, and you
+cannot make out a word they say, nor they hear a word that we say, I will
+describe the company to you.  First, there is the old gentleman on my
+left hand, at the head of the table, who is now leaning the other way to
+talk to my brother.  He is a good-tempered, half-informed person, very
+unreasonably fond of reasoning, and of reasoning people; people that talk
+nonsense logically: he is fond of disputation himself, when there are
+only one or two, but seldom does more than listen in a large company of
+_illuminés_.  He made a great fortune in the city, and has the comfort of
+a good conscience.  He is very hospitable, and is generous in dinners;
+though nothing would induce him to give sixpence to the poor, because he
+holds that all misfortune is from imprudence, that none but the rich
+ought to marry, and that all ought to thrive by honest industry, as he
+did.  He is ambitious of founding a family, and of allying himself with
+nobility; and is thus as willing as other grown children to throw away
+thousands for a gew-gaw, though he would not part with a penny for
+charity.  Next to him is my brother, whom you know as well as I do.  He
+has finished his education with credit, and as he never ventures to
+oppose me in anything, I have no doubt he is very sensible.  He has good
+manners, is a model of dress, and is reckoned ornamental in all
+societies.  Next to him is Miss Crotchet, my sister-in-law that is to be.
+You see she is rather pretty, and very genteel.  She is tolerably
+accomplished, has her table always covered with new novels, thinks Mr.
+Mac Quedy an oracle, and is extremely desirous to be called “my lady.”
+Next to her is Mr. Firedamp, a very absurd person, who thinks that water
+is the evil principle.  Next to him is Mr. Eavesdrop, a man who, by dint
+of a certain something like smartness, has got into good society.  He is
+a sort of bookseller’s tool, and coins all his acquaintance in
+reminiscences and sketches of character.  I am very shy of him, for fear
+he should print me.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—If he print you in your own likeness, which is that
+of an angel, you need not fear him.  If he print you in any other, I will
+cut his throat.  But proceed—
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Next to him is Mr. Henbane, the toxicologist, I think he
+calls himself.  He has passed half his life in studying poisons and
+antidotes.  The first thing he did on his arrival here was to kill the
+cat; and while Miss Crotchet was crying over her, he brought her to life
+again.  I am more shy of him than the other.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—They are two very dangerous fellows, and I shall
+take care to keep them both at a respectful distance.  Let us hope that
+Eavesdrop will sketch off Henbane, and that Henbane will poison him for
+his trouble.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Well, next to him sits Mr. Mac Quedy, the Modern
+Athenian, who lays down the law about everything, and therefore may be
+taken to understand everything.  He turns all the affairs of this world
+into questions of buying and selling.  He is the Spirit of the Frozen
+Ocean to everything like romance and sentiment.  He condenses their
+volume of steam into a drop of cold water in a moment.  He has satisfied
+me that I am a commodity in the market, and that I ought to set myself at
+a high price.  So you see, he who would have me must bid for me.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—I shall discuss that point with Mr. Mac Quedy.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Not a word for your life.  Our flirtation is our own
+secret.  Let it remain so.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Flirtation, Clarinda!  Is that all that the most
+ardent—
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Now, don’t be rhapsodical here.  Next to Mr. Mac Quedy
+is Mr. Skionar, a sort of poetical philosopher, a curious compound of the
+intense and the mystical.  He abominates all the ideas of Mr. Mac Quedy,
+and settles everything by sentiment and intuition.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Then, I say, he is the wiser man.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—They are two oddities, but a little of them is amusing,
+and I like to hear them dispute.  So you see I am in training for a
+philosopher myself.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Any philosophy, for Heaven’s sake, but the
+pound-shilling-and-pence philosophy of Mr. Mac Quedy.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Why, they say that even Mr. Skionar, though he is a
+great dreamer, always dreams with his eyes open, or with one eye at any
+rate, which is an eye to his gain: but I believe that in this respect the
+poor man has got an ill name by keeping bad company.  He has two dear
+friends, Mr. Wilful Wontsee, and Mr. Rumblesack Shantsee, poets of some
+note, who used to see visions of Utopia, and pure republics beyond the
+Western deep: but, finding that these El Dorados brought them no revenue,
+they turned their vision-seeing faculty into the more profitable channel
+of espying all sorts of virtues in the high and the mighty, who were able
+and willing to pay for the discovery.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—I do not fancy these virtue-spyers.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Next to Mr. Skionar sits Mr. Chainmail, a good-looking
+young gentleman, as you see, with very antiquated tastes.  He is fond of
+old poetry, and is something of a poet himself.  He is deep in monkish
+literature, and holds that the best state of society was that of the
+twelfth century, when nothing was going forward but fighting, feasting,
+and praying, which he says are the three great purposes for which man was
+made.  He laments bitterly over the inventions of gunpowder, steam, and
+gas, which he says have ruined the world.  He lives within two or three
+miles, and has a large hall, adorned with rusty pikes, shields, helmets,
+swords, and tattered banners, and furnished with yew-tree chairs, and two
+long old worm-eaten oak tables, where he dines with all his household,
+after the fashion of his favourite age.  He wants us all to dine with
+him, and I believe we shall go.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—That will be something new, at any rate.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Next to him is Mr. Toogood, the co-operationist, who
+will have neither fighting nor praying; but wants to parcel out the world
+into squares like a chess-board, with a community on each, raising
+everything for one another, with a great steam-engine to serve them in
+common for tailor and hosier, kitchen and cook.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—He is the strangest of the set, so far.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—This brings us to the bottom of the table, where sits my
+humble servant, Mr. Crotchet the younger.  I ought not to describe him.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—I entreat you do.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Well, I really have very little to say in his favour.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—I do not wish to hear anything in his favour; and I
+rejoice to hear you say so, because—
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Do not flatter yourself.  If I take him, it will be to
+please my father, and to have a town and country house, and plenty of
+servants and a carriage and an opera-box, and make some of my
+acquaintance who have married for love, or for rank, or for anything but
+money, die for envy of my jewels.  You do not think I would take him for
+himself.  Why, he is very smooth and spruce as far as his dress goes; but
+as to his face, he looks as if he had tumbled headlong into a volcano,
+and been thrown up again among the cinders.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—I cannot believe, that, speaking thus of him, you
+mean to take him at all.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Oh! I am out of my teens.  I have been very much in
+love; but now I am come to years of discretion, and must think, like
+other people, of settling myself advantageously.  He was in love with a
+banker’s daughter, and cast her off at her father’s bankruptcy, and the
+poor girl has gone to hide herself in some wild place.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—She must have a strange taste, if she pines for the
+loss of him.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—They say he was good-looking, till his bubble schemes,
+as they call them, stamped him with the physiognomy of a desperate
+gambler.  I suspect he has still a penchant towards his first flame.  If
+he takes me, it will be for my rank and connection, and the second seat
+of the borough of Rogueingrain.  So we shall meet on equal terms, and
+shall enjoy all the blessedness of expecting nothing from each other.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—You can expect no security with such an adventurer.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—I shall have the security of a good settlement, and then
+if _andare al diavolo_ be his destiny, he may go, you know, by himself.
+He is almost always dreaming and _distrait_.  It is very likely that some
+great reverse is in store for him: but that will not concern me, you
+perceive.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—You torture me, Clarinda, with the bare
+possibility.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Hush!  Here is music to soothe your troubled spirit.
+Next to him, on this side, sits the dilettante composer, Mr. Trillo; they
+say his name was O’Trill, and he has taken the O from the beginning, and
+put it at the end.  I do not know how this may be.  He plays well on the
+violoncello, and better on the piano; sings agreeably; has a talent at
+versemaking, and improvises a song with some felicity.  He is very
+agreeable company in the evening, with his instruments and music-books.
+He maintains that the sole end of all enlightened society is to get up a
+good opera, and laments that wealth, genius, and energy are squandered
+upon other pursuits, to the neglect of this one great matter.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—That is a very pleasant fancy at any rate.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—I assure you he has a great deal to say for it.  Well,
+next to him, again, is Dr. Morbific, who has been all over the world to
+prove that there is no such thing as contagion; and has inoculated
+himself with plague, yellow fever, and every variety of pestilence, and
+is still alive to tell the story.  I am very shy of him, too; for I look
+on him as a walking phial of wrath, corked full of all infections, and
+not to be touched without extreme hazard.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—This is the strangest fellow of all.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Next to him sits Mr. Philpot, the geographer, who thinks
+of nothing but the heads and tails of rivers, and lays down the streams
+of Terra Incognita as accurately as if he had been there.  He is a person
+of pleasant fancy, and makes a sort of fairy land of every country he
+touches, from the Frozen Ocean to the Deserts of Sahara.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—How does he settle matters with Mr. Firedamp?
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—You see Mr. Firedamp has got as far as possible out of
+his way.  Next to him is Sir Simon Steeltrap, of Steeltrap Lodge, Member
+for Crouching-Curtown, Justice of Peace for the county, and Lord of the
+United Manors of Spring-gun-and-Treadmill; a great preserver of game and
+public morals.  By administering the laws which he assists in making, he
+disposes, at his pleasure, of the land and its live stock, including all
+the two-legged varieties, with and without feathers, in a circumference
+of several miles round Steeltrap Lodge.  He has enclosed commons and
+woodlands; abolished cottage gardens; taken the village cricket-ground
+into his own park, out of pure regard to the sanctity of Sunday; shut up
+footpaths and alehouses (all but those which belong to his electioneering
+friend, Mr. Quassia, the brewer); put down fairs and fiddlers; committed
+many poachers; shot a few; convicted one-third of the peasantry;
+suspected the rest; and passed nearly the whole of them through a
+wholesome course of prison discipline, which has finished their education
+at the expense of the county.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—He is somewhat out of his element here: among such
+a diversity of opinions he will hear some he will not like.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—It was rather ill-judged in Mr. Crotchet to invite him
+to-day.  But the art of assorting company is above these _parvenus_.
+They invite a certain number of persons without considering how they
+harmonise with each other.  Between Sir Simon and you is the Reverend
+Doctor Folliott.  He is said to be an excellent scholar, and is fonder of
+books than the majority of his cloth; he is very fond, also, of the good
+things of this world.  He is of an admirable temper, and says rude things
+in a pleasant half-earnest manner, that nobody can take offence with.
+And next to him again is one Captain Fitzchrome, who is very much in love
+with a certain person that does not mean to have anything to say to him,
+because she can better her fortune by taking somebody else.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—And next to him again is the beautiful, the
+accomplished, the witty, the fascinating, the tormenting, Lady Clarinda,
+who traduces herself to the said Captain by assertions which it would
+drive him crazy to believe.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Time will show, sir.  And now we have gone the round of
+the table.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—But I must say, though I know you had always a turn
+for sketching characters, you surprise me by your observation, and
+especially by your attention to opinions.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Well, I will tell you a secret: I am writing a novel.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—A novel!
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Yes, a novel.  And I shall get a little finery by it:
+trinkets and fal-lals, which I cannot get from papa.  You must know I
+have been reading several fashionable novels, the fashionable this, and
+the fashionable that; and I thought to myself, why I can do better than
+any of these myself.  So I wrote a chapter or two, and sent them as a
+specimen to Mr. Puffall, the book-seller, telling him they were to be a
+part of the fashionable something or other, and he offered me, I will not
+say how much, to finish it in three volumes, and let him pay all the
+newspapers for recommending it as the work of a lady of quality, who had
+made very free with the characters of her acquaintance.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Surely you have not done so?
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Oh, no!  I leave that to Mr. Eavesdrop.  But Mr. Puffall
+made it a condition that I should let him say so.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—A strange recommendation.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Oh, nothing else will do.  And it seems you may give
+yourself any character you like, and the newspapers will print it as if
+it came from themselves.  I have commended you to three of our friends
+here as an economist, a transcendentalist, and a classical scholar; and
+if you wish to be renowned through the world for these, or any other
+accomplishments, the newspapers will confirm you in their possession for
+half-a-guinea a piece.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Truly, the praise of such gentry must be a feather
+in any one’s cap.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—So you will see, some morning, that my novel is “the
+most popular production of the day.”  This is Mr. Puffall’s favourite
+phrase.  He makes the newspapers say it of everything he publishes.  But
+“the day,” you know, is a very convenient phrase; it allows of three
+hundred and sixty-five “most popular productions” in a year.  And in
+leap-year one more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+THEORIES.
+
+
+    But when they came to shape the model,
+    Not one could fit the other’s noddle.—BUTLER.
+
+MEANWHILE, the last course, and the dessert, passed by.  When the ladies
+had withdrawn, young Crotchet addressed the company.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_, _jun._  There is one point in which philosophers of all
+classes seem to be agreed: that they only want money to regenerate the
+world.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—No doubt of it.  Nothing is so easy as to lay down the
+outlines of perfect society.  There wants nothing but money to set it
+going.  I will explain myself clearly and fully by reading a paper.
+(Producing a large scroll.)  “In the infancy of society—”
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Pray, Mr. Mac Quedy, how is it that all
+gentlemen of your nation begin everything they write with the “infancy of
+society?”
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Eh, sir, it is the simplest way to begin at the
+beginning.  “In the infancy of society, when government was invented to
+save a percentage; say two and a half per cent.—”
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I will not say any such thing.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, say any percentage you please.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I will not say any percentage at all.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—“On the principle of the division of labour—”
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Government was invented to spend a percentage.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—To save a percentage.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No, sir, to spend a percentage; and a good deal
+more than two and a half percent.  Two hundred and fifty per cent.: that
+is intelligible.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—“In the infancy of society—”
+
+_Mr. Toogood_.—Never mind the infancy of society.  The question is of
+society in its maturity.  Here is what it should be.  (Producing a
+paper.)  I have laid it down in a diagram.
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—Before we proceed to the question of government, we must
+nicely discriminate the boundaries of sense, understanding, and reason.
+Sense is a receptivity—
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_, _jun._—We are proceeding too fast.  Money being all that
+is wanted to regenerate society, I will put into the hands of this
+company a large sum for the purpose.  Now let us see how to dispose of
+it.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—We will begin by taking a committee-room in London,
+where we will dine together once a week, to deliberate.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—If the money is to go in deliberative dinners,
+you may set me down for a committee man and honorary caterer.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Next, you must all learn political economy, which I will
+teach you, very compendiously, in lectures over the bottle.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I hate lectures over the bottle.  But pray, sir,
+what is political economy?
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Political economy is to the state what domestic economy
+is to the family.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No such thing, sir.  In the family there is a
+_paterfamilias_, who regulates the distribution, and takes care that
+there shall be no such thing in the household as one dying of hunger,
+while another dies of surfeit.  In the state it is all hunger at one end,
+and all surfeit at the other.  Matchless claret, Mr. Crotchet.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Vintage of fifteen, Doctor.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—The family consumes, and so does the state.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Consumes, air!  Yes: but the mode, the
+proportions: there is the essential difference between the state and the
+family.  Sir, I hate false analogies.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, sir, the analogy is not essential.  Distribution
+will come under its proper head.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Come where it will, the distribution of the
+state is in no respect analogous to the distribution of the family.  The
+_paterfamilias_, sir: the _paterfamilias_.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, sir, let that pass.  The family consumes, and in
+order to consume, it must have supply.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Well, sir, Adam and Eve knew that, when they
+delved and span.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Very true, sir (reproducing his scroll).  “In the
+infancy of society—”
+
+_Mr. Toogood_.—The reverend gentleman has hit the nail on the head.  It
+is the distribution that must be looked to; it is the _paterfamilias_
+that is wanting in the State.  Now here I have provided him.
+(Reproducing his diagram.)
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—Apply the money, sir, to building and endowing an opera
+house, where the ancient altar of Bacchus may flourish, and justice may
+be done to sublime compositions.  (Producing a part of a manuscript
+opera.)
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—No, sir, build _sacella_ for transcendental oracles to
+teach the world how to see through a glass darkly.  (Producing a scroll.)
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—See through an opera-glass brightly.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—See through a wine-glass full of claret; then
+you see both darkly and brightly.  But, gentlemen, if you are all in the
+humour for reading papers, I will read you the first half of my next
+Sunday’s sermon.  (Producing a paper.)
+
+_Omnes_.—No sermon!  No sermon!
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Then I move that our respective papers be
+committed to our respective pockets.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Political economy is divided into two great branches,
+production and consumption.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Yes, sir; there are two great classes of men:
+those who produce much and consume little; and those who consume much and
+produce nothing.  The _fruges consumere nati_ have the best of it.  Eh,
+Captain!  You remember the characteristics of a great man according to
+Aristophanes: ὅστις γε πίνειν οἶδε καὶ βίνειν μόνον.  Ha! ha! ha!  Well,
+Captain, even in these tight-laced days, the obscurity of a learned
+language allows a little pleasantry.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Very true, sir; the pleasantry and the obscurity go
+together; they are all one, as it were—to me at any rate (aside).
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Now, sir—
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Pray, sir, let your science alone, or you will
+put me under the painful necessity of demolishing it bit by bit, as I
+have done your exordium.  I will undertake it any morning; but it is too
+hard exercise after dinner.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Well, sir, in the meantime I hold my science
+established.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—And I hold it demolished.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_, _jun._  Pray, gentlemen, pocket your manuscripts, fill
+your glasses, and consider what we shall do with our money.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Build lecture-rooms, and schools for all.
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—Revive the Athenian theatre; regenerate the lyrical drama.
+
+_Mr. Toogood_.—Build a grand co-operative parallelogram, with a
+steam-engine in the middle for a maid of all work.
+
+_Mr. Firedamp_.—Drain the country, and get rid of malaria, by abolishing
+duck-ponds.
+
+_Dr. Morbific_.—Found a philanthropic college of anticontagionists, where
+all the members shall be inoculated with the virus of all known diseases.
+Try the experiment on a grand scale.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Build a great dining-hall; endow it with beef and ale,
+and hang the hall round with arms to defend the provisions.
+
+_Mr. Henbane_.—Found a toxicological institution for trying all poisons
+and antidotes.  I myself have killed a frog twelve times, and brought him
+to life eleven; but the twelfth time he died.  I have a phial of the
+drug, which killed him, in my pocket, and shall not rest till I have
+discovered its antidote.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I move that the last speaker be dispossessed of
+his phial, and that it be forthwith thrown into the Thames.
+
+_Mr. Henbane_.—How, sir? my invaluable, and, in the present state of
+human knowledge, infallible poison?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Let the frogs have all the advantage of it.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Consider, Doctor, the fish might participate.  Think of
+the salmon.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Then let the owner’s right-hand neighbour
+swallow it.
+
+_Mr. Eavesdrop_.—Me, sir!  What have I done, sir, that I am to be
+poisoned, sir?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, you have published a character of your
+facetious friend, the Reverend Doctor F., wherein you have sketched off
+me; me, sir, even to my nose and wig.  What business have the public with
+my nose and wig?
+
+_Mr. Eavesdrop_.—Sir, it is all good-humoured; all in _bonhomie_: all
+friendly and complimentary.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, the bottle, _la Dive Bouteille_, is a
+recondite oracle, which makes an Eleusinian temple of the circle in which
+it moves.  He who reveals its mysteries must die.  Therefore, let the
+dose be administered.  _Fiat experimentum in animâ vili_.
+
+_Mr. Eavesdrop_.—Sir, you are very facetious at my expense.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, you have been very unfacetious, very
+inficete at mine.  You have dished me up, like a savoury omelette, to
+gratify the appetite of the reading rabble for gossip.  The next time,
+sir, I will respond with the _argumentum baculinum_.  Print that, sir:
+put it on record as a promise of the Reverend Doctor F., which shall be
+most faithfully kept, with an exemplary bamboo.
+
+_Mr. Eavesdrop_.—Your cloth protects you, sir.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—My bamboo shall protect me, sir.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Doctor, Doctor, you are growing too polemical.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, my blood boils.  What business have the
+public with my nose and wig?
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Doctor! Doctor!
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_, _jun._  Pray, gentlemen, return to the point.  How shall
+we employ our fund?
+
+_Mr. Philpot_.—Surely in no way so beneficially as in exploring rivers.
+Send a fleet of steamboats down the Niger, and another up the Nile.  So
+shall you civilise Africa, and establish stocking factories in Abyssinia
+and Bambo.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—With all submission, breeches and petticoats
+must precede stockings.  Send out a crew of tailors.  Try if the King of
+Bambo will invest in inexpressibles.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_, _jun._—Gentlemen, it is not for partial, but for general
+benefit, that this fund is proposed: a grand and universally applicable
+scheme for the amelioration of the condition of man.
+
+_Several Voices_.—That is my scheme.  I have not heard a scheme but my
+own that has a grain of common sense.
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—Gentlemen, you inspire me.  Your last exclamation runs
+itself into a chorus, and sets itself to music.  Allow me to lead, and to
+hope for your voices in harmony.
+
+          After careful meditation,
+          And profound deliberation,
+    On the various pretty projects which have just been shown,
+          Not a scheme in agitation,
+          For the world’s amelioration,
+    Has a grain of common sense in it, except my own.
+
+_Several Voices_.—We are not disposed to join in any such chorus.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Well, of all these schemes, I am for Mr.
+Trillo’s.  Regenerate the Athenian theatre.  My classical friend here,
+the Captain, will vote with, me.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—I, sir? oh! of course, sir.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Surely, Captain, I rely on you to uphold political
+economy.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Me, sir! oh, to be sure, sir.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Pray, sir, will political economy uphold the
+Athenian theatre?
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Surely not.  It would be a very unproductive investment.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Then the Captain votes against you.  What, sir,
+did not the Athenians, the wisest of nations, appropriate to their
+theatre their most sacred and intangible fund?  Did not they give to
+melopoeia, choregraphy, and the sundry forms of didascalics, the
+precedence of all other matters, civil and military?  Was it not their
+law, that even the proposal to divert this fund to any other purpose
+should be punished with death?  But, sir, I further propose that the
+Athenian theatre being resuscitated, the admission shall be free to all
+who can expound the Greek choruses, constructively, mythologically, and
+metrically, and to none others.  So shall all the world learn Greek:
+Greek, the Alpha and Omega of all knowledge.  At him who sits not in the
+theatre shall be pointed the finger of scorn: he shall be called in the
+highway of the city, “a fellow without Greek.”
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—But the ladies, sir, the ladies.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Every man may take in a lady: and she who can
+construe and metricise a chorus, shall, if she so please, pass in by
+herself.
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—But, sir, you will shut me out of my own theatre.  Let
+there at least be a double passport, Greek and Italian.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No, sir; I am inexorable.  No Greek, no theatre.
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—Sir, I cannot consent to be shut out from my own theatre.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—You see how it is, Squire Crotchet the younger;
+you can scarcely find two to agree on a scheme, and no two of those can
+agree on the details.  Keep your money in your pocket.  And so ends the
+fund for regenerating the world.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Nay, by no means.  We are all agreed on deliberative
+dinners.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Very true; we will dine and discuss.  We will
+sing with Robin Hood, “If I drink water while this doth last;” and while
+it lasts we will have no adjournment, if not to the Athenian theatre.
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—Well, gentlemen, I hope this chorus at least will please
+you:—
+
+    If I drink water while this doth last,
+    May I never again drink wine:
+    For how can a man, in his life of a span,
+    Do anything better than dine?
+    We'll dine and drink, and say if we think
+    That anything better can be,
+    And when we have dined, wish all mankind
+    May dine as well as we.
+    And though a good wish will fill no dish
+    And brim no cup with sack,
+    Yet thoughts will spring as the glasses ring,
+    To illume our studious track.
+    On the brilliant dreams of our hopeful schemes
+    The light of the flask shall shine;
+    And we’ll sit till day, but we’ll find the way
+    To drench the world with wine.
+
+The schemes for the world’s regeneration evaporated in a tumult of
+voices.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+THE SLEEPING VENUS.
+
+
+    Quoth he: In all my life till now,
+    I ne’er saw so profane a show.—BUTLER.
+
+THE library of Crotchet Castle was a large and well-furnished apartment,
+opening on one side into an ante-room, on the other into a music-room.
+It had several tables stationed at convenient distances; one consecrated
+to the novelties of literature, another to the novelties of
+embellishment; others unoccupied, and at the disposal of the company.
+The walls were covered with a copious collection of ancient and modern
+books; the ancient having been selected and arranged by the Reverend
+Doctor Folliott.  In the ante-room were card-tables; in the music-room
+were various instruments, all popular operas, and all fashionable music.
+In this suite of apartments, and not in the drawing-room, were the
+evenings of Crotchet Castle usually passed.
+
+The young ladies were in the music-room; Miss Crotchet at the piano, Lady
+Clarinda at the harp, playing and occasionally singing, at the suggestion
+of Mr. Trillo, portions of _Matilde di Shabran_.  Lord Bossnowl was
+turning over the leaves for Miss Crotchet; the Captain was performing the
+same office for Lady Clarinda, but with so much more attention to the
+lady than the book, that he often made sad work with the harmony, by
+turnover of two leaves together.  On these occasions Miss Crotchet paused,
+Lady Clarinda laughed, Mr. Trillo scolded, Lord Bossnowl yawned, the
+Captain apologised, and the performance proceeded.
+
+In the library Mr. Mac Quedy was expounding political economy to the
+Reverend Doctor Folliott, who was _pro more_ demolishing its doctrines
+_seriatim_.
+
+Mr. Chainmail was in hot dispute with Mr. Skionar, touching the physical
+and moral well-being of man.  Mr. Skionar was enforcing his friend Mr.
+Shantsee’s views of moral discipline; maintaining that the sole thing
+needful for man in this world was loyal and pious education; the giving
+men good books to read, and enough of the hornbook to read them; with a
+judicious interspersion of the lessons of Old Restraint, which was his
+poetic name for the parish stocks.  Mr. Chainmail, on the other hand,
+stood up for the exclusive necessity of beef and ale, lodging and
+raiment, wife and children, courage to fight for them all, and armour
+wherewith to do so.
+
+Mr. Henbane had got his face scratched, and his finger bitten, by the
+cat, in trying to catch her for a second experiment in killing and
+bringing to life; and Doctor Morbific was comforting him with a
+disquisition to prove that there were only four animals having the power
+to communicate hydrophobia, of which the cat was one; and that it was not
+necessary that the animal should be in a rabid state, the nature of the
+wound being everything, and the idea of contagion a delusion.  Mr.
+Henbane was listening very lugubriously to this dissertation.
+
+Mr. Philpot had seized on Mr. Firedamp, and pinned him down to a map of
+Africa, on which he was tracing imaginary courses of mighty inland
+rivers, terminating in lakes and marshes, where they were finally
+evaporated by the heat of the sun; and Mr. Firedamp’s hair was standing
+on end at the bare imagination of the mass of malaria that must be
+engendered by the operation.  Mr. Toogood had begun explaining his
+diagrams to Sir Simon Steeltrap; but Sir Simon grew testy, and told Mr.
+Toogood that the promulgators of such doctrines ought to be consigned to
+the treadmill.  The philanthropist walked off from the country gentleman,
+and proceeded to hold forth to young Crotchet, who stood silent, as one
+who listens, but in reality without hearing a syllable.  Mr. Crotchet,
+senior, as the master of the house, was left to entertain himself with
+his own meditations, till the Reverend Doctor Folliott tore himself from
+Mr. Mac Quedy, and proceeded to expostulate with Mr. Crotchet on a
+delicate topic.
+
+There was an Italian painter, who obtained the name of _Il Bragatore_, by
+the superinduction of inexpressibles on the naked Apollos and Bacchuses
+of his betters.  The fame of this worthy remained one and indivisible,
+till a set of heads, which had been, by a too common mistake of Nature’s
+journeymen, stuck upon magisterial shoulders, as the Corinthian capitals
+of “fair round bellies with fat capon lined,” but which Nature herself
+had intended for the noddles of porcelain mandarins, promulgated
+simultaneously from the east and the west of London, an order that no
+plaster-of-Paris Venus should appear in the streets without petticoats.
+Mr. Crotchet, on reading this order in the evening paper, which, by the
+postman’s early arrival, was always laid on his breakfast-table,
+determined to fill his house with Venuses of all sizes and kinds.  In
+pursuance of this resolution, came packages by water-carriage, containing
+an infinite variety of Venuses.  There were the Medicean Venus, and the
+Bathing Venus; the Uranian Venus, and the Pandemian Venus; the Crouching
+Venus, and the Sleeping Venus; the Venus rising from the sea, the Venus
+with the apple of Paris, and the Venus with the armour of Mars.
+
+The Reverend Doctor Folliott had been very much astonished at this
+unexpected display.  Disposed, as he was, to hold, that whatever had been
+in Greece, was right; he was more than doubtful of the propriety of
+throwing open the classical _adytum_ to the illiterate profane.  Whether,
+in his interior mind, he was at all influenced, either by the
+consideration that it would be for the credit of his cloth, with some of
+his vice-suppressing neighbours, to be able to say that he had
+expostulated; or by curiosity, to try what sort of defence his city-bred
+friend, who knew the classics only by translations, and whose reason was
+always a little ahead of his knowledge, would make for his somewhat
+ostentatious display of liberality in matters of taste; is a question on
+which the learned may differ: but, after having duly deliberated on two
+full-sized casts of the Uranian and Pandemian Venus, in niches on each
+side of the chimney, and on three alabaster figures, in glass cases, on
+the mantelpiece, he proceeded, peirastically, to open his fire.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—These little alabaster figures on the
+mantelpiece, Mr. Crotchet, and those large figures in the niches—may I
+take the liberty to ask you what they are intended to represent?
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Venus, sir; nothing more, sir; just Venus.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—May I ask you, sir, why they are there?
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—To be looked at, sir; just to be looked at: the reasons
+for most things in a gentleman’s house being in it at all; from the paper
+on the walls, and the drapery of the curtains, even to the books in the
+library, of which the most essential part is the appearance of the back.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Very true, sir.  As great philosophers hold that
+the _esse_ of things is _percipi_, so a gentleman’s furniture exists to
+be looked at.  Nevertheless, sir, there are some things more fit to be
+looked at than others; for instance, there is nothing more fit to be
+looked at than the outside of a book.  It is, as I may say, from repeated
+experience, a pure and unmixed pleasure to have a goodly volume lying
+before you, and to know that you may open it if you please, and need not
+open it unless you please.  It is a resource against _ennui_, if _ennui_
+should come upon you.  To have the resource and not to feel the _ennui_,
+to enjoy your bottle in the present, and your book in the indefinite
+future, is a delightful condition of human existence.  There is no place,
+in which a man can move or sit, in which the outside of a book can be
+otherwise than an innocent and becoming spectacle.  Touching this matter,
+there cannot, I think, be two opinions.  But with respect to your Venuses
+there can be, and indeed there are, two very distinct opinions.  Now,
+Sir, that little figure in the centre of the mantelpiece—as a grave
+_paterfamilias_, Mr. Crotchet, with a fair nubile daughter, whose eyes
+are like the fish-pools of Heshbon—I would ask you if you hold that
+figure to be altogether delicate?
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—The sleeping Venus, sir?  Nothing can be more delicate
+than the entire contour of the figure, the flow of the hair on the
+shoulders and neck, the form of the feet and fingers.  It is altogether a
+most delicate morsel.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Why, in that sense, perhaps, it is as delicate
+as whitebait in July.  But the attitude, sir, the attitude.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Nothing can be more natural, sir.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—That is the very thing, sir.  It is too natural:
+too natural, sir: it lies for all the world like—  I make no doubt, the
+pious cheesemonger, who recently broke its plaster facsimile over the
+head of the itinerant vendor, was struck by a certain similitude to the
+position of his own sleeping beauty, and felt his noble wrath thereby
+justly aroused.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Very likely, sir.  In my opinion, the cheesemonger was a
+fool, and the justice who sided with him was a greater.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Fool, sir, is a harsh term: call not thy brother
+a fool.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Sir, neither the cheesemonger nor the justice is a
+brother of mine.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, we are all brethren.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Yes, sir, as the hangman is of the thief; the squire of
+the poacher; the judge of the libeller; the lawyer of his client; the
+statesman of his colleague; the bubble-blower of the bubble-buyer; the
+slave-driver of the negro; as these are brethren, so am I and the
+worthies in question.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—To be sure, sir, in these instances, and in many
+others, the term brother must be taken in its utmost latitude of
+interpretation: we are all brothers, nevertheless.  But to return to the
+point.  Now these two large figures, one with drapery on the lower half
+of the body, and the other with no drapery at all; upon my word, sir, it
+matters not what godfathers and godmothers may have promised and vowed
+for the children of this world, touching the devil and other things to be
+renounced, if such figures as those are to be put before their eyes.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Sir, the naked figure is the Pandemian Venus, and the
+half-draped figure is the Uranian Venus; and I say, sir, that figure
+realises the finest imaginings of Plato, and is the personification of
+the most refined and exalted feeling of which the human mind is
+susceptible; the love of pure, ideal, intellectual beauty.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I am aware, sir, that Plato, in his Symposium,
+discourseth very eloquently touching the Uranian and Pandemian Venus: but
+you must remember that, in our universities, Plato is held to be little
+better than a misleader of youth; and they have shown their contempt for
+him, not only by never reading him (a mode of contempt in which they deal
+very largely), but even by never printing a complete edition of him;
+although they have printed many ancient books, which nobody suspects to
+have been ever read on the spot, except by a person attached to the
+press, who is, therefore, emphatically called “the reader.”
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Well, sir?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Why, sir, to “the reader” aforesaid (supposing
+either of our universities to have printed an edition of Plato), or to
+any one else who can be supposed to have read Plato, or, indeed, to be
+ever likely to do so, I would very willingly show these figures; because
+to such they would, I grant you, be the outward and visible signs of
+poetical and philosophical ideas: but, to the multitude, the gross,
+carnal multitude, they are but two beautiful women, one half undressed,
+and the other quite so.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Then, sir, let the multitude look upon them and learn
+modesty.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I must say that, if I wished my footman to learn
+modesty, I should not dream of sending him to school to a naked Venus.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Sir, ancient sculpture is the true school of modesty.
+But where the Greeks had modesty, we have cant; where they had poetry, we
+have cant; where they had patriotism, we have cant; where they had
+anything that exalts, delights, or adorns humanity, we have nothing but
+cant, cant, cant.  And, sir, to show my contempt for cant in all its
+shapes, I have adorned my house with the Greek Venus, in all her shapes,
+and am ready to fight her battle against all the societies that ever were
+instituted for the suppression of truth and beauty.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—My dear sir, I am afraid you are growing warm.
+Pray be cool.  Nothing contributes so much to good digestion as to be
+perfectly cool after dinner.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Sir, the Lacedæmonian virgins wrestled naked with young
+men; and they grew up, as the wise Lycurgus had foreseen, into the most
+modest of women, and the most exemplary of wives and mothers.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Very likely, sir; but the Athenian virgins did
+no such thing, and they grew up into wives who stayed at home—stayed at
+home, sir; and looked after their husbands’ dinner—his dinner, sir, you
+will please to observe.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—And what was the consequence of that, sir? that they were
+such very insipid persons that the husband would not go home to eat his
+dinner, but preferred the company of some Aspasia, or Lais.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Two very different persons, sir, give me leave
+to remark.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Very likely, sir; but both too good to be married in
+Athens.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, Lais was a Corinthian.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Od’s vengeance, sir, some Aspasia and any other Athenian
+name of the same sort of person you like—
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I do not like the sort of person at all: the
+sort of person I like, as I have already implied, is a modest woman, who
+stays at home and looks after her husband’s dinner.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Well, sir, that was not the taste of the Athenians.  They
+preferred the society of women who would not have made any scruple about
+sitting as models to Praxiteles; as you know, sir, very modest women in
+Italy did to Canova; one of whom, an Italian countess, being asked by an
+English lady, “how she could bear it?” answered, “Very well; there was a
+good fire in the room.”
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, the English lady should have asked how the
+Italian lady’s husband could bear it.  The phials of my wrath would
+overflow if poor dear Mrs. Folliott —: sir, in return for your story, I
+will tell you a story of my ancestor, Gilbert Folliott.  The devil
+haunted him, as he did Saint Francis, in the likeness of a beautiful
+damsel; but all he could get from the exemplary Gilbert was an admonition
+to wear a stomacher and longer petticoats.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Sir, your story makes for my side of the question.  It
+proves that the devil, in the likeness of a fair damsel, with short
+petticoats and no stomacher, was almost too much for Gilbert Folliott.
+The force of the spell was in the drapery.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Bless my soul, sir!
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Give me leave, sir.  Diderot—
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Who was he, sir?
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Who was he, sir? the sublime philosopher, the father of
+the Encyclopædia, of all the encyclopædias that have ever been printed.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Bless me, sir, a terrible progeny: they belong
+to the tribe of Incubi.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—The great philosopher, Diderot—
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, Diderot is not a man after my heart.  Keep
+to the Greeks, if you please; albeit this Sleeping Venus is not an
+antique.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Well, sir, the Greeks: why do we call the Elgin marbles
+inestimable?  Simply because they are true to nature.  And why are they
+so superior in that point to all modern works, with all our greater
+knowledge of anatomy?  Why, sir, but because the Greeks, having no cant,
+had better opportunities of studying models?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, I deny our greater knowledge of anatomy.
+But I shall take the liberty to employ, on this occasion, the _argumentum
+ad hominem_.  Would you have allowed Miss Crotchet to sit for a model to
+Canova?
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Yes, sir.
+
+“God bless my soul, sir!” exclaimed the Reverend Doctor Folliott,
+throwing himself back into a chair, and flinging up his heels, with the
+premeditated design of giving emphasis to his exclamation; but by
+miscalculating his impetus, he overbalanced his chair, and laid himself
+on the carpet in a right angle, of which his back was the base.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+SCIENCE AND CHARITY.
+
+
+    Chi sta nel mondo un par d’ore contento,
+    Nè gli vien tolta, ovver contaminata,
+    Quella sua pace in veruno momento,
+    Puo dir che Giove drittamente il guata.
+
+                                                              FORTEGUERRI.
+
+THE Reverend Doctor Folliott took his departure about ten o’clock, to
+walk home to his vicarage.  There was no moon, but the night was bright
+and clear, and afforded him as much light as he needed.  He paused a
+moment by the Roman camp to listen to the nightingale; repeated to
+himself a passage of Sophocles; proceeded through the park gate, and
+entered the narrow lane that led to the village.  He walked on in a very
+pleasant mood of the state called reverie; in which fish and wine, Greek
+and political economy, the Sleeping Venus he had left behind, and poor
+dear Mrs. Folliott, to whose fond arms he was returning, passed, as in a
+camera obscura, over the tablets of his imagination.  Presently the image
+of Mr. Eavesdrop, with a printed sketch of the Reverend Doctor F.,
+presented itself before him, and he began mechanically to flourish his
+bamboo.  The movement was prompted by his good genius, for the uplifted
+bamboo received the blow of a ponderous cudgel, which was intended for
+his head.  The reverend gentleman recoiled two or three paces, and saw
+before him a couple of ruffians, who were preparing to renew the attack,
+but whom, with two swings of his bamboo, he laid with cracked sconces on
+the earth, where he proceeded to deal with them like corn beneath the
+flail of the thresher.  One of them drew a pistol, which went off in the
+very act of being struck aside by the bamboo, and lodged a bullet in the
+brain of the other.  There was then only one enemy, who vainly struggled
+to rise, every effort being attended with a new and more signal
+prostration.  The fellow roared for mercy.  “Mercy, rascal!” cried the
+divine; “what mercy were you going to show me, villain?  What!  I warrant
+me, you thought it would be an easy matter, and no sin, to rob and murder
+a parson on his way home from dinner.  You said to yourself, doubtless,
+“We’ll waylay the fat parson (you irreverent knave), as he waddles home
+(you disparaging ruffian), half-seas-over, (you calumnious vagabond).”
+And with every dyslogistic term, which he supposed had been applied to
+himself, he inflicted a new bruise on his rolling and roaring antagonist.
+“Ah, rogue!” he proceeded, “you can roar now, marauder; you were silent
+enough when you devoted my brains to dispersion under your cudgel.  But
+seeing that I cannot bind you, and that I intend you not to escape, and
+that it would be dangerous to let you rise, I will disable you in all
+your members.  I will contund you as Thestylis did strong smelling herbs,
+in the quality whereof you do most gravely partake, as my nose beareth
+testimony, ill weed that you are.  I will beat you to a jelly, and I will
+then roll you into the ditch, to lie till the constable comes for you,
+thief.”
+
+“Hold! hold! reverend sir,” exclaimed the penitent culprit, “I am
+disabled already in every finger, and in every joint.  I will roll myself
+into the ditch, reverend sir.”
+
+“Stir not, rascal,” returned the divine, “stir not so much as the
+quietest leaf above you, or my bamboo rebounds on your body, like hail in
+a thunder-storm.  Confess, speedily, villain; are you a simple thief, or
+would you have manufactured me into a subject for the benefit of science?
+Ay, miscreant caitiff, you would have made me a subject for science,
+would you?  You are a school-master abroad, are you?  You are marching
+with a detachment of the march of mind, are you?  You are a member of the
+Steam Intellect Society, are you?  You swear by the learned friend, do
+you?”
+
+“Oh, no! reverend sir,” answered the criminal, “I am innocent of all
+these offences, whatever they are, reverend sir.  The only friend I had
+in the world is lying dead beside me, reverend sir.”
+
+The reverend gentleman paused a moment, and leaned on his bamboo.  The
+culprit, bruised as he was, sprang on his legs, and went off in double
+quick time.  The Doctor gave him chase, and had nearly brought him within
+arm’s length, when the fellow turned at right angles, and sprang clean
+over a deep dry ditch.  The divine, following with equal ardour, and less
+dexterity, went down over head and ears into a thicket of nettles.
+Emerging with much discomposure, he proceeded to the village, and roused
+the constable; but the constable found, on reaching the scene of action,
+that the dead man was gone, as well as his living accomplice.
+
+“Oh, the monster!” exclaimed the Reverend Doctor Folliott, “he has made a
+subject for science of the only friend he had in the world.”  “Ay, my
+dear,” he resumed, the next morning at breakfast, “if my old reading, and
+my early gymnastics (for, as the great Hermann says, before I was
+demulced by the Muses, I was _ferocis ingenii puer_, _et ad arma quam ad
+literas paratior_), had not imbued me indelibly with some of the holy
+rage of _Frère Jean des Entommeures_, I should be, at this moment, lying
+on the table of some flinty-hearted anatomist, who would have sliced and
+disjointed me as unscrupulously as I do these remnants of the capon and
+chine, wherewith you consoled yourself yesterday for my absence at
+dinner.  Phew! I have a noble thirst upon me, which I will quench with
+floods of tea.”
+
+The reverend gentleman was interrupted by a messenger, who informed him
+that the Charity Commissioners requested his presence at the inn, where
+they were holding a sitting.
+
+“The Charity Commissioners!” exclaimed the reverend gentleman, “who on
+earth are they?”
+
+The messenger could not inform him, and the reverend gentleman took his
+hat and stick, and proceeded to the inn.
+
+On entering the best parlour, he saw three well-dressed and bulky
+gentlemen sitting at a table, and a fourth officiating as clerk, with an
+open book before him, and a pen in his hand.  The church-wardens, who had
+been also summoned, were already in attendance.
+
+The chief commissioner politely requested the Reverend Doctor Folliott to
+be seated, and after the usual meteorological preliminaries had been
+settled by a resolution, _nem. con._, that it was a fine day but very
+hot, the chief commissioner stated, that in virtue of the commission of
+Parliament, which they had the honour to hold, they were now to inquire
+into the state of the public charities of this village.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—The state of the public charities, sir, is
+exceedingly simple.  There are none.  The charities here are all private,
+and so private, that I for one know nothing of them.
+
+_First Commissioner_.—We have been informed, sir, that there is an annual
+rent charged on the land of Hautbois, for the endowment and repair of an
+almshouse.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Hautbois! Hautbois!
+
+_First Commissioner_.—The manorial farm of Hautbois, now occupied by
+Farmer Seedling, is charged with the endowment and maintenance of an
+almshouse.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_ (_to the Churchwarden_).  How is this, Mr.
+Bluenose?
+
+_First Churchwarden_.—I really do not know, sir.  What say you, Mr.
+Appletwig?
+
+_Mr. Appletwig_ (_parish clerk and schoolmaster_; _an old man_).  I do
+remember, gentlemen, to have been informed, that there did stand, at the
+end of the village, a ruined cottage, which had once been an almshouse,
+which was endowed and maintained, by an annual revenue of a mark and a
+half, or one pound sterling, charged some centuries ago on the farm of
+Hautbois; but the means, by the progress of time, having become
+inadequate to the end, the almshouse tumbled to pieces.
+
+_First Commissioner_.—But this is a right which cannot be abrogated by
+desuetude, and the sum of one pound per annum is still chargeable for
+charitable purposes on the manorial farm of Hautbois.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Very well, sir.
+
+_Mr. Appletwig_.—But, sir, the one pound per annum is still received by
+the parish, but was long ago, by an unanimous vote in open vestry, given
+to the minister.
+
+_The Three Commissioners_ (_unâ voce_).  The minister!
+
+_First Commissioner_.—This is an unjustifiable proceeding.
+
+_Second Commissioner_.—A misappropriation of a public fund.
+
+_Third Commissioner_.—A flagrant perversion of a charitable donation.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—God bless my soul, gentlemen!  I know nothing of
+this matter.  How is this, Mr. Bluenose?  Do I receive this one pound per
+annum?
+
+_First Churchwarden_.—Really, sir, I know no more about it than you do.
+
+_Mr. Appletwig_.—You certainly receive it, sir.  It was voted to one of
+your predecessors.  Farmer Seedling lumps it in with his tithes.
+
+_First Commissioner_.—Lumps it in, sir!  Lump in a charitable donation!
+
+_Second and Third Commissioner_.—Oh-oh-oh-h-h!
+
+_First Commissioner_.—Reverend sir, and gentlemen, officers of this
+parish, we are under the necessity of admonishing you that this is a most
+improper proceeding: and you are hereby duly admonished accordingly.
+Make a record, Mr. Milky.
+
+_Mr. Milky_ (_writing_).  The clergyman and church-wardens of the village
+of Hm-ra-m-m- gravely admonished.  Hm-m-m-m.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Is that all, gentlemen?
+
+_The Commissioners_.—That is all, sir; and we wish you a good morning.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—A very good morning to you, gentlemen.
+
+“What in the name of all that is wonderful, Mr. Bluenose,” said the
+Reverend Doctor Folliott, as he walked out of the inn, “what in the name
+of all that is wonderful, can those fellows mean?  They have come here in
+a chaise and four, to make a fuss about a pound per annum, which, after
+all, they leave as it was: I wonder who pays them for their trouble, and
+how much.”
+
+_Mr. Appletwig_.—The public pay for it, sir.  It is a job of the learned
+friend whom you admire so much.  It makes away with public money in
+salaries, and private money in lawsuits, and does no particle of good to
+any living soul.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Ay, ay, Mr. Appletwig; that is just the sort of
+public service to be looked for from the learned friend.  Oh, the learned
+friend! the learned friend!  He is the evil genius of everything that
+falls in his way.
+
+The Reverend Doctor walked off to Crotchet Castle, to narrate his
+misadventures, and exhale his budget of grievances on Mr. Mac Quedy, whom
+he considered a ringleader of the march of mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+THE VOYAGE.
+
+
+    Οἰ μέν ἔπειτ’ ἀναβάτες ἐπέπλον ὑγρὰ κέλευθα.
+
+    Mounting the bark, they cleft the watery ways.—HOMER.
+
+FOUR beautiful cabined pinnaces, one for the ladies, one for the
+gentlemen, one for kitchen and servants, one for a dining-room and band
+of music, weighed anchor, on a fine July morning, from below Crotchet
+Castle, and were towed merrily, by strong trotting horses, against the
+stream of the Thames.  They passed from the district of chalk,
+successively into the districts of clay, of sand-rock, of oolite, and so
+forth.  Sometimes they dined in their floating dining-room, sometimes in
+tents, which they pitched on the dry, smooth-shaven green of a newly-mown
+meadow: sometimes they left their vessels to see sights in the vicinity;
+sometimes they passed a day or two in a comfortable inn.
+
+At Oxford, they walked about to see the curiosities of architecture,
+painted windows, and undisturbed libraries.  The Reverend Doctor Folliott
+laid a wager with Mr. Crotchet “that in all their perlustrations they
+would not find a man reading,” and won it.  “Ay,” said the reverend
+gentleman, “this is still a seat of learning, on the principle of—once a
+captain, always a captain.  We may well ask, in these great reservoirs of
+books whereof no man ever draws a sluice, _Quorsum pertinuit stipere
+Platona Menandro_?  What is done here for the classics?  Reprinting
+German editions on better paper.  A great boast, verily!  What for
+mathematics?  What for metaphysics?  What for history?  What for anything
+worth knowing?  This was a seat of learning in the days of Friar Bacon.
+But the Friar is gone, and his learning with him.  Nothing of him is left
+but the immortal nose, which, when his brazen head had tumbled to pieces,
+crying “Time’s Past,” was the only palpable fragment among its minutely
+pulverised atoms, and which is still resplendent over the portals of its
+cognominal college.  That nose, sir, is the only thing to which I shall
+take off my hat, in all this Babylon of buried literature.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—But, doctor, it is something to have a great reservoir of
+learning, at which some may draw if they please.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—But, here, good care is taken that nobody shall
+please.  If even a small drop from the sacred fountain, πίδακος ἐξ ἱερῆς
+ὀλίγη λιβὰς, as Callimachus has it, were carried off by any one, it would
+be evidence of something to hope for.  But the system of dissuasion from
+all good learning is brought here to a pitch of perfection that baffles
+the keenest aspirant.  I run over to myself the names of the scholars of
+Germany, a glorious catalogue: but ask for those of Oxford,—Where are
+they?  The echoes of their courts, as vacant as their heads, will answer,
+Where are they?  The tree shall be known by its fruit: and seeing that
+this great tree, with all its specious seeming, brings forth no fruit, I
+do denounce it as a barren fig.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—I shall set you right on this point.  We do nothing
+without motives.  If learning get nothing but honour, and very little of
+that; and if the good things of this world, which ought to be the rewards
+of learning, become the mere gifts of self-interested patronage; you must
+not wonder if, in the finishing of education, the science which takes
+precedence of all others, should be the science of currying favour.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Very true, sir.  Education is well finished, for
+all worldly purposes, when the head is brought into the state whereinto I
+am accustomed to bring a marrow-bone, when it has been set before me on a
+toast, with a white napkin wrapped round it.  Nothing trundles along the
+high road of preferment so trimly as a well-biassed sconce, picked clean
+within and polished without; _totus teres atque rotundus_.  The
+perfection of the finishing lies in the bias, which keeps it trundling in
+the given direction.  There is good and sufficient reason for the fig
+being barren, but it is not therefore the less a barren fig.
+
+At Godstow, they gathered hazel on the grave of Rosamond; and, proceeding
+on their voyage, fell into a discussion on legendary histories.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—History is but a tiresome thing in itself: it becomes
+more agreeable the more romance is mixed up with it.  The great enchanter
+has made me learn many things which I should never have dreamed of
+studying, if they had not come to me in the form of amusement.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—What enchanter is that?  There are two
+enchanters: he of the north, and he of the south.
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—Rossini!
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Ay, there is another enchanter.  But I mean the
+great enchanter of Covent Garden: he who, for more than a quarter of a
+century, has produced two pantomimes a year, to the delight of children
+of all ages; including myself at all ages.  That is the enchanter for me.
+I am for the pantomimes.  All the northern enchanter’s romances put
+together would not furnish materials for half the Southern enchanter’s
+pantomimes.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Surely you do not class literature with pantomime?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—In these cases, I do.  They are both one, with a
+slight difference.  The one is the literature of pantomime, the other is
+the pantomime of literature.  There is the same variety of character, the
+same diversity of story, the same copiousness of incident, the same
+research into costume, the same display of heraldry, falconry,
+minstrelsy, scenery, monkery, witchery, devilry, robbery, poachery,
+piracy, fishery, gipsy-astrology, demonology, architecture,
+fortification, castrametation, navigation; the same running base of love
+and battle.  The main difference is, that the one set of amusing fictions
+is told in music and action; the other in all the worst dialects of the
+English language.  As to any sentence worth remembering, any moral or
+political truth, anything having a tendency, however remote, to make men
+wiser or better, to make them think, to make them ever think of thinking;
+they are both precisely alike _nuspiam_, _nequaquam_, _nullibi_,
+_nullimodis_.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Very amusing, however.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Very amusing, very amusing.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—My quarrel with the northern enchanter is, that he has
+grossly misrepresented the twelfth century.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—He has misrepresented everything, or he would
+not have been very amusing.  Sober truth is but dull matter to the
+reading rabble.  The angler, who puts not on his hook the bait that best
+pleases the fish, may sit all day on the bank without catching a gudgeon.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—But how do you mean that he has misrepresented the
+twelfth century?  By exhibiting some of its knights and ladies in the
+colours of refinement and virtue, seeing that they were all no better
+than ruffians, and something else that shall be nameless?
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—By no means.  By depicting them as much worse than they
+were, not, as you suppose, much better.  No one would infer from his
+pictures that theirs was a much better state of society than this which
+we live in.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—No, nor was it.  It was a period of brutality,
+ignorance, fanaticism, and tyranny; when the land was covered with
+castles, and every castle contained a gang of banditti, headed by a
+titled robber, who levied contributions with fire and sword; plundering,
+torturing, ravishing, burying his captives in loathsome dungeons, and
+broiling them on gridirons, to force from them the surrender of every
+particle of treasure which he suspected them of possessing; and fighting
+every now and then with the neighbouring lords, his conterminal bandits,
+for the right of marauding on the boundaries.  This was the twelfth
+century, as depicted by all contemporary historians and poets.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—No, sir.  Weigh the evidence of specific facts; you will
+find more good than evil.  Who was England’s greatest hero—the mirror of
+chivalry, the pattern of honour, the fountain of generosity, the model to
+all succeeding ages of military glory?  Richard the First.  There is a
+king of the twelfth century.  What was the first step of liberty?  Magna
+Charta.  That was the best thing ever done by lords.  There are lords of
+the twelfth century.  You must remember, too, that these lords were petty
+princes, and made war on each other as legitimately as the heads of
+larger communities did or do.  For their system of revenue, it was, to be
+sure, more rough and summary than that which has succeeded it, but it was
+certainly less searching and less productive.  And as to the people, I
+content myself with these great points: that every man was armed, every
+man was a good archer, every man could and would fight effectively, with
+sword or pike, or even with oaken cudgel; no man would live quietly
+without beef and ale if he had them not; he fought till he either got
+them, or was put out of condition to want them.  They were not, and could
+not be, subjected to that powerful pressure of all the other classes of
+society, combined by gunpowder, steam, and _fiscality_, which has brought
+them to that dismal degradation in which we see them now.  And there are
+the people of the twelfth century.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—As to your king, the enchanter has done him ample
+justice, even in your own view.  As to your lords and their ladies, he
+has drawn them too favourably, given them too many of the false colours
+of chivalry, thrown too attractive a light on their abominable doings.
+As to the people, he keeps them so much in the background, that he can
+hardly be said to have represented them at all, much less misrepresented
+them, which indeed he could scarcely do, seeing that, by your own
+showing, they were all thieves, ready to knock down any man for what they
+could not come by honestly.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—No, sir.  They could come honestly by beef and ale,
+while they were left to their simple industry.  When oppression
+interfered with them in that, then they stood on the defensive, and
+fought for what they were not permitted to come by quietly.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—If A., being aggrieved by B., knocks down C., do you
+call that standing on the defensive?
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—That depends on who or what C. is.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Gentlemen, you will never settle this
+controversy till you have first settled what is good for man in this
+world; the great question, _de finibus_, which has puzzled all
+philosophers.  If the enchanter has represented the twelfth century too
+brightly for one, and too darkly for the other of you, I should say, as
+an impartial man, he has represented it fairly.  My quarrel with him is,
+that his works contain nothing worth quoting; and a book that furnishes
+no quotations, is _me judice_, no book—it is a plaything.  There is no
+question about the amusement,—amusement of multitudes; but if he who
+amuses us most is to be our enchanter κατ’ ἐξοχὴν, then my enchanter is
+the enchanter of Covent Garden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+THE VOYAGE, CONTINUED.
+
+
+    Continuant nostre routte, navigasmes par trois jours _sans rien
+    descouvrir_.—RABELAIS.
+
+“THERE is a beautiful structure,” said Mr. Chainmail, as they glided by
+Lechlade church; “a subject for the pencil, Captain.  It is a question
+worth asking, Mr. Mac Quedy, whether the religious spirit which reared
+these edifices, and connected with them everywhere an asylum for
+misfortune, and a provision for poverty, was not better than the
+commercial spirit, which has turned all the business of modern life into
+schemes of profit and processes of fraud and extortion.  I do not see, in
+all your boasted improvements, any compensation for the religious charity
+of the twelfth century.  I do not see any compensation for that kindly
+feeling which, within their own little communities, bound the several
+classes of society together, while full scope was left for the
+development of natural character, wherein individuals differed as
+conspicuously as in costume.  Now, we all wear one conventional dress,
+one conventional face; we have no bond of union but pecuniary interest;
+we talk anything that comes uppermost for talking’s sake, and without
+expecting to be believed; we have no nature, no simplicity, no
+picturesqueness: everything about us is as artificial and as complicated
+as our steam-machinery: our poetry is a kaleidoscope of false imagery,
+expressing no real feeling, portraying no real existence.  I do not see
+any compensation for the poetry of the twelfth century.”
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—I wonder to hear you, Mr. Chainmail, talking of the
+religious charity of a set of lazy monks and beggarly friars, who were
+much more occupied with taking than giving; of whom those who were in
+earnest did nothing but make themselves and everybody about them
+miserable with fastings and penances, and other such trash; and those who
+were not, did nothing but guzzle and royster, and, having no wives of
+their own, took very unbecoming liberties with those of honester men.
+And as to your poetry of the twelfth century, it is not good for much.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—It has, at any rate, what ours wants, truth to nature
+and simplicity of diction.
+
+The poetry, which was addressed to the people of the dark ages, pleased
+in proportion to the truth with which it depicted familiar images, and to
+their natural connection with the time and place to which they were
+assigned.  In the poetry of our enlightened times, the characteristics of
+all seasons, soils, and climates may be blended together with much
+benefit to the author’s fame as an original genius.  The cowslip of a
+civic poet is always in blossom, his fern is always in full feather; he
+gathers the celandine, the primrose, the heath-flower, the jasmine, and
+the chrysanthemum all on the same day and from the same spot; his
+nightingale sings all the year round, his moon is always full, his cygnet
+is as white as his swan, his cedar is as tremulous as his aspen, and his
+poplar as embowering as his beech.  Thus all nature marches with the
+march of mind; but among barbarians, instead of mead and wine, and the
+best seat by the fire, the reward of such a genius would have been to be
+summarily turned out of doors in the snow, to meditate on the difference
+between day and night and between December and July.  It is an age of
+liberality, indeed, when not to know an oak from a burdock is no
+disqualification for sylvan minstrelsy.  I am for truth and simplicity.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Let him who loves them read Greek: Greek, Greek,
+Greek.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—If he can, sir.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Very true, sir; if he can.  Here is the Captain
+who can.  But I think he must have finished his education at some very
+rigid college, where a quotation or any other overt act showing
+acquaintance with classical literature was visited with a severe penalty.
+For my part, I make it my boast that I was not to be so subdued.  I could
+not be abated of a single quotation by all the bumpers in which I was
+fined.
+
+In this manner they glided over the face of the waters, discussing
+everything and settling nothing.  Mr. Mac Quedy and the Reverend Doctor
+Folliott had many digladiations on political economy: wherein, each in
+his own view, Doctor Folliott demolished Mr. Mac Quedy’s science, and Mr.
+Mac Quedy demolished Dr. Folliott’s objections.
+
+We would print these dialogues if we thought anyone would read them; but
+the world is not yet ripe for this _haute sagesse Pantagrueline_.  We
+must therefore content ourselves with an _échantillon_ of one of the
+Reverend Doctor’s perorations.
+
+“You have given the name of a science to what is yet an imperfect
+inquiry, and the upshot of your so-called science is this: that you
+increase the wealth of a nation by increasing in it the quantity of
+things which are produced by labour: no matter what they are, no matter
+how produced, no matter how distributed.  The greater the quantity of
+labour that has gone to the production of the quantity of things in a
+community, the richer is the community.  That is your doctrine.  Now, I
+say, if this be so, riches are not the object for a community to aim at.
+I say the nation is best off, in relation to other nations, which has the
+greatest quantity of the common necessaries of life distributed among the
+greatest number of persons; which has the greatest number of honest
+hearts and stout arms united in a common interest, willing to offend no
+one, but ready to fight in defence of their own community against all the
+rest of the world, because they have something in it worth fighting for.
+The moment you admit that one class of things, without any reference to
+what they respectively cost, is better worth having than another; that a
+smaller commercial value, with one mode of distribution, is better than a
+greater commercial value, with another mode of distribution; the whole of
+that curious fabric of postulates and dogmas, which you call the science
+of political economy, and which I call _politicæ æconomiæ inscientia_,
+tumbles to pieces.”
+
+Mr. Toogood agreed with Mr. Chainmail against Mr. Mac Quedy, that the
+existing state of society was worse than that of the twelfth century; but
+he agreed with Mr. Mac Quedy against Mr. Chainmail, that it was in
+progress to something much better than either—to which “something much
+better” Mr. Toogood and Mr. Mac Quedy attached two very different
+meanings.
+
+Mr. Chainmail fought with Doctor Folliott, the battle of the romantic
+against the classical in poetry; and Mr. Skionar contended with Mr. Mac
+Quedy for intuition and synthesis, against analysis and induction in
+philosophy.
+
+Mr. Philpot would lie along for hours, listening to the gurgling of the
+water round the prow, and would occasionally edify the company with
+speculations on the great changes that would be effected in the world by
+the steam-navigation of rivers: sketching the course of a steamboat up
+and down some mighty stream which civilisation had either never visited,
+or long since deserted; the Missouri and the Columbia, the Oroonoko and
+the Amazon, the Nile and the Niger, the Euphrates and the Tigris, the
+Oxus and the Indus, the Ganges and the Hoangho; under the over canopying
+forests of the new, or by the long-silent ruins of the ancient, world;
+through the shapeless mounds of Babylon, or the gigantic temples of
+Thebes.
+
+Mr. Trillo went on with the composition of his opera, and took the
+opinions of the young ladies on every step in its progress; occasionally
+regaling the company with specimens; and wondering at the blindness of
+Mr. Mac Quedy, who could not, or would not, see that an opera in
+perfection, being the union of all the beautiful arts—music, painting,
+dancing, poetry—exhibiting female beauty in its most attractive aspects,
+and in its most becoming costume—was, according to the well-known
+precept, _Ingenuas didicisse_, etc., the most efficient instrument of
+civilisation, and ought to take precedence of all other pursuits in the
+minds of true philanthropists.  The Reverend Doctor Folliott, on these
+occasions, never failed to say a word or two on Mr. Trillo’s side,
+derived from the practice of the Athenians, and from the combination, in
+their theatre, of all the beautiful arts, in a degree of perfection
+unknown to the modern world.
+
+Leaving Lechlade, they entered the canal that connects the Thames with
+the Severn; ascended by many locks; passed by a tunnel, three miles long,
+through the bowels of Sapperton Hill; agreed unanimously that the
+greatest pleasure derivable from visiting a cavern of any sort was that
+of getting out of it; descended by many locks again through the valley of
+Stroud into the Severn; continued their navigation into the Ellesmere
+canal; moored their pinnaces in the Vale of Llangollen by the aqueduct of
+Pontycysyllty; and determined to pass some days in inspecting the
+scenery, before commencing their homeward voyage.
+
+The Captain omitted no opportunity of pressing his suit on Lady Clarinda,
+but could never draw from her any reply but the same doctrines of worldly
+wisdom, delivered in a tone of _badinage_, mixed with a certain kindness
+of manner that induced him to hope she was not in earnest.
+
+But the morning after they had anchored under the hills of the
+Dee—whether the lady had reflected more seriously than usual, or was
+somewhat less in good humour than usual, or the Captain was more pressing
+than usual—she said to him: “It must not be, Captain Fitzchrome; ‘the
+course of true love never did run smooth:’ my father must keep his
+borough, and I must have a town house and a country house, and an opera
+box, and a carriage.  It is not well for either of us that we should
+flirt any longer: ‘I must be cruel only to be kind.’  Be satisfied with
+the assurance that you alone, of all men, have ever broken my rest.  To
+be sure, it was only for about three nights in all; but that is too
+much.”
+
+The Captain had _le cœur navré_.  He took his portfolio under his arm,
+made up the little _valise_ of a pedestrian, and, without saying a word
+to anyone, wandered off at random among the mountains.
+
+After the lapse of a day or two, the Captain was missed, and everyone
+marvelled what was become of him.  Mr. Philpot thought he must have been
+exploring a river, and fallen in and got drowned in the process.  Mr.
+Firedamp had no doubt he had been crossing a mountain bog, and had been
+suddenly deprived of life by the exhalations of marsh miasmata.  Mr.
+Henbane deemed it probable that he had been tempted in some wood by the
+large black brilliant berries of the _Atropa Belladonna_, or Deadly
+Nightshade; and lamented that he had not been by, to administer an
+infallible antidote.  Mr. Eavesdrop hoped the particulars of his fate
+would be ascertained; and asked if anyone present could help him to any
+authentic anecdotes of their departed friend.  The Reverend Doctor
+Folliott proposed that an inquiry should be instituted as to whether the
+march of intellect had reached that neighbourhood, as, if so, the Captain
+had probably been made a subject for science.  Mr. Mac Quedy said it was
+no such great matter to ascertain the precise mode in which the surplus
+population was diminished by one.  Mr. Toogood asseverated that there was
+no such thing as surplus population, and that the land, properly managed,
+would maintain twenty times its present inhabitants; and hereupon they
+fell into a disputation.
+
+Lady Clarinda did not doubt that the Captain had gone away designedly;
+she missed him more than she could have anticipated, and wished she had
+at least postponed her last piece of cruelty till the completion of their
+homeward voyage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+CORRESPONDENCE.
+
+
+    “Base is the slave that pays.”—ANCIENT PISTOL.
+
+THE Captain was neither drowned nor poisoned, neither miasmatised nor
+anatomised.  But, before we proceed to account for him, we must look back
+to a young lady, of whom some little notice was taken in the first
+chapter; and who, though she has since been out of sight, has never with
+us been out of mind: Miss Susannah Touchandgo, the forsaken of the junior
+Crotchet, whom we left an inmate of a solitary farm, in one of the deep
+valleys under the cloud-capt summits of Meirion, comforting her wounded
+spirit with air and exercise, rustic cheer, music, painting, and poetry,
+and the prattle of the little Ap Llymrys.
+
+One evening, after an interval of anxious expectation, the farmer,
+returning from market brought for her two letters, of which the contents
+were these:
+
+                         “_Dotandcarryonetown_, _State of Apodidraskiana_.
+                                                          “_April_ 1, 18..
+
+    “MY DEAR CHILD,
+
+    “I am anxious to learn what are your present position, intention, and
+    prospects.  The fairies who dropped gold in your shoe, on the morning
+    when I ceased to be a respectable man in London, will soon find a
+    talismanic channel for transmitting you a stocking full of dollars,
+    which will fit the shoe as well as the foot of Cinderella fitted her
+    slipper.  I am happy to say I am again become a respectable man.  It
+    was always my ambition to be a respectable man, and I am a very
+    respectable man here, in this new township of a new state, where I
+    have purchased five thousand acres of land, at two dollars an acre,
+    hard cash, and established a very flourishing bank.  The notes of
+    Touchandgo and Company, soft cash, are now the exclusive currency of
+    all this vicinity.  This is the land in which all men flourish; but
+    there are three classes of men who flourish especially,—methodist
+    preachers, slave-drivers, and paper-money manufacturers; and as one
+    of the latter, I have just painted the word BANK on a fine slab of
+    maple, which was green and growing when I arrived, and have
+    discounted for the settlers, in my own currency, sundry bills, which
+    are to be paid when the proceeds of the crop they have just sown
+    shall return from New Orleans; so that my notes are the
+    representatives of vegetation that is to be, and I am accordingly a
+    capitalist of the first magnitude.  The people here know very well
+    that I ran away from London; but the most of them have run away from
+    some place or other; and they have a great respect for me, because
+    they think I ran away with something worth taking, which few of them
+    had the luck or the wit to do.  This gives them confidence in my
+    resources, at the same time that, as there is nothing portable in the
+    settlement except my own notes, they have no fear that I shall run
+    away with them.  They know I am thoroughly conversant with the
+    principles of banking, and as they have plenty of industry, no lack
+    of sharpness, and abundance of land, they wanted nothing but capital
+    to organise a flourishing settlement; and this capital I have
+    manufactured to the extent required, at the expense of a small
+    importation of pens, ink, and paper, and two or three inimitable
+    copper plates.  I have abundance here of all good things, a good
+    conscience included; for I really cannot see that I have done any
+    wrong.  This was my position: I owed half a million of money; and I
+    had a trifle in my pocket.  It was clear that this trifle could never
+    find its way to the right owner.  The question was, whether I should
+    keep it, and live like a gentleman; or hand it over to lawyers and
+    commissioners of bankruptcy, and die like a dog on a dunghill.  If I
+    could have thought that the said lawyers, etc., had a better title to
+    it than myself, I might have hesitated; but, as such title was not
+    apparent to my satisfaction, I decided the question in my own favour,
+    the right owners, as I have already said, being out of the question
+    altogether.  I have always taken scientific views of morals and
+    politics, a habit from which I derive much comfort under existing
+    circumstances.
+
+    “I hope you adhere to your music, though I cannot hope again to
+    accompany your harp with my flute.  My last _andante_ movement was
+    too _forte_ for those whom it took by surprise.  Let not your
+    _allegro vivace_ be damped by young Crotchet’s desertion, which,
+    though I have not heard it, I take for granted.  He is, like myself,
+    a scientific politician, and has an eye as keen as a needle to his
+    own interest.  He has had good luck so far, and is gorgeous in the
+    spoils of many gulls; but I think the Polar Basin and Walrus Company
+    will be too much for him yet.  There has been a splendid outlay on
+    credit, and he is the only man, of the original parties concerned, of
+    whom his Majesty’s sheriffs could give any account.
+
+    “I will not ask you to come here.  There is no husband for you.  The
+    men smoke, drink, and fight, and break more of their own heads than
+    of girls’ hearts.  Those among them who are musical, sing nothing but
+    psalms.  They are excellent fellows in their way, but you would not
+    like them.
+
+    “_Au reste_, here are no rents, no taxes, no poor-rates, no tithes,
+    no church establishment, no routs, no clubs, no rotten boroughs, no
+    operas, no concerts, no theatres, no beggars, no thieves, no king, no
+    lords, no ladies, and only one gentleman, videlicet, your loving
+    father,
+
+                                                      “TIMOTHY TOUCHANDGO.
+
+    “P.S.—I send you one of my notes; I can afford to part with it.  If
+    you are accused of receiving money from me, you may pay it over to my
+    assignees.  Robthetill continues to be my factotum; I say no more of
+    him in this place: he will give you an account of himself.”
+
+                                             “_Dotandcarryonetown_, _etc._
+
+    “DEAR MISS,
+
+    “Mr. Touchandgo will have told you of our arrival here, of our
+    setting up a bank, and so forth.  We came here in a tilted waggon,
+    which served us for parlour, kitchen, and all.  We soon got up a
+    log-house; and, unluckily, we as soon got it down again, for the
+    first fire we made in it burned down house and all.  However, our
+    second experiment was more fortunate; and we are pretty well lodged
+    in a house of three rooms on a floor; I should say the floor, for
+    there is but one.
+
+    “This new state is free to hold slaves; all the new states have not
+    this privilege: Mr. Touchandgo has bought some, and they are building
+    him a villa.  Mr. Touchandgo is in a thriving way, but he is not
+    happy here: he longs for parties and concerts, and a seat in
+    Congress.  He thinks it very hard that he cannot buy one with his own
+    coinage, as he used to do in England.  Besides, he is afraid of the
+    Regulators, who, if they do not like a man’s character, wait upon him
+    and flog him, doubling the dose at stated intervals, till he takes
+    himself off.  He does not like this system of administering justice:
+    though I think he has nothing to fear from it.  He has the character
+    of having money, which is the best of all characters here, as at
+    home.  He lets his old English prejudices influence his opinions of
+    his new neighbours; but, I assure you, they have many virtues.
+    Though they do keep slaves, they are all ready to fight for their own
+    liberty; and I should not like to be an enemy within reach of one of
+    their rifles.  When I say enemy, I include bailiff in the term.  One
+    was shot not long ago.  There was a trial; the jury gave two dollars
+    damages; the judge said they must find guilty or not guilty; but the
+    counsel for the defendant (they would not call him prisoner) offered
+    to fight the judge upon the point: and as this was said literally,
+    not metaphorically, and the counsel was a stout fellow, the judge
+    gave in. The two dollars damages were not paid after all; for the
+    defendant challenged the foreman to box for double or quits, and the
+    foreman was beaten.  The folks in New York made a great outcry about
+    it, but here it was considered all as it should be.  So you see,
+    Miss, justice, liberty, and everything else of that kind, are
+    different in different places, just as suits the convenience of those
+    who have the sword in their own hands.  Hoping to hear of your health
+    and happiness, I remain,
+
+                                         “Dear Miss, your dutiful servant,
+                                                    “RODERICK ROBTHETILL.”
+
+Miss Touchandgo replied as follows to the first of these letters:
+
+    “MY DEAR FATHER,
+
+    “I am sure you have the best of hearts, and I have no doubt you have
+    acted with the best intentions.  My lover, or, I should rather say,
+    my fortune’s lover, has indeed forsaken me.  I cannot say I did not
+    feel it; indeed, I cried very much; and the altered looks of people
+    who used to be so delighted to see me, really annoyed me so, that I
+    determined to change the scene altogether.  I have come into Wales,
+    and am boarding with a farmer and his wife.  Their stock of English
+    is very small; but I managed to agree with them, and they have four
+    of the sweetest children I ever saw, to whom I teach all I know, and
+    I manage to pick up some Welsh.  I have puzzled out a little song,
+    which I think very pretty; I have translated it into English, and I
+    send it you, with the original air.  You shall play it on your flute
+    at eight o’clock every Saturday evening, and I will play and sing it
+    at the same time, and I will fancy that I hear my dear papa
+    accompanying me.
+
+    “The people in London said very unkind things of you: they hurt me
+    very much at the time; but now I am out of their way, I do not seem
+    to think their opinion of much consequence.  I am sure, when I
+    recollect, at leisure, everything I have seen and heard among them, I
+    cannot make out what they do that is so virtuous, as to set them up
+    for judges of morals.  And I am sure they never speak the truth about
+    anything, and there is no sincerity in either their love or their
+    friendship.  An old Welsh bard here, who wears a waistcoat
+    embroidered with leeks, and is called the Green Bard of Cadeir Idris,
+    says the Scotch would be the best people in the world, if there was
+    nobody but themselves to give them a character: and so I think would
+    the Londoners.  I hate the very thought of them, for I do believe
+    they would have broken my heart, if I had not got out of their way.
+    Now I shall write you another letter very soon, and describe to you
+    the country, and the people, and the children, and how I amuse
+    myself, and everything that I think you will like to hear about: and
+    when I seal this letter, I shall drop a kiss on the cover.
+
+                            “Your loving daughter,
+
+                                                     “SUSANNAH TOUCHANDGO.
+
+    “P.S.—Tell Mr. Robthetill I will write to him in a day or two.  This
+    is the little song I spoke of:
+
+    “Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,
+    My heart is gone, far, far from me;
+    And ever on its track will flee
+    My thoughts, my dreams, beyond the sea.
+
+    “Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,
+    The swallow wanders fast and free;
+    Oh, happy bird! were I like thee,
+    I, too, would fly beyond the sea.
+
+    “Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,
+    Are kindly hearts and social glee:
+    But here for me they may not be;
+    My heart is gone beyond the sea.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+THE MOUNTAIN INN.
+
+
+    ‘Ως ἡδὺ τῴ μισοῦτι τοὺς φαύλους πρόπους
+    ’Ερημία.
+
+    How sweet to minds that love not sordid ways
+    Is solitude!—MENANDER.
+
+THE Captain wandered despondingly up and down hill for several days,
+passing many hours of each in sitting on rocks; making, almost
+mechanically, sketches of waterfalls, and mountain pools; taking care,
+nevertheless, to be always before nightfall in a comfortable inn, where,
+being a temperate man, he whiled away the evening with making a bottle of
+sherry into negus.  His rambles brought him at length into the interior
+of Merionethshire, the land of all that is beautiful in nature, and all
+that is lovely in woman.
+
+Here, in a secluded village, he found a little inn, of small pretension
+and much comfort.  He felt so satisfied with his quarters, and discovered
+every day so much variety in the scenes of the surrounding mountains,
+that his inclination to proceed farther diminished progressively.
+
+It is one thing to follow the high road through a country, with every
+principally remarkable object carefully noted down in a book, taking, as
+therein directed, a guide, at particular points, to the more recondite
+sights: it is another to sit down on one chosen spot, especially when the
+choice is unpremeditated, and from thence, by a series of explorations,
+to come day by day on unanticipated scenes.  The latter process has many
+advantages over the former; it is free from the disappointment which
+attends excited expectation, when imagination has outstripped reality,
+and from the accidents that mar the scheme of the tourist’s single day,
+when the valleys may be drenched with rain, or the mountains shrouded
+with mist.
+
+The Captain was one morning preparing to sally forth on his usual
+exploration, when he heard a voice without, inquiring for a guide to the
+ruined castle.  The voice seemed familiar to him, and going forth into
+the gateway, he recognised Mr. Chainmail.  After greetings and inquiries
+for the absent: “You vanished very abruptly, Captain,” said Mr.
+Chainmail, “from our party on the canal.”
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—To tell you the truth, I had a particular reason
+for trying the effect of absence from a part of that party.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—I surmised as much: at the same time, the unusual
+melancholy of an in general most vivacious young lady made me wonder at
+your having acted so precipitately.  The lady’s heart is yours, if there
+be truth in signs.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Hearts are not now what they were in the days of
+the old song: “Will love be controlled by advice?”
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Very true; hearts, heads, and arms have all degenerated,
+most sadly.  We can no more feel the high impassioned love of the ages,
+which some people have the impudence to call dark, than we can wield King
+Richard’s battleaxe, bend Robin Hood’s bow, or flourish the oaken graft
+of the Pindar of Wakefield.  Still we have our tastes and feelings,
+though they deserve not the name of passions; and some of us may pluck up
+spirit to try to carry a point, when we reflect that we have to contend
+with men no better than ourselves.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—We do not now break lances for ladies.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—No; nor even bulrushes.  We jingle purses for them,
+flourish paper-money banners, and tilt with scrolls of parchment.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—In which sort of tilting I have been thrown from
+the saddle.  I presume it was not love that led you from the flotilla?
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—By no means.  I was tempted by the sight of an old
+tower, not to leave this land of ruined castles, without having collected
+a few hints for the adornment of my baronial hall.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—I understand you live _en famille_ with your
+domestics.  You will have more difficulty in finding a lady who would
+adopt your fashion of living, than one who would prefer you to a richer
+man.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Very true.  I have tried the experiment on several as
+guests; but once was enough for them: so, I suppose, I shall die a
+bachelor.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—I see, like some others of my friends, you will
+give up anything except your hobby.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—I will give up anything but my baronial hall.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—You will never find a wife for your purpose, unless
+in the daughter of some old-fashioned farmer.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—No, I thank you.  I must have a lady of gentle blood; I
+shall not marry below my own condition: I am too much of a herald; I have
+too much of the twelfth century in me for that.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Why, then your chance is not much better than mine.
+A well-born beauty would scarcely be better pleased with your baronial
+hall than with my more humble offer of love in a cottage.  She must have
+a town-house, and an opera-box, and roll about the streets in a carriage;
+especially if her father has a rotten borough, for the sake of which he
+sells his daughter, that he may continue to sell his country.  But you
+were inquiring for a guide to the ruined castle in this vicinity; I know
+the way and will conduct you.
+
+The proposal pleased Mr. Chainmail, and they set forth on their
+expedition.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+THE LAKE—THE RUIN.
+
+
+    Or vieni, Amore, e quà meco t’assetta.
+
+                                                       ORLANDO INNAMORATO.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Would it not be a fine thing, Captain, you being
+picturesque, and I poetical; you being for the lights and shadows of the
+present, and I for those of the past; if we were to go together over the
+ground which was travelled in the twelfth century by Giraldus de Barri,
+when he accompanied Archbishop Baldwin to preach the crusade?
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Nothing, in my present frame of mind, could be more
+agreeable to me.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—We would provide ourselves with his _Itinerarium_;
+compare what has been, with what is; contemplate in their decay the
+castles and abbeys, which he saw in their strength and splendour; and,
+while you were sketching their remains, I would dispassionately inquire
+what has been gained by the change.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Be it so.
+
+But the scheme was no sooner arranged, than the Captain was summoned to
+London by a letter on business, which he did not expect to detain him
+long.  Mr. Chainmail, who, like the Captain, was fascinated with the inn
+and the scenery, determined to await his companion’s return; and, having
+furnished him with a list of books, which he was to bring with him from
+London, took leave of him, and began to pass his days like the heroes of
+Ariosto, who
+
+    —tutto il giorno, al bel oprar intenti,
+    Saliron balze, e traversar torrenti.
+
+One day Mr. Chainmail traced upwards the course of a mountain stream to a
+spot where a small waterfall threw itself over a slab of perpendicular
+rock, which seemed to bar his farther progress.  On a nearer view, he
+discovered a flight of steps, roughly hewn in the rock, on one side of
+the fall.  Ascending these steps, he entered a narrow winding pass,
+between high and naked rocks, that afforded only space for a rough
+footpath, carved on one side, at some height above the torrent.
+
+The pass opened on a lake, from which the stream issued, and which lay
+like a dark mirror, set in a gigantic frame of mountain precipices.
+Fragments of rock lay scattered on the edge of the lake, some half-buried
+in the water: Mr. Chainmail scrambled some way over these fragments, till
+the base of a rock sinking abruptly in the water, effectually barred his
+progress.  He sat down on a large smooth stone; the faint murmur of the
+stream he had quitted, the occasional flapping of the wings of the heron,
+and at long intervals, the solitary springing of a trout, were the only
+sounds that came to his ear.  The sun shone brightly half-way down the
+opposite rocks, presenting, on their irregular faces, strong masses of
+light and shade.  Suddenly he heard the dash of a paddle, and, turning
+his eyes, saw a solitary and beautiful girl gliding over the lake in a
+coracle: she was proceeding from the vicinity of the point he had
+quitted, towards the upper end of the lake.  Her apparel was rustic, but
+there was in its style something more _recherchée_, in its arrangement
+something more of elegance and precision, than was common to the mountain
+peasant girl.  It had more of the _contadina_ of the opera, than of the
+genuine mountaineer; so at least thought Mr. Chainmail; but she passed so
+rapidly, and took him so much by surprise, that he had little opportunity
+for accurate observation.  He saw her land, at the farther extremity, and
+disappear among the rocks: he rose from his seat, returned to the mouth
+of the pass, stepped from stone to stone across the stream, and attempted
+to pass round by the other side of the lake; but there again the abruptly
+sinking precipice closed his way.
+
+Day after day he haunted the spot, but never saw again either the damsel
+or the coracle.  At length, marvelling at himself for being so solicitous
+about the apparition of a peasant girl in a coracle, who could not, by
+any possibility, be anything to him, he resumed his explorations in
+another direction.
+
+One day he wandered to the ruined castle, on the sea-shore, which was not
+very distant from his inn; and sitting on the rock, near the base of the
+ruin, was calling up the forms of past ages on the wall of an ivied
+tower, when on its summit appeared a female figure, whom he recognised in
+an instant for his nymph of the coracle.  The folds of the blue gown
+pressed by the sea-breeze against one of the most symmetrical of figures,
+the black feather of the black hat, and the ringleted hair beneath it
+fluttering in the wind; the apparent peril of her position, on the edge
+of the mouldering wall, from whose immediate base the rock went down
+perpendicularly to the sea, presented a singularly interesting
+combination to the eye of the young antiquary.
+
+Mr. Chainmail had to pass half round the castle, on the land side, before
+he could reach the entrance: he coasted the dry and bramble-grown moat,
+crossed the unguarded bridge, passed the unportcullised arch of the
+gateway, entered the castle court, ascertained the tower, ascended the
+broken stairs, and stood on the ivied wall.  But the nymph of the place
+was gone.  He searched the ruins within and without, but he found not
+what he sought: he haunted the castle day after day, as he had done the
+lake, but the damsel appeared no more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+THE DINGLE.
+
+
+    The stars of midnight shall be dear
+    To her, and she shall lean her ear
+    In many a secret place,
+    Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
+    And beauty, born of murmuring sound,
+    Shall pass into her face.—WORDSWORTH.
+
+MISS SUSANNAH TOUCHANDGO had read the four great poets of Italy, and many
+of the best writers of France.  About the time of her father’s downfall,
+accident threw into her way _Les Réveries du Promeneur Solitaire_; and
+from the impression which these made on her, she carried with her into
+retirement all the works of Rousseau.  In the midst of that startling
+light, which the conduct of old friends on a sudden reverse of fortune
+throws on a young and inexperienced mind, the doctrines of the
+philosopher of Geneva struck with double force upon her sympathies: she
+imbibed the sweet poison, as somebody calls it, of his writings, even to
+a love of truth; which, every wise man knows, ought to be left to those
+who can get anything by it.  The society of children, the beauties of
+nature, the solitude of the mountains, became her consolation, and, by
+degrees, her delight.  The gay society from which she had been excluded,
+remained on her memory only as a disagreeable dream.  She imbibed her new
+monitor’s ideas of simplicity of dress, assimilating her own with that of
+the peasant-girls in the neighbourhood: the black hat, the blue gown, the
+black stockings, the shoes, tied on the instep.
+
+Pride was, perhaps, at the bottom of the change: she was willing to
+impose in some measure on herself, by marking a contemptuous indifference
+to the characteristics of the class of society from which she had fallen.
+
+    And with the food of pride sustained her soul
+    In solitude.
+
+It is true that she somewhat modified the forms of her rustic dress: to
+the black hat she added a black feather, to the blue gown she added a
+tippet, and a waistband fastened in front with a silver buckle; she wore
+her black stockings very smooth and tight on her ankles, and tied her
+shoes in tasteful bows, with the nicest possible ribbon.  In this
+apparel, to which, in winter, she added a scarlet cloak, she made
+dreadful havoc among the rustic mountaineers, many of whom proposed to
+“keep company” with her in the Cambrian fashion, an honour which, to
+their great surprise, she always declined.  Among these, Harry
+Ap-Heather, whose father rented an extensive sheepwalk, and had a
+thousand she-lambs wandering in the mountains, was the most strenuous in
+his suit, and the most pathetic in his lamentations for her cruelty.
+
+Miss Susannah often wandered among the mountains alone, even to some
+distance from the farmhouse.  Sometimes she descended into the bottom of
+the dingles, to the black rocky beds of the torrents, and dreamed away
+hours at the feet of the cataracts.  One spot in particular, from which
+she had at first shrunk with terror, became by degrees her favourite
+haunt.  A path turning and returning at acute angles, led down a steep
+wood-covered slope to the edge of a chasm, where a pool, or resting-place
+of a torrent, lay far below.  A cataract fell in a single sheet into the
+pool; the pool boiled and bubbled at the base of the fall, but through
+the greater part of its extent, lay calm, deep, and black, as if the
+cataract had plunged through it to an unimaginable depth, without
+disturbing its eternal repose.  At the opposite extremity of the pool,
+the rocks almost met at their summits, the trees of the opposite banks
+intermingled their leaves, and another cataract plunged from the pool
+into a chasm, on which the sunbeams never gleamed.  High above, on both
+sides, the steep woody slopes of the dingle soared into the sky; and from
+a fissure in the rock, on which the little path terminated, a single
+gnarled and twisted oak stretched itself over the pool, forming a fork
+with its boughs at a short distance from the rock.  Miss Susannah often
+sat on the rock, with her feet resting on this tree; in time, she made
+her seat on the tree itself, with her feet hanging over the abyss; and at
+length, she accustomed herself to lie along upon its trunk, with her side
+on the mossy bole of the fork, and an arm round one of the branches.
+From this position a portion of the sky and the woods was reflected in
+the pool, which, from its bank, was but a mass of darkness.  The first
+time she reclined in this manner, her heart beat audibly; in time she lay
+down as calmly as on the mountain heather; the perception of the sublime
+was probably heightened by an intermingled sense of danger; and perhaps
+that indifference to life, which early disappointment forces upon
+sensitive minds, was necessary to the first experiment.  There was, in
+the novelty and strangeness of the position, an excitement which never
+wholly passed away, but which became gradually subordinate to the
+influence, at once tranquillising and elevating, of the mingled eternity
+of motion, sound, and solitude.
+
+One sultry noon, she descended into this retreat with a mind more than
+usually disturbed by reflections on the past.  She lay in her favourite
+position, sometimes gazing on the cataract; looking sometimes up the
+steep sylvan acclivities, into the narrow space of the cloudless ether;
+sometimes down into the abyss of the pool, and the deep bright-blue
+reflections that opened another immensity below her.  The distressing
+recollections of the morning, the world and all its littlenesses, faded
+from her thoughts like a dream; but her wounded and wearied spirit drank
+in too deeply the tranquillising power of the place, and she dropped
+asleep upon the tree like a ship-boy on the mast.
+
+At this moment Mr. Chainmail emerged into daylight, on a projection of
+the opposite rock, having struck down through the woods in search of
+unsophisticated scenery.  The scene he discovered filled him with
+delight: he seated himself on the rock, and fell into one of his romantic
+reveries; when suddenly the semblance of a black hat and feather caught
+his eye among the foliage of the projecting oak.  He started up, shifted
+his position, and got a glimpse of a blue gown.  It was his lady of the
+lake, his enchantress of the ruined castle, divided from him by a barrier
+which, at a few yards below, he could almost overleap, yet unapproachable
+but by a circuit perhaps of many hours.  He watched with intense anxiety.
+To listen if she breathed was out of the question: the noses of a dean
+and chapter would have been soundless in the roar of the torrent.  From
+her extreme stillness, she appeared to sleep: yet what creature, not
+desperate, would go wilfully to sleep in such a place?  Was she asleep,
+then?  Nay, was she alive?  She was as motionless as death.  Had she been
+murdered, thrown from above, and caught in the tree?  She lay too
+regularly and too composedly for such a supposition.  She was asleep,
+then, and, in all probability, her waking would be fatal.  He shifted his
+position.  Below the pool two beetle-browed rocks nearly overarched the
+chasm, leaving just such a space at the summit as was within the
+possibility of a leap; the torrent roared below in a fearful gulf.  He
+paused some time on the brink, measuring the practicability and the
+danger, and casting every now and then an anxious glance to his sleeping
+beauty.  In one of these glances he saw a slight movement of the blue
+gown, and, in a moment after, the black hat and feather dropped into the
+pool.  Reflection was lost for a moment, and, by a sudden impulse, he
+bounded over the chasm.
+
+He stood above the projecting oak; the unknown beauty lay like the nymph
+of the scene; her long black hair, which the fall of her hat had
+disengaged from its fastenings, drooping through the boughs: he saw that
+the first thing to be done, was to prevent her throwing her feet off the
+trunk, in the first movements of waking.  He sat down on the rock, and
+placed his feet on the stem, securing her ankles between his own: one of
+her arms was round a branch of the fork, the other lay loosely on her
+side.  The hand of this arm he endeavoured to reach, by leaning forward
+from his seat; he approximated, but could not touch it: after several
+tantalising efforts, he gave up the point in despair.  He did not attempt
+to wake her, because he feared it might have bad consequences, and he
+resigned himself to expect the moment of her natural waking, determined
+not to stir from his post, if she should sleep till midnight.
+
+In this period of forced inaction, he could contemplate at leisure the
+features and form of his charmer.  She was not one of the slender
+beauties of romance; she was as plump as a partridge; her cheeks were two
+roses, not absolutely damask, yet verging thereupon; her lips
+twin-cherries, of equal size; her nose regular, and almost Grecian; her
+forehead high, and delicately fair; her eyebrows symmetrically arched;
+her eyelashes, long, black, and silky, fitly corresponding with the
+beautiful tresses that hung among the leaves of the oak, like clusters of
+wandering grapes.  Her eyes were yet to be seen; but how could he doubt
+that their opening would be the rising of the sun, when all that
+surrounded their fringy portals was radiant as “the forehead of the
+morning sky?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+THE FARM.
+
+
+    Da ydyw’r gwaith, rhaid d’we’yd y gwir,
+    Ar fryniau Sir Meirionydd;
+    Golwg oer o’r gwaela gawn
+    Mae hi etto yn llawn llawenydd.
+
+    Though Meirion’s rocks, and hills of heath,
+       Repel the distant sight,
+    Yet where, than those bleak hills beneath,
+       Is found more true delight?
+
+AT length the young lady awoke.  She was startled at the sudden sight of
+the stranger, and somewhat terrified at the first perception of her
+position.  But she soon recovered her self-possession, and, extending her
+hand to the offered hand of Mr. Chainmail, she raised herself up on the
+tree, and stepped on the rocky bank.
+
+Mr. Chainmail solicited permission to attend her to her home, which the
+young lady graciously conceded.  They emerged from the woody dingle,
+traversed an open heath, wound along a mountain road by the shore of a
+lake, descended to the deep bed of another stream, crossed it by a series
+of stepping-stones, ascended to some height on the opposite side, and
+followed upwards the line of the stream, till the banks opened into a
+spacious amphitheatre, where stood, in its fields and meadows, the
+farmhouse of Ap-Llymry.
+
+During this walk, they had kept up a pretty animated conversation.  The
+lady had lost her hat, and, as she turned towards Mr. Chainmail, in
+speaking to him, there was no envious projection of brim to intercept the
+beams of those radiant eyes he had been so anxious to see unclosed.
+There was in them a mixture of softness and brilliancy, the perfection of
+the beauty of female eyes, such as some men have passed through life
+without seeing, and such as no man ever saw, in any pair of eyes, but
+once; such as can never be seen and forgotten.  Young Crotchet had seen
+it; he had not forgotten it; but he had trampled on its memory, as the
+renegade tramples on the emblems of a faith which his interest only, and
+not his heart or his reason, has rejected.
+
+Her hair streamed over her shoulders; the loss of the black feather had
+left nothing but the rustic costume, the blue gown, the black stockings,
+and the ribbon-tied shoes.  Her voice had that full soft volume of melody
+which gives to common speech the fascination of music.  Mr. Chainmail
+could not reconcile the dress of the damsel with her conversation and
+manners.  He threw out a remote question or two, with the hope of solving
+the riddle, but, receiving no reply, he became satisfied that she was not
+disposed to be communicative respecting herself, and, fearing to offend
+her, fell upon other topics.  They talked of the scenes of the mountains,
+of the dingle, the ruined castle, the solitary lake.  She told him, that
+lake lay under the mountains behind her home, and the coracle and the
+pass at the extremity, saved a long circuit to the nearest village,
+whither she sometimes went to inquire for letters.
+
+Mr. Chainmail felt curious to know from whom these letters might be; and
+he again threw out two or three fishing questions, to which, as before,
+he obtained no answer.
+
+The only living biped they met in their walk was the unfortunate Harry
+Ap-Heather, with whom they fell in by the stepping-stones, who, seeing
+the girl of his heart hanging on another man’s arm, and, concluding at
+once that they were “keeping company,” fixed on her a mingled look of
+surprise, reproach, and tribulation; and, unable to control his feelings
+under the sudden shock, burst into a flood of tears, and blubbered till
+the rocks re-echoed.
+
+They left him mingling his tears with the stream, and his lamentations
+with its murmurs.  Mr. Chainmail inquired who that strange creature might
+be, and what was the matter with him.  The young lady answered, that he
+was a very worthy young man, to whom she had been the innocent cause of
+much unhappiness.
+
+“I pity him sincerely,” said Mr. Chainmail and, nevertheless, he could
+scarcely restrain his laughter at the exceedingly original figure which
+the unfortunate rustic lover had presented by the stepping-stones.
+
+The children ran out to meet their dear Miss Susan, jumped all round her,
+and asked what was become of her hat.  Ap-Llymry came out in great haste,
+and invited Mr. Chainmail to walk in and dine: Mr. Chainmail did not wait
+to be asked twice.  In a few minutes the whole party, Miss Susan and Mr.
+Chainmail, Mr. and Mrs. Ap-Llymry, and progeny, were seated over a clean
+homespun table cloth, ornamented with fowls and bacon, a pyramid of
+potatoes, another of cabbage, which Ap-Llymry said “was poiled with the
+pacon, and as coot as marrow,” a bowl of milk for the children, and an
+immense brown jug of foaming ale, with which Ap-Llymry seemed to delight
+in filling the horn of his new guest.
+
+Shall we describe the spacious apartment, which was at once kitchen,
+hall, and dining-room,—the large dark rafters, the pendent bacon and
+onions, the strong old oaken furniture, the bright and trimly-arranged
+utensils?  Shall we describe the cut of Ap-Llymry’s coat, the colour and
+tie of his neckcloth, the number of buttons at his knees,—the structure
+of Mrs. Ap-Llymry’s cap, having lappets over the ears, which were united
+under the chin, setting forth especially whether the bond of union were a
+pin or a ribbon?  We shall leave this tempting field of interesting
+expatiation to those whose brains are high-pressure steam-engines for
+spinning prose by the furlong, to be trumpeted in paid-for paragraphs in
+the quack’s corner of newspapers: modern literature having attained the
+honourable distinction of sharing, with blacking and Macassar oil, the
+space which used to be monopolised by razor-strops and the lottery;
+whereby that very enlightened community, the reading public, is tricked
+into the perusal of much exemplary nonsense; though the few who see
+through the trickery have no reason to complain, since as “good wine
+needs no bush,” so, _ex vi oppositi_, these bushes of venal panegyric
+point out very clearly that the things they celebrate are not worth
+reading.
+
+The party dined very comfortably in a corner most remote from the fire:
+and Mr. Chainmail very soon found his head swimming with two or three
+horns of ale, of a potency to which even he was unaccustomed.  After
+dinner Ap-Llymry made him finish a bottle of mead, which he willingly
+accepted, both as an excuse to remain and as a drink of the dark ages,
+which he had no doubt was a genuine brewage from uncorrupted tradition.
+
+In the meantime, as soon as the cloth was removed, the children had
+brought out Miss Susannah’s harp.  She began, without affectation, to
+play and sing to the children, as was her custom of an afternoon, first
+in their own language, and their national melodies, then in English; but
+she was soon interrupted by a general call of little voices for “Ouf! di
+giorno.”  She complied with the request, and sang the ballad from Paër’s
+_Camilla_: “Un dì carco il mulinaro.”  The children were very familiar
+with every syllable of this ballad, which had been often fully explained
+to them.  They danced in a circle with the burden of every verse,
+shouting out the chorus with good articulation and joyous energy; and at
+the end of the second stanza, where the traveller has his nose pinched by
+his grandmother’s ghost, every nose in the party was nipped by a pair of
+little fingers.  Mr. Chainmail, who was not prepared for the process,
+came in for a very energetic tweak from a chubby girl that sprang
+suddenly on his knees for the purpose, and made the roof ring with her
+laughter.
+
+So passed the time till evening, when Mr. Chainmail moved to depart.  But
+it turned out on inquiry that he was some miles from his inn, that the
+way was intricate, and that he must not make any difficulty about
+accepting the farmer’s hospitality till morning.  The evening set in with
+rain: the fire was found agreeable; they drew around it.  The young lady
+made tea; and afterwards, from time to time, at Mr. Chainmail’s special
+request, delighted his ear with passages of ancient music.  Then came a
+supper of lake trout, fried on the spot, and thrown, smoking hot, from
+the pan to the plate.  Then came a brewage, which the farmer called his
+nightcap, of which he insisted on Mr. Chainmail’s taking his full share.
+After which the gentleman remembered nothing till he awoke, the next
+morning, to the pleasant consciousness that he was under the same roof
+with one of the most fascinating creatures under the canopy of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+THE NEWSPAPER.
+
+
+    Ποίας δ’ ἀποσπασθεῖσα φύτλυς
+    ’Ορέων κευθμῶνας ἔχει σκιοέντων;
+
+    Sprung from what line, adorns the maid
+    These, valleys deep in mountain-shade?
+
+                                                          PIND. _Pyth._ IX
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL forgot the Captain and the route of Giraldus de Barri.  He
+became suddenly satisfied that the ruined castle in his present
+neighbourhood was the best possible specimen of its class, and that it
+was needless to carry his researches further.
+
+He visited the farm daily: found himself always welcome; flattered
+himself that the young lady saw him with pleasure, and dragged a heavier
+chain at every new parting from Miss Susan, as the children called his
+nymph of the mountains.  What might be her second name, he had vainly
+endeavoured to discover.
+
+Mr. Chainmail was in love: but the determination he had long before
+formed and fixed in his mind, to marry only a lady of gentle blood,
+without a blot in her escutcheon, repressed the declarations of passion
+which were often rising to his lips.  In the meantime he left no means
+untried to pluck out the heart of her mystery.
+
+The young lady soon divined his passion, and penetrated his prejudices.
+She began to look on him with favourable eyes; but she feared her name
+and parentage would present an insuperable barrier to his feudal pride.
+
+Things were in this state when the Captain returned, and unpacked his
+maps and books in the parlour of the inn.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Really, Captain, I find so many objects of attraction in
+this neighbourhood, that I would gladly postpone our purpose.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Undoubtedly this neighbourhood has many
+attractions; but there is something very inviting in the scheme you laid
+down.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—No doubt there is something very tempting in the route
+of Giraldus de Barri.  But there are better things in this vicinity even
+than that.  To tell you the truth, Captain, I have fallen in love.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—What! while I have been away?
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Even so.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—The plunge must have been very sudden, if you are
+already over head and ears.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—As deep as Llyn-y-dreiddiad-vrawd.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—And what may that be?
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—A pool not far off: a resting-place of a mountain stream
+which is said to have no bottom.  There is a tradition connected with it;
+and here is a ballad on it, at your service.
+
+                           LLYN-Y-DREIDDIAD-VRAWD.
+                        THE POOL OF THE DIVING FRIAR.
+
+    Gwenwynwyn withdrew from the feasts of his hall:
+    He slept very little, he prayed not at all:
+    He pondered, and wandered, and studied alone;
+    And sought, night and day, the philosopher’s stone.
+
+    He found it at length, and he made its first proof
+    By turning to gold all the lead of his roof:
+    Then he bought some magnanimous heroes, all fire,
+    Who lived but to smite and be smitten for hire.
+
+    With these on the plains like a torrent he broke;
+    He filled the whole country with flame and with smoke;
+    He killed all the swine, and he broached all the wine;
+    He drove off the sheep, and the beeves, and the kine;
+
+    He took castles and towns; he cut short limbs and lives;
+    He made orphans and widows of children and wives:
+    This course many years he triumphantly ran,
+    And did mischief enough to be called a great man.
+
+    When, at last, he had gained all for which he held striven,
+    He bethought him of buying a passport to heaven;
+    Good and great as he was, yet he did not well know,
+    How soon, or which way, his great spirit might go.
+
+    He sought the grey friars, who beside a wild stream,
+    Refected their frames on a primitive scheme;
+    The gravest and wisest Gwenwynwyn found out,
+    All lonely and ghostly, and angling for trout.
+
+    Below the white dash of a mighty cascade,
+    Where a pool of the stream a deep resting-place made,
+    And rock-rooted oaks stretched their branches on high,
+    The friar stood musing, and throwing his fly.
+
+    To him said Gwenwynwyn, “Hold, father, here’s store,
+    For the good of the church, and the good of the poor;”
+    Then he gave him the stone; but, ere more he could speak,
+    Wrath came on the friar, so holy and meek.
+
+    He had stretched forth his hand to receive the red gold,
+    And he thought himself mocked by Gwenwynwyn the Bold;
+    And in scorn of the gift, and in rage at the giver,
+    He jerked it immediately into the river.
+
+    Gwenwynwyn, aghast, not a syllable spake;
+    The philosopher’s stone made a duck and a drake;
+    Two systems of circles a moment were seen,
+    And the stream smoothed them off, as they never had been.
+
+    Gwenwynwyn regained, and uplifted his voice,
+    “Oh friar, grey friar, full rash was thy choice;
+    The stone, the good stone, which away thou hast thrown,
+    Was the stone of all stones, the philosopher’s stone.”
+
+    The friar looked pale, when his error he knew;
+    The friar looked red, and the friar looked blue;
+    And heels over head, from the point of a rock,
+    He plunged, without stopping to pull off his frock.
+
+    He dived very deep, but he dived all in vain,
+    The prize he had slighted he found not again;
+    Many times did the friar his diving renew,
+    And deeper and deeper the river still grew.
+
+    Gwenwynwyn gazed long, of his senses in doubt,
+    To see the grey friar a diver so stout;
+    Then sadly and slowly his castle he sought,
+    And left the friar diving, like dabchick distraught.
+
+    Gwenwynwyn fell sick with alarm and despite,
+    Died, and went to the devil, the very same night;
+    The magnanimous heroes he held in his pay
+    Sacked his castle, and marched with the plunder away.
+
+    No knell on the silence of midnight was rolled
+    For the flight of the soul of Gwenwynwyn the Bold.
+    The brethren, unfeed, let the mighty ghost pass,
+    Without praying a prayer, or intoning a mass.
+
+    The friar haunted ever beside the dark stream;
+    The philosopher’s stone was his thought and his dream:
+    And day after day, ever head under heels
+    He dived all the time he could spare from his meals.
+
+    He dived, and he dived, to the end of his days,
+    As the peasants oft witnessed with fear and amaze.
+    The mad friar’s diving-place long was their theme,
+    And no plummet can fathom that pool of the stream.
+
+    And still, when light clouds on the midnight winds ride,
+    If by moonlight you stray on the lone river-side,
+    The ghost of the friar may be seen diving there,
+    With head in the water, and heels in the air.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Well, your ballad is very pleasant: you shall show
+me the scene, and I will sketch it; but just now I am more interested
+about your love.  What heroine of the twelfth century has risen from the
+ruins of the old castle, and looked down on you from the ivied
+battlements?
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—You are nearer the mark than you suppose.  Even from
+those battlements a heroine of the twelfth century has looked down on me.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Oh! some vision of an ideal beauty.  I suppose the
+whole will end in another tradition and a ballad.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Genuine flesh and blood; as genuine as Lady Clarinda.  I
+will tell you the story.
+
+Mr. Chainmail narrated his adventures.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Then you seem to have found what you wished.
+Chance has thrown in your way what none of the gods would have ventured
+to promise you.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Yes, but I know nothing of her birth and parentage.  She
+tells me nothing of herself, and I have no right to question her
+directly.
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—She appears to be expressly destined for the light
+of your baronial hall.  Introduce me in this case, two heads are better
+than one.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—No, I thank you.  Leave me to manage my chance of a
+prize, and keep you to your own chance of a—
+
+_Captain Fitzchrome_.—Blank.  As you please.  Well, I will pitch my tent
+here, till I have filled my portfolio, and shall be glad of as much of
+your company as you can spare from more attractive society.
+
+Matters went on pretty smoothly for several days, when an unlucky
+newspaper threw all into confusion.  Mr. Chainmail received newspapers by
+the post, which came in three times a week.  One morning, over their
+half-finished breakfast, the Captain had read half a newspaper very
+complacently, when suddenly he started up in a frenzy, hurled over the
+breakfast table, and, bouncing from the apartment, knocked down Harry Ap
+Heather, who was coming in at the door to challenge his supposed rival to
+a boxing-match.
+
+Harry sprang up, in a double rage, and intercepted Mr. Chainmail’s
+pursuit of the Captain, placing himself in the doorway, in a pugilistic
+attitude.  Mr. Chainmail, not being disposed for this mode of combat,
+stepped back into the parlour, took the poker in his right hand, and
+displacing the loose bottom of a large elbow chair, threw it over his
+left arm as a shield.  Harry, not liking the aspect of the enemy in this
+imposing attitude, retreated with backward steps into the kitchen, and
+tumbled over a cur, which immediately fastened on his rear.
+
+Mr. Chainmail, half-laughing, half-vexed, anxious to overtake the
+Captain, and curious to know what was the matter with him, pocketed the
+newspaper, and sallied forth, leaving Harry roaring for a doctor and
+tailor, to repair the lacerations of his outward man.
+
+Mr. Chainmail could find no trace of the Captain.  Indeed, he sought him
+but in one direction, which was that leading to the farm; where he
+arrived in due time, and found Miss Susan alone.  He laid the newspaper
+on the table, as was his custom, and proceeded to converse with the young
+lady: a conversation of many pauses, as much of signs as of words.  The
+young lady took up the paper, and turned it over and over, while she
+listened to Mr. Chainmail, whom she found every day more and more
+agreeable, when suddenly her eye glanced on something which made her
+change colour, and dropping the paper on the ground, she rose from her
+seat, exclaiming: “Miserable must she be who trusts any of your faithless
+sex! never, never, never, will I endure such misery twice.”  And she
+vanished up the stairs.  Mr. Chainmail was petrified.  At length, he
+cried aloud: “Cornelius Agrippa must have laid a spell on this accursed
+newspaper;” and was turning it over, to look for the source of the
+mischief, when Mrs. Ap Llymry made her appearance.
+
+_Mrs. Ap Llymry_.—What have you done to poor dear Miss Susan? she is
+crying ready to break her heart.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—So help me the memory of Richard Coeur-de-Lion, I have
+not the most distant notion of what is the matter.
+
+_Mrs. Ap Llymry_.—Oh, don’t tell me, sir; you must have ill-used her.  I
+know how it is.  You have been keeping company with her, as if you wanted
+to marry her; and now, all at once, you have been insulting her.  I have
+seen such tricks more than once, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—My dear madam, you wrong me utterly.  I have none but
+the kindest feelings and the most honourable purposes towards her.  She
+has been disturbed by something she has seen in this rascally paper.
+
+_Mrs. Ap Llymry_.—Why, then, the best thing you can do is to go away, and
+come again tomorrow.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Not I, indeed, madam.  Out of this house I stir not,
+till I have seen the young lady, and obtained a full explanation.
+
+_Mrs. Ap Llymry_.—I will tell Miss Susan what you say.  Perhaps she will
+come down.
+
+Mr. Chainmail sat with as much patience as he could command, running over
+the paper, from column to column.  At length he lighted on an
+announcement of the approaching marriage of Lady Clarinda Bossnowl with
+Mr. Crotchet the younger.  This explained the Captain’s discomposure, but
+the cause of Miss Susan’s was still to be sought: he could not know that
+it was one and the same.
+
+Presently, the sound of the longed-for step was heard on the stairs; the
+young lady reappeared, and resumed her seat: her eyes showed that she had
+been weeping.  The gentleman was now exceedingly puzzled how to begin,
+but the young lady relieved him by asking, with great simplicity: “What
+do you wish to have explained, sir?”
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—I wish, if I may be permitted, to explain myself to you.
+Yet could I first wish to know what it was that disturbed you in this
+unlucky paper.  Happy should I be if I could remove the cause of your
+inquietude!
+
+_Miss Susannah_.—The cause is already removed.  I saw something that
+excited painful recollections; nothing that I could now wish otherwise
+than as it is.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Yet, may I ask why it is that I find one so accomplished
+living in this obscurity, and passing only by the name of Miss Susan?
+
+_Miss Susannah_.—The world and my name are not friends.  I have left the
+world, and wish to remain for ever a stranger to all whom I once knew in
+it.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—You can have done nothing to dishonour your name.
+
+_Miss Susannah_.—No, sir.  My father has done that of which the world
+disapproves, in matters of which I pretend not to judge.  I have suffered
+for it as I will never suffer again.  My name is my own secret: I have no
+other, and that is one not worth knowing.  You see what I am, and all I
+am.  I live according to the condition of my present fortune, and here,
+so living, I have found tranquillity.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Yet, I entreat you, tell me your name.
+
+_Miss Susannah_.—Why, sir?
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Why, but to throw my hand, my heart, my fortune, at your
+feet, if—.
+
+_Miss Susannah_.—If my name be worthy of them.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Nay, nay, not so; if your hand and heart are free.
+
+_Miss Susannah_.—My hand and heart are free; but they must be sought from
+myself, and not from my name.
+
+She fixed her eyes on him, with a mingled expression of mistrust, of
+kindness, and of fixed resolution, which the far-gone _inamorato_ found
+irresistible.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Then from yourself alone I seek them.
+
+_Miss Susannah_.—Reflect. You have prejudices on the score of parentage.
+I have not conversed with you so often without knowing what they are.
+Choose between them and me.  I too have my own prejudices on the score of
+personal pride.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—I would choose you from all the world, were you even the
+daughter of the _exécuteur des hautes œuvres_, as the heroine of a
+romantic story I once read turned out to be.
+
+_Miss Susannah_.—I am satisfied.  You have now a right to know my
+history, and if you repent, I absolve you from all obligations.
+
+She told him her history; but he was out of the reach of repentance.  “It
+is true,” as at a subsequent period he said to the captain, “she is the
+daughter of a money-changer: one who, in the days of Richard the First,
+would have been plucked by the beard in the streets: but she is,
+according to modern notions, a lady of gentle blood.  As to her father’s
+running away, that is a minor consideration: I have always understood,
+from Mr. Mac Quedy, who is a great oracle in this way, that promises to
+pay ought not to be kept; the essence of a safe and economical currency
+being an interminable series of broken promises.  There seems to be a
+difference among the learned as to the way in which the promises ought to
+be broken; but I am not deep enough in this casuistry to enter into such
+nice distinctions.”
+
+In a few days there was a wedding, a pathetic leave-taking of the
+farmer’s family, a hundred kisses from the bride to the children, and
+promises twenty times reclaimed and renewed, to visit them in the ensuing
+year.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+THE INVITATION.
+
+
+    A cup of wine, that’s brisk and fine,
+    And drink unto the lemon mine.
+
+                                                         _Master Silence_.
+
+THIS veridicous history began in May, and the occurrences already
+narrated have carried it on to the middle of autumn.  Stepping over the
+interval to Christmas, we find ourselves in our first locality, among the
+chalk hills of the Thames; and we discover our old friend, Mr. Crotchet,
+in the act of accepting an invitation, for himself, and any friends who
+might be with him, to pass their Christmas Day at Chainmail Hall, after
+the fashion of the twelfth century.  Mr. Crochet had assembled about him,
+for his own Christmas festivities, nearly the same party which was
+introduced to the reader in the spring.  Three of that party were
+wanting.  Dr. Morbific, by inoculating himself once too often with
+non-contagious matter, had explained himself out of the world.  Mr.
+Henbane had also departed, on the wings of an infallible antidote.  Mr.
+Eavesdrop, having printed in a magazine some of the after-dinner
+conversations of the castle, had had sentence of exclusion passed upon
+him, on the motion of the Reverend Doctor Folliott, as a flagitious
+violator of the confidences of private life.
+
+Miss Crotchet had become Lady Bossnowl, but Lady Clarinda had not yet
+changed her name to Crotchet.  She had, on one pretence and another,
+procrastinated the happy event, and the gentleman had not been very
+pressing; she had, however, accompanied her brother and sister-in-law, to
+pass Christmas at Crotchet Castle.  With these, Mr. Mac Quedy, Mr.
+Philpot, Mr. Trillo, Mr. Skionar, Mr. Toogood, and Mr. Firedamp were
+sitting at breakfast, when the Reverend Doctor Folliott entered and took
+his seat at the table.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Well, Mr. Mac Quedy, it is now some weeks since
+we have met: how goes on the march of mind?
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Nay, sir; I think you may see that with your own eyes.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Sir, I have seen it, much to my discomfiture.
+It has marched into my rickyard, and set my stacks on fire, with chemical
+materials, most scientifically compounded.  It has marched up to the door
+of my vicarage, a hundred and fifty strong; ordered me to surrender half
+my tithes; consumed all the provisions I had provided for my audit feast,
+and drunk up my old October.  It has marched in through my back-parlour
+shutters, and out again with my silver spoons, in the dead of the night.
+The policeman who has been down to examine says my house has been broken
+open on the most scientific principles.  All this comes of education.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—I rather think it comes of poverty.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No, sir.  Robbery, perhaps, comes of poverty,
+but scientific principles of robbery come of education.  I suppose the
+learned friend has written a sixpenny treatise on mechanics, and the
+rascals who robbed me have been reading it.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Your house would have been very safe, Doctor, if they had
+had no better science than the learned friend’s to work with.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Well, sir, that may be.  Excellent potted char.
+The Lord deliver me from the learned friend.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—Well, Doctor, for your comfort, here is a declaration of
+the learned friend’s that he will never take office.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Then, sir, he will be in office next week.
+Peace be with him.  Sugar and cream.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—But, Doctor, are you for Chainmail Hall on Christmas Day?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—That am I, for there will be an excellent
+dinner, though, peradventure, grotesquely served.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—I have not seen my neighbour since he left us on the
+canal.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—He has married a wife, and brought her home.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Indeed!  If she suits him, she must be an oddity: it
+will be amusing to see them together.
+
+_Lord Bossnowl_.—Very amusing.  He! He!  Mr. Firedamp.  Is there any
+water about Chainmail Hall?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—An old moat.
+
+_Mr. Firedamp_.—I shall die of malaria.
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—Shall we have any music?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—An old harper.
+
+_Mr. Trillo_.—Those fellows are always horridly out of tune.  What will
+he play?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Old songs and marches.
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—Among so many old things, I hope we shall find Old
+Philosophy.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—An old woman.
+
+_Mr. Philpot_.—Perhaps an old map of the river in the twelfth century.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No doubt.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—How many more old things?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Old hospitality; old wine; old ale; all the
+images of old England; an old butler.
+
+_Mr. Toogood_.—Shall we all be welcome?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Heartily; you will be slapped on the shoulder,
+and called Old Boy.
+
+_Lord Bossnowl_.—I think we should all go in our old clothes.  He! He!
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—You will sit on old chairs, round an old table,
+by the light of old lamps, suspended from pointed arches, which, Mr.
+Chainmail says, first came into use in the twelfth century, with old
+armour on the pillars and old banners in the roof.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—And what curious piece of antiquity is the lady of the
+mansion?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No antiquity there; none.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Who was she?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—That I know not.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Have you seen her?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I have.
+
+_Lady Clarinda_.—Is she pretty?
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—More,—beautiful.  A subject for the pen of
+Nonnus or the pencil of Zeuxis.  Features of all loveliness, radiant with
+all virtue and intelligence.  A face for Antigone.  A form at once plump
+and symmetrical, that, if it be decorous to divine it by externals, would
+have been a model for the Venus of Cnidos.  Never was anything so goodly
+to look on, the present company excepted; and poor dear Mrs. Folliott.
+She reads moral philosophy, Mr. Mac Quedy, which indeed she might as well
+let alone; she reads Italian poetry, Mr. Skionar; she sings Italian
+music, Mr. Trillo; but, with all this, she has the greatest of female
+virtues, for she superintends the household and looks after her husband’s
+dinner.  I believe she was a mountaineer: Ηαρθένος ὀυρεσίφοιτος, ἐρήμαδι
+σύντροφος ὕλῃ {175} as Nonnus sweetly sings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+CHAINMAIL HALL.
+
+
+    Vous autres dictes que ignorance est mère de tous maulx, et dictes
+    vray: mais toutesfoys vous ne la bannissez mye de vos entendemens, et
+    vivez en elle, avecques elle, et par elle.  C’est pourquoy tant de
+    maulx vous meshaignent de jour en jour.—RABELIAS, 1. 5. c. 7.
+
+THE party which was assembled on Christmas Day in Chainmail Hall
+comprised all the guests of Crotchet Castle, some of Mr. Chainmail’s
+other neighbours, all his tenants and domestics, and Captain Fitzchrome.
+The hall was spacious and lofty; and with its tall fluted pillars and
+pointed arches, its windows of stained glass, its display of arms and
+banners intermingled with holly and mistletoe, its blazing cressets and
+torches, and a stupendous fire in the centre, on which blocks of pine
+were flaming and crackling, had a striking effect on eyes unaccustomed to
+such a dining-room.  The fire was open on all sides, and the smoke was
+caught and carried back under a funnel-formed canopy into a hollow
+central pillar.  This fire was the line of demarcation between gentle and
+simple on days of high festival.  Tables extended from it on two sides to
+nearly the end of the hall.
+
+Mrs. Chainmail was introduced to the company.  Young Crotchet felt some
+revulsion of feeling at the unexpected sight of one whom he had forsaken,
+but not forgotten, in a condition apparently so much happier than his
+own.  The lady held out her hand to him with a cordial look of more than
+forgiveness; it seemed to say that she had much to thank him for.  She
+was the picture of a happy bride, _rayonnante de joie et d’amour_.
+
+Mr. Crotchet told the Reverend Doctor Folliott the news of the morning.
+“As you predicted,” he said, “your friend, the learned friend, is in
+office; he has also a title; he is now Sir Guy de Vaux.”
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Thank heaven for that! he is disarmed from
+further mischief.  It is something, at any rate, to have that hollow and
+wind-shaken reed rooted up for ever from the field of public delusion.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—I suppose, Doctor, you do not like to see a great
+reformer in office; you are afraid for your vested interests.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Not I, indeed, sir; my vested interests are very
+safe from all such reformers as the learned friend.  I vaticinate what
+will be the upshot of all his schemes of reform.  He will make a speech
+of seven hours’ duration, and this will be its quintessence: that, seeing
+the exceeding difficulty of putting salt on the bird’s tail, it will be
+expedient to consider the best method of throwing dust in the bird’s
+eyes.  All the rest will be
+
+    Τιτιτιτιτιμπρο.
+    Ποποποί, ποποποί
+    Τιοτιοτιοτιοτιοτίγξ.
+    Κικκαβαῦ, κικκαβαῦ.
+    Τοροτοροτοροτορολιλιλίγξ,
+
+as Aristophanes has it; and so I leave him, in Nephelococcygia.
+
+Mr. Mac Quedy came up to the divine as Mr. Crotchet left him, and said:
+“There is one piece of news which the old gentleman has not told you.
+The great firm of Catchflat and Company, in which young Crotchet is a
+partner, has stopped payment.”
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Bless me! that accounts for the young
+gentleman’s melancholy.  I thought they would overreach themselves with
+their own tricks.  The day of reckoning, Mr. Mac Quedy, is the point
+which your paper-money science always leaves out of view.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—I do not see, sir, that the failure of Catchflat and
+Company has anything to do with my science.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—It has this to do with it, sir, that you would
+turn the whole nation into a great paper-money shop, and take no thought
+of the day of reckoning.  But the dinner is coming.  I think you, who are
+so fond of paper promises, should dine on the bill of fare.
+
+The harper at the head of the hall struck up an ancient march, and the
+dishes were brought in, in grand procession.
+
+The boar’s head, garnished with rosemary, with a citron in its mouth, led
+the van.  Then came tureens of plum-porridge; then a series of turkeys,
+and in the midst of them an enormous sausage, which it required two men
+to carry.  Then came geese and capons, tongues and hams, the ancient
+glory of the Christmas pie, a gigantic plum pudding, a pyramid of mince
+pies, and a baron of beef bringing up the rear.
+
+“It is something new under the sun,” said the divine, as he sat down, “to
+see a great dinner without fish.”
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Fish was for fasts in the twelfth century.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Well, sir, I prefer our reformed system of
+putting fasts and feasts together.  Not but here is ample indemnity.
+
+Ale and wine flowed in abundance.  The dinner passed off merrily: the old
+harper playing all the while the oldest music in his repertory.  The
+tables being cleared, he indemnified himself for lost time at the lower
+end of the hall, in company with the old butler and the other domestics,
+whose attendance on the banquet had been indispensable.
+
+The scheme of Christmas gambols, which Mr. Chainmail had laid for the
+evening, was interrupted by a tremendous clamour without.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—What have we here?  Mummers?
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Nay, I know not.  I expect none.
+
+“Who is there?” he added, approaching the door of the hall.
+
+“Who is there?” vociferated the divine, with the voice of Stentor.
+
+“Captain Swing,” replied a chorus of discordant voices.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Ho, ho! here is a piece of the dark ages we did
+not bargain for.  Here is the Jacquerie.  Here is the march of mind with
+a witness.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Do you not see that you have brought disparates
+together? the Jacquerie and the march of mind.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Not at all, sir.  They are the same thing, under
+different names.  Πολλῶν ονομάτων μορφὴ μία.  What was Jacquerie in the
+dark ages is the march of mind in this very enlightened one—very
+enlightened one.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—The cause is the same in both; poverty in despair.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Very likely; but the effect is extremely disagreeable.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—It is the natural result, Mr. Mac Quedy, of that
+system of state seamanship which your science upholds.  Putting the crew
+on short allowance, and doubling the rations of the officers, is the sure
+way to make a mutiny on board a ship in distress, Mr. Mac Quedy.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Eh! sir, I uphold no such system as that.  I shall set
+you right as to cause and effect.  Discontent arises with the increase of
+information.  That is all.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I said it was the march of mind.  But we have
+not time for discussing cause and effect now.  Let us get rid of the
+enemy.
+
+And he vociferated at the top of his voice, “What do you want here?”
+“Arms, arms,” replied a hundred voices, “Give us the arms.”
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—You see, Mr. Chainmail, this is the
+inconvenience of keeping an armoury not fortified with sand bags, green
+bags, and old bags of all kinds.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Just give them the old spits and toasting irons, and
+they will go away quietly.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—My spears and swords! not without my life.  These
+assailants are all aliens to my land and house.  My men will fight for
+me, one and all.  This is the fortress of beef and ale.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Eh! sir, when the rabble is up, it is very
+indiscriminating.  You are e’en suffering for the sins of Sir Simon
+Steeltrap and the like, who have pushed the principle of accumulation a
+little too far.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—The way to keep the people down is kind and liberal
+usage.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—That is very well (where it can be afforded) in the way
+of prevention; but in the way of cure the operation must be more drastic.
+(Taking down a battle-axe.)  I would fain have a good blunderbuss charged
+with slugs.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—When I suspended these arms for ornament, I never
+dreamed of their being called into use.
+
+_Mr. Skionar_.—Let me address them.  I never failed to convince an
+audience that the best thing they could do was to go away.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Eh! sir, I can bring them to that conclusion in less
+time than you.
+
+_Mr. Crotchet_.—I have no fancy for fighting.  It is a very hard case
+upon a guest, when the latter end of a feast is the beginning of a fray.
+
+_Mr. Mac Quedy_.—Give them the old iron.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Give them the weapons!  _Pessimo_, _medius
+fidius_, _exemplo_.  Forbid it the spirit of _Frère Jean des
+Entommeures_!  No! let us see what the church militant, in the armour of
+the twelfth century, will do against the march of mind.  Follow me who
+will, and stay who list.  Here goes: _Pro aris et focis_! that is, for
+tithe pigs and fires to roast them.
+
+He clapped a helmet on his head, seized a long lance, threw open the
+gates, and tilted out on the rabble, side by side with Mr. Chainmail,
+followed by the greater portion of the male inmates of the hall, who had
+armed themselves at random.
+
+The rabble-rout, being unprepared for such a sortie, fled in all
+directions, over hedge and ditch.
+
+Mr. Trillo stayed in the hall, playing a march on the harp, to inspirit
+the rest to sally out.  The water-loving Mr. Philpot had diluted himself
+with so much wine as to be quite _hors de combat_.  Mr. Toogood,
+intending to equip himself in purely defensive armour, contrived to slip
+a ponderous coat of mail over his shoulders, which pinioned his arms to
+his sides; and in this condition, like a chicken trussed for roasting, he
+was thrown down behind a pillar in the first rush of the sortie.  Mr.
+Crotchet seized the occurrence as a pretext for staying with him, and
+passed the whole time of the action in picking him out of his shell.
+
+“Phew!” said the divine, returning; “an inglorious victory; but it
+deserves a devil and a bowl of punch.”
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—A wassail-bowl.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No, sir.  No more of the twelfth century for me.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Nay, Doctor.  The twelfth century has backed you well.
+Its manners and habits, its community of kind feelings between master and
+man, are the true remedy for these ebullitions.
+
+_Mr. Toogood_.—Something like it: improved by my diagram: arts for arms.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—No wassail-bowl for me.  Give me an
+unsophisticated bowl of punch, which belongs to that blissful middle
+period, after the Jacquerie was down, and before the march of mind was
+up.  But, see, who is floundering in the water?
+
+Proceeding to the edge of the moat, they fished up Mr. Firedamp, who had
+missed his way back, and tumbled in.  He was drawn out, exclaiming, “that
+he had taken his last dose of malaria in this world.”
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Tut, man; dry clothes, a turkey’s leg and rump,
+well devilled, and a quart of strong punch, will set all to rights.
+
+“Wood embers,” said Mr. Firedamp, when he had been accommodated with a
+change of clothes, “there is no antidote to malaria like the smoke of
+wood embers; pine embers.”  And he placed himself, with his mouth open,
+close by the fire.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—Punch, sir, punch: there is no antidote like
+punch.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—Well, Doctor, you shall be indulged.  But I shall have
+my wassail-bowl, nevertheless.
+
+An immense bowl of spiced wine, with roasted apples hissing on its
+surface, was borne into the hall by four men, followed by an empty bowl
+of the same dimensions, with all the materials of arrack punch, for the
+divine’s especial brewage.  He accinged himself to the task with his
+usual heroism, and having finished it to his entire satisfaction,
+reminded his host to order in the devil.
+
+_The Rev. Dr. Folliott_.—I think, Mr. Chainmail, we can amuse ourselves
+very well here all night.  The enemy may be still excubant: and we had
+better not disperse till daylight.  I am perfectly satisfied with my
+quarters.  Let the young folk go on with their gambols; let them dance to
+your old harper’s minstrelsy; and if they please to kiss under the
+mistletoe, whereof I espy a goodly bunch suspended at the end of the
+hall, let those who like it not leave it to those who do.  Moreover, if
+among the more sedate portion of the assembly, which, I foresee, will
+keep me company, there were any to revive the good old custom of singing
+after supper, so to fill up the intervals of the dances, the steps of
+night would move more lightly.
+
+_Mr. Chainmail_.—My Susan will set the example, after she has set that of
+joining in the rustic dance, according to good customs long departed.
+
+After the first dance, in which all classes of the company mingled, the
+young lady of the mansion took her harp, and following the reverend
+gentleman’s suggestion, sang a song of the twelfth century.
+
+                           FLORENCE AND BLANCHFLOR.
+
+    Florence and Blanchflor, loveliest maids,
+       Within a summer grove,
+    Amid the flower-enamelled shades
+       Together talked of love.
+
+    A clerk sweet Blanchflor’s heart had gain’d;
+       Fair Florence loved a knight:
+    And each with ardent voice maintained
+       She loved the worthiest wight.
+
+    Sweet Blanchflor praised her scholar dear,
+       As courteous, kind, and true!
+    Fair Florence said her chevalier
+       Could every foe subdue.
+
+    And Florence scorned the bookworm vain,
+       Who sword nor spear could raise;
+    And Blanchflor scorned the unlettered brain
+       Could sing no lady’s praise.
+
+    From dearest love, the maidens bright
+       To deadly hatred fell,
+    Each turned to shun the other’s sight,
+       And neither said farewell.
+
+    The king of birds, who held his court
+       Within that flowery grove,
+    Sang loudly: “’Twill be rare disport
+       To judge this suit of love.”
+
+    Before him came the maidens bright,
+       With all his birds around,
+    To judge the cause, if clerk or knight
+       In love be worthiest found.
+
+    The falcon and the sparrow-hawk
+       Stood forward for the fight:
+    Ready to do, and not to talk,
+       They voted for the knight.
+
+    And Blanchflor’s heart began to fail,
+       Till rose the strong-voiced lark,
+    And, after him, the nightingale,
+       And pleaded for the clerk.
+
+    The nightingale prevailed at length,
+       Her pleading had such charms;
+    So eloquence can conquer strength,
+       And arts can conquer arms.
+
+    The lovely Florence tore her hair,
+       And died upon the place;
+    And all the birds assembled there
+       Bewailed the mournful case.
+
+    They piled up leaves and flowerets rare
+       Above the maiden bright,
+    And sang: “Farewell to Florence fair,
+       Who too well loved her knight.”
+
+Several others of the party sang in the intervals of the dances.  Mr.
+Chainmail handed to Mr. Trillo another ballad of the twelfth century, of
+a merrier character than the former.  Mr. Trillo readily accommodated it
+with an air, and sang:
+
+                      THE PRIEST AND THE MULBERRY TREE.
+
+    Did you hear of the curate who mounted his mare,
+    And merrily trotted along to the fair?
+    Of creature more tractable none ever heard;
+    In the height of her speed she would stop at a word,
+    And again with a word, when the curate said Hey,
+    She put forth her mettle, and galloped away.
+
+    As near to the gates of the city he rode,
+    While the sun of September all brilliantly glowed,
+    The good priest discovered, with eyes of desire,
+    A mulberry tree in a hedge of wild briar,
+    On boughs long and lofty, in many a green shoot,
+    Hung large, black, and glossy, the beautiful fruit.
+
+    The curate was hungry, and thirsty to boot;
+    He shrunk from the thorns, though he longed for the fruit;
+    With a word he arrested his courser’s keen speed,
+    And he stood up erect on the back of his steed;
+    On the saddle he stood, while the creature stood still,
+    And he gathered the fruit, till he took his good fill.
+
+    “Sure never,” he thought, “was a creature so rare,
+    So docile, so true, as my excellent mare.
+    Lo, here, how I stand” (and he gazed all around),
+    “As safe and as steady as if on the ground,
+    Yet how had it been, if some traveller this way,
+    Had, dreaming no mischief, but chanced to cry Hey?”
+
+    He stood with his head in the mulberry tree,
+    And he spoke out aloud in his fond reverie.
+    At the sound of the word, the good mare made a push,
+    And down went the priest in the wild-briar bush.
+    He remembered too late, on his thorny green bed,
+    Much that well may be thought cannot wisely be said.
+
+Lady Clarinda, being prevailed on to take the harp in her turn, sang the
+following stanzas.
+
+    In the days of old,
+    Lovers felt true passion,
+    Deeming years of sorrow
+    By a smile repaid.
+    Now the charms of gold,
+    Spells of pride and fashion,
+    Bid them say good morrow
+    To the best-loved maid.
+
+    Through the forests wild,
+    O’er the mountains lonely,
+    They were never weary
+    Honour to pursue.
+    If the damsel smiled
+    Once in seven years only,
+    All their wanderings dreary
+    Ample guerdon knew.
+
+    Now one day’s caprice
+    Weighs down years of smiling,
+    Youthful hearts are rovers,
+    Love is bought and sold:
+    Fortune’s gifts may cease,
+    Love is less beguiling;
+    Wisest were the lovers
+    In the days of old.
+
+The glance which she threw at the captain, as she sang the last verse,
+awakened his dormant hopes.  Looking round for his rival, he saw that he
+was not in the hall; and, approaching the lady of his heart, he received
+one of the sweetest smiles of their earlier days.
+
+After a time, the ladies, and all the females of the party, retired.  The
+males remained on duty with punch and wassail, and dropped off one by one
+into sweet forgetfulness; so that when the rising sun of December looked
+through the painted windows on mouldering embers and flickering lamps,
+the vaulted roof was echoing to a mellifluous concert of noses, from the
+clarionet of the waiting-boy at one end of the hall, to the double bass
+of the Reverend Doctor, ringing over the empty punch-bowl, at the other.
+
+
+
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+FROM this eventful night, young Crotchet was seen no more on English
+mould.  Whither he had vanished was a question that could no more be
+answered in his case than in that of King Arthur after the battle of
+Camlan.  The great firm of Catchflat and Company figured in the Gazette,
+and paid sixpence in the pound; and it was clear that he had shrunk from
+exhibiting himself on the scene of his former greatness, shorn of the
+beams of his paper prosperity.  Some supposed him to be sleeping among
+the undiscoverable secrets of some barbel-pool in the Thames; but those
+who knew him best were more inclined to the opinion that he had gone
+across the Atlantic, with his pockets full of surplus capital, to join
+his old acquaintance, Mr. Touchandgo, in the bank of Dotandcarryonetown.
+
+Lady Clarinda was more sorry for her father’s disappointment than her
+own; but she had too much pride to allow herself to be put up a second
+time in the money-market; and when the Captain renewed his assiduities,
+her old partiality for him, combining with a sense of gratitude for a
+degree of constancy which she knew she scarcely deserved, induced her,
+with Lord Foolincourt’s hard-wrung consent, to share with him a more
+humble, but less precarious fortune, than that to which she had been
+destined as the price of a rotten borough.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES.
+
+
+{175}  A mountain-wandering maid,
+Twin-nourished with the solitary wood.
+
+
+
+
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+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Crotchet Castle, by Thomas Love Peacock,
+Edited by Henry Morley
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: Crotchet Castle
+
+
+Author: Thomas Love Peacock
+
+Editor: Henry Morley
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2014  [eBook #2075]
+[This file was first posted on 20 June 1999]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROTCHET CASTLE***
+</pre>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell &amp; Company edition by
+David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span
+class="GutSmall">CASSELL&rsquo;S NATIONAL LIBRARY.</span></p>
+
+<div class="gapshortline">&nbsp;</div>
+<h1>CROTCHET CASTLE</h1>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br
+/>
+THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/tpb.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"Decorative graphic"
+title=
+"Decorative graphic"
+ src="images/tps.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL &amp; COMPANY, Limited:<br
+/>
+<span class="GutSmall"><i>LONDON</i></span><span
+class="GutSmall">, </span><span
+class="GutSmall"><i>PARIS</i></span><span class="GutSmall">,
+</span><span class="GutSmall"><i>NEW YORK &amp;
+MELBOURNE</i></span><span class="GutSmall">.</span><br />
+1887.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Love Peacock</span> was born at
+Weymouth in 1785.&nbsp; His first poem, &ldquo;The Genius of the
+Thames,&rdquo; was in its second edition when he became one of
+the friends of Shelley.&nbsp; That was in 1812, when
+Shelley&rsquo;s age was twenty, Peacock&rsquo;s
+twenty-seven.&nbsp; The acquaintance strengthened, until Peacock
+became the friend in whose judgment Shelley put especial
+trust.&nbsp; There were many points of agreement.&nbsp; Peacock,
+at that time, shared, in a more practical way, Shelley&rsquo;s
+desire for root and branch reform; both wore poets, although not
+equally gifted, and both loved Plato and the Greek
+tragedians.&nbsp; In &ldquo;Crotchet Castle&rdquo; Peacock has
+expressed his own delight in Greek literature through the talk of
+the Reverend Dr. Folliott.</p>
+<p>But Shelley&rsquo;s friendship for Peacock included a trust in
+him that was maintained by points of unlikeness.&nbsp; Peacock
+was shrewd and witty.&nbsp; He delighted in extravagance of a
+satire which usually said more than it meant, but always rested
+upon a foundation of good sense.&nbsp; Then also there was a
+touch of the poet to give grace to the utterances of a
+clear-headed man of the world.&nbsp; It was Peacock who gave its
+name to Shelley&rsquo;s poem of &ldquo;Alastor, or the Spirit of
+Solitude,&rdquo; published in 1816.&nbsp; The &ldquo;Spirit of
+Solitude&rdquo; being treated as a spirit of evil, Peacock
+suggested calling it &ldquo;Alastor,&rdquo; since the Greek
+&#7936;&lambda;&#8049;&sigma;&tau;&omega;&rho; means an evil
+genius.</p>
+<p>Peacock&rsquo;s novels are unlike those of other men: they are
+the genuine expressions of an original and independent
+mind.&nbsp; His reading and his thinking ran together; there is
+free quotation, free play of wit and satire, grace of invention
+too, but always unconventional.&nbsp; The story is always
+pleasant, although always secondary to the play of thought for
+which it gives occasion.&nbsp; He quarrelled with verse,
+whimsically but in all seriousness, in an article on &ldquo;The
+Four Ages of Poetry,&rdquo; contributed in 1820 to a short-lived
+journal, &ldquo;Ollier&rsquo;s Literary Miscellany.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The four ages were, he said, the iron age, the Bardic; the
+golden, the Homeric; the silver, the Virgilian; and the brass, in
+which he himself lived.&nbsp; &ldquo;A poet in our time,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;is a semi-barbarian in a civilised community . .
+. The highest inspirations of poetry are resolvable into three
+ingredients: the rant of unregulated passion, the whining of
+exaggerated feeling, and the cant of factitious sentiment; and
+can, therefore, serve only to ripen a splendid lunatic like
+Alexander, a puling driveller like Werter, or a morbid dreamer
+like Wordsworth.&rdquo;&nbsp; In another part of this essay he
+says: &ldquo;While the historian and the philosopher are
+advancing in and accelerating the progress of knowledge, the poet
+is wallowing in the rubbish of departed ignorance, and raking up
+the ashes of dead savages to find gewgaws and rattles for the
+grown babies of the age.&nbsp; Mr. Scott digs up the poacher and
+cattle-stealers of the ancient Border.&nbsp; Lord Byron cruises
+for thieves and pirates on the shores of the Morea and among the
+Greek islands.&nbsp; Mr. Southey wades through ponderous volumes
+of travels and old chronicles, from which he carefully selects
+all that is false, useless, and absurd, as being essentially
+poetical; and when he has a commonplace book full of
+monstrosities, strings them into an epic.&rdquo;&nbsp; And so
+forth; Peacock going on to characterise, in further illustration
+of his argument, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Moore, and
+Campbell.&nbsp; He did not refer to Shelley; and Shelley read his
+friend&rsquo;s whimsical attack on poetry with all good humour,
+proceeding to reply to it with a &ldquo;Defence of Poetry,&rdquo;
+which would have appeared in the same journal, if the journal had
+survived.&nbsp; In this novel of &ldquo;Crotchet Castle&rdquo;
+there is the same good-humoured exaggeration in the treatment of
+&ldquo;our learned friend&rdquo;&mdash;Lord Brougham&mdash;to
+whom and to whose labours for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge
+there are repeated allusions.&nbsp; In one case Peacock
+associates the labours of &ldquo;our learned friend&rdquo; for
+the general instruction of the masses with encouragement of
+robbery (page 172), and in another with body-snatching, or,
+worse,&mdash;murder for dissection (page 99).&nbsp; &ldquo;The
+Lord deliver me from the learned friend!&rdquo; says Dr.
+Folliott.&nbsp; Brougham&rsquo;s elevation to a peerage in
+November, 1830, as Lord Brougham and Vaux, is referred to on page
+177, where he is called Sir Guy do Vaux.&nbsp; It is not to be
+forgotten, in the reading, that this story was written in 1831,
+the year before the passing of the Reform Bill.&nbsp; It ends
+with a scene suggested by the agricultural riots of that
+time.&nbsp; In the ninth chapter, again, there is a passage
+dealing with Sir Walter Scott after the fashion of the criticisms
+in the &ldquo;Four Ages of Poetry.&rdquo;&nbsp; But this critical
+satire gave nobody pain.&nbsp; Always there was a ground-work of
+good sense, and the broad sweep of the satire was utterly unlike
+the nibbling censure of the men whose wit is tainted with
+ill-humour.&nbsp; We may see also that the poet&rsquo;s nature
+cannot be expelled.&nbsp; In this volume we should find the touch
+of a poet&rsquo;s hand in the tale itself when dealing with the
+adventures of Mr. Chainmail, while he stays at the Welsh mountain
+inn, if the story did not again and again break out into actual
+song, for it includes half-a-dozen little poems.</p>
+<p>When Peacock wrote his attack on Poetry, he had, only two
+years before, produced a poem of his
+own&mdash;&ldquo;Rhododaphne&rdquo;&mdash;with a Greek fancy of
+the true and the false love daintily worked out.&nbsp; It was his
+chief work in verse, and gave much pleasure to a few, among them
+his friend Shelley.&nbsp; But he felt that, as the world went, he
+was not strong enough to help it by his singing, so he confined
+his writing to the novels, in which he could speak his mind in
+his own way, while doing his duty by his country in the East
+India House, where he obtained a post in 1818.&nbsp; From 1836 to
+1856, when he retired on a pension, he was Examiner of India
+Correspondence.&nbsp; Peacock died in 1866, aged eighty-one.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">H. M.</p>
+<p><span class="smcap">Note</span> that in this tale Mac Quedy is
+Mac Q. E. D., son of a demonstration; Mr. Skionar, the
+transcendentalist, is named from Ski(as) onar, the dream of a
+shadow; and Mr. Philpot,&mdash;who loves rivers, is
+Phil(o)pot(amos).</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE VILLA.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p><i>Captain Jamy</i>.&nbsp; I wad full fain hear
+some question &rsquo;tween you tway.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Henry</span>
+V.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> one of those beautiful valleys,
+through which the Thames (not yet polluted by the tide, the
+scouring of cities, or even the minor defilement of the sandy
+streams of Surrey) rolls a clear flood through flowery meadows,
+under the shade of old beech woods, and the smooth mossy
+greensward of the chalk hills (which pour into it their tributary
+rivulets, as pure and pellucid as the fountain of Bandusium, or
+the wells of Scamander, by which the wives and daughters of the
+Trojans washed their splendid garments in the days of peace,
+before the coming of the Greeks); in one of those beautiful
+valleys, on a bold round-surfaced lawn, spotted with juniper,
+that opened itself in the bosom of an old wood, which rose with a
+steep, but not precipitous ascent, from the river to the summit
+of the hill, stood the castellated villa of a retired
+citizen.&nbsp; Ebenezer Mac Crotchet, Esquire, was the
+London-born offspring of a worthy native of the &ldquo;north
+countrie,&rdquo; who had walked up to London on a commercial
+adventure, with all his surplus capital, not very neatly tied up
+in a not very clean handkerchief, suspended over his shoulder
+from the end of a hooked stick, extracted from the first hedge on
+his pilgrimage; and who, after having worked himself a step or
+two up the ladder of life, had won the virgin heart of the only
+daughter of a highly respectable merchant of Duke&rsquo;s Place,
+with whom he inherited the honest fruits of a long series of
+ingenuous dealings.</p>
+<p>Mr. Mac Crotchet had derived from his mother the instinct, and
+from his father the rational principle, of enriching himself at
+the expense of the rest of mankind, by all the recognised modes
+of accumulation on the windy side of the law.&nbsp; After passing
+many years in the Alley, watching the turn of the market, and
+playing many games almost as desperate as that of the soldier of
+Lucullus, the fear of losing what he had so righteously gained
+predominated over the sacred thirst of paper-money; his caution
+got the better of his instinct, or rather transferred it from the
+department of acquisition to that of conservation.&nbsp; His
+friend, Mr. Ramsbottom, the zodiacal mythologist, told him that
+he had done well to withdraw from the region of Uranus or Brahma,
+the Maker, to that of Saturn or Veeshnu, the Preserver, before he
+fell under the eye of Jupiter or Seva, the Destroyer, who might
+have struck him down at a blow.</p>
+<p>It is said that a Scotchman, returning home after some
+years&rsquo; residence in England, being asked what he thought of
+the English, answered: &ldquo;They hanna ower muckle sense, but
+they are an unco braw people to live amang;&rdquo; which would be
+a very good story, if it were not rendered apocryphal by the
+incredible circumstance of the Scotchman going back.</p>
+<p>Mr. Mac Crotchet&rsquo;s experience had given him a just title
+to make, in his own person, the last-quoted observation, but he
+would have known better than to go back, even if himself, and not
+his father, had been the first comer of his line from the
+north.&nbsp; He had married an English Christian, and, having
+none of the Scotch accent, was ungracious enough to be ashamed of
+his blood.&nbsp; He was desirous to obliterate alike the Hebrew
+and Caledonian vestiges in his name, and signed himself E. M.
+Crotchet, which by degrees induced the majority of his neighbours
+to think that his name was Edward Matthew.&nbsp; The more
+effectually to sink the Mac, he christened his villa
+&ldquo;Crotchet Castle,&rdquo; and determined to hand down to
+posterity the honours of Crotchet of Crotchet.&nbsp; He found it
+essential to his dignity to furnish himself with a coat of arms,
+which, after the proper ceremonies (payment being the principal),
+he obtained, videlicet: Crest, a crotchet rampant, in A sharp;
+Arms, three empty bladders, turgescent, to show how opinions are
+formed; three bags of gold, pendent, to show why they are
+maintained; three naked swords, tranchant, to show how they are
+administered; and three barbers&rsquo; blocks, gaspant, to show
+how they are swallowed.</p>
+<p>Mr. Crotchet was left a widower, with two children; and, after
+the death of his wife, so strong was his sense of the blessed
+comfort she had been to him, that he determined never to give any
+other woman an opportunity of obliterating the happy
+recollection.</p>
+<p>He was not without a plausible pretence for styling his villa
+a castle, for, in its immediate vicinity, and within his own
+enclosed domain, were the manifest traces, on the brow of the
+hill, of a Roman station, or <i>castellum</i>, which was still
+called the &ldquo;Castle&rdquo; by the country people.&nbsp; The
+primitive mounds and trenches, merely overgrown with greensward,
+with a few patches of juniper and box on the vallum, and a
+solitary ancient beech surmounting the place of the
+pr&aelig;torium, presented nearly the same depths, heights,
+slopes, and forms, which the Roman soldiers had originally given
+them.&nbsp; From this castellum Mr. Crotchet christened his
+villa.&nbsp; With his rustic neighbours he was, of course,
+immediately and necessarily a squire: Squire Crotchet of the
+Castle; and he seemed to himself to settle down as naturally into
+an English country gentleman, as if his parentage had been as
+innocent of both Scotland and Jerusalem, as his education was of
+Rome and Athens.</p>
+<p>But as, though you expel nature with a pitch-fork, she will
+yet always come back; he could not become, like a true-born
+English squire, part and parcel of the barley-giving earth; he
+could not find in game-bagging, poacher-shooting,
+trespasser-pounding, footpath-stopping, common-enclosing,
+rack-renting, and all the other liberal pursuits and pastimes
+which make a country gentleman an ornament to the world and a
+blessing to the poor: he could not find in these valuable and
+amiable occupations, and in a corresponding range of ideas,
+nearly commensurate with that of the great King Nebuchadnezzar
+when he was turned out to grass; he could not find in this great
+variety of useful action, and vast field of comprehensive
+thought, modes of filling up his time that accorded with his
+Caledonian instinct.&nbsp; The inborn love of disputation, which
+the excitements and engagements of a life of business had
+smothered, burst forth through the calmer surface of a rural
+life.&nbsp; He grew as fain as Captain Jamy, &ldquo;to hear some
+argument betwixt ony tway,&rdquo; and being very hospitable in
+his establishment, and liberal in his invitations, a numerous
+detachment from the advanced guard of the &ldquo;march of
+intellect,&rdquo; often marched down to Crotchet Castle.</p>
+<p>When the fashionable season filled London with exhibitors of
+all descriptions, lecturers and else, Mr. Crotchet was in his
+glory; for, in addition to the perennial literati of the
+metropolis, he had the advantage of the visits of a number of
+hardy annuals, chiefly from the north, who, as the interval of
+their metropolitan flowering allowed, occasionally accompanied
+their London brethren in excursions to Crotchet Castle.</p>
+<p>Amongst other things, he took very naturally to political
+economy, read all the books on the subject which were put forth
+by his own countrymen, attended all lectures thereon, and boxed
+the technology of the sublime science as expertly as an able
+seaman boxes the compass.</p>
+<p>With this agreeable mania he had the satisfaction of biting
+his son, the hope of his name and race, who had borne off from
+Oxford the highest academical honours; and who, treading in his
+father&rsquo;s footsteps to honour and fortune, had, by means of
+a portion of the old gentleman&rsquo;s surplus capital, made
+himself a junior partner in the eminent loan-jobbing firm of
+Catchflat and Company.&nbsp; Here, in the days of paper
+prosperity, he applied his science-illumined genius to the
+blowing of bubbles, the bursting of which sent many a poor devil
+to the gaol, the workhouse, or the bottom of the river, but left
+young Crotchet rolling in riches.</p>
+<p>These riches he had been on the point of doubling, by a
+marriage with the daughter of Mr. Touchandgo, the great banker,
+when, one foggy morning, Mr. Touchandgo and the contents of his
+till were suddenly reported absent; and as the fortune which the
+young gentleman had intended to marry was not forthcoming, this
+tender affair of the heart was nipped in the bud.</p>
+<p>Miss Touchandgo did not meet the shock of separation quite so
+complacently as the young gentleman: for he lost only the lady,
+whereas she lost a fortune as well as a lover.&nbsp; Some jewels,
+which had glittered on her beautiful person as brilliantly as the
+bubble of her father&rsquo;s wealth had done in the eyes of his
+gudgeons, furnished her with a small portion of paper-currency;
+and this, added to the contents of a fairy purse of gold, which
+she found in her shoe on the eventful morning when Mr. Touchandgo
+melted into thin air, enabled her to retreat into North Wales,
+where she took up her lodging in a farm-house in Merionethshire,
+and boarded very comfortably for a trifling payment, and the
+additional consideration of teaching English, French, and music,
+to the little Ap-Llymrys.&nbsp; In the course of this occupation
+she acquired sufficient knowledge of Welsh to converse with the
+country people.</p>
+<p>She climbed the mountains, and descended the dingles, with a
+foot which daily habit made by degrees almost as steady as a
+native&rsquo;s.&nbsp; She became the nymph of the scene; and if
+she sometimes pined in thought for her faithless Strephon, her
+melancholy was anything but green and yellow: it was as genuine
+white and red as occupation, mountain air, thyme-fed mutton,
+thick cream, and fat bacon could make it: to say nothing of an
+occasional glass of double X, which Ap-Llymry, who yielded to no
+man west of the Wrekin in brewage, never failed to press upon her
+at dinner and supper.&nbsp; He was also earnest, and sometimes
+successful, in the recommendation of his mead, and most
+pertinacious on winter nights in enforcing a trial of the virtues
+of his elder wine.&nbsp; The young lady&rsquo;s personal
+appearance, consequently, formed a very advantageous contrast to
+that of her quondam lover, whose physiognomy the intense
+anxieties of his bubble-blowing days, notwithstanding their
+triumphant result, had left blighted, sallowed, and
+crow&rsquo;s-footed, to a degree not far below that of the fallen
+spirit who, in the expressive language of German romance, is
+described as &ldquo;scathed by the ineradicable traces of the
+thunderbolts of Heaven;&rdquo; so that, contemplating their
+relative geological positions, the poor deserted damsel was
+flourishing on slate, while her rich and false young knight was
+pining on chalk.</p>
+<p>Squire Crotchet had also one daughter, whom he had christened
+Lemma, and who, as likely to be endowed with a very ample fortune
+was, of course, an object very tempting to many young soldiers of
+fortune, who were marching with the march of mind, in a good
+condition for taking castles, as far as not having a groat is a
+qualification for such exploits.&nbsp; She was also a glittering
+bait to divers young squires expectant (whose fathers were too
+well acquainted with the occult signification of mortgage), and
+even to one or two sprigs of nobility, who thought that the
+lining of a civic purse would superinduce a very passable
+factitious nap upon a thread-bare title.&nbsp; The young lady had
+received an expensive and complicated education, complete in all
+the elements of superficial display.&nbsp; She was thus eminently
+qualified to be the companion of any masculine luminary who had
+kept due pace with the &ldquo;astounding progress&rdquo; of
+intelligence.&nbsp; It must be confessed, that a man who has not
+kept due pace with it, is not very easily found: this march being
+one of that &ldquo;astounding&rdquo; character in which it seems
+impossible that the rear can be behind the van.&nbsp; The young
+lady was also tolerably good looking: north of Tweed, or in
+Palestine, she would probable have been a beauty; but for the
+valleys of the Thames she was perhaps a little too much to the
+taste of Solomon, and had a nose which rather too prominently
+suggested the idea of the tower of Lebanon, which looked towards
+Damascus.</p>
+<p>In a village in the vicinity of the Castle was the vicarage of
+the Reverend Doctor Folliott, a gentleman endowed with a
+tolerable stock of learning, an interminable swallow, and an
+indefatigable pair of lungs.&nbsp; His pre-eminence in the latter
+faculty gave occasion to some etymologists to ring changes on his
+name, and to decide that it was derived from Follis Optimus,
+softened through an Italian medium into Folle Ottimo, contracted
+poetically into Folleotto, and elided Anglic&eacute; into
+Folliott, signifying a first-rate pair of bellows.&nbsp; He
+claimed to be descended lineally from the illustrious Gilbert
+Folliott, the eminent theologian, who was a Bishop of London in
+the twelfth century, whose studies were interrupted in the dead
+of night by the Devil, when a couple of epigrams passed between
+them, and the Devil, of course, proved the smaller wit of the
+two.</p>
+<p>This reverend gentleman, being both learned and jolly, became
+by degrees an indispensable ornament to the new squire&rsquo;s
+table.&nbsp; Mr. Crotchet himself was eminently jolly, though by
+no means eminently learned.&nbsp; In the latter respect he took
+after the great majority of the sons of his father&rsquo;s land;
+had a smattering of many things, and a knowledge of none; but
+possessed the true northern art of making the most of his
+intellectual harlequin&rsquo;s jacket, by keeping the best
+patches always bright and prominent.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER II.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE MARCH OF MIND.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>Quoth Ralpho: nothing but the abuse<br />
+Of human learning you produce.&mdash;<span
+class="smcap">Butler</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">God</span> bless my soul,
+sir!&rdquo; exclaimed the Reverend Doctor Folliott, bursting, one
+fine May morning, into the breakfast-room at Crotchet Castle,
+&ldquo;I am out of all patience with this march of mind.&nbsp;
+Here has my house been nearly burned down by my cook taking it
+into her head to study hydrostatics in a sixpenny tract,
+published by the Steam Intellect Society, and written by a
+learned friend who is for doing all the world&rsquo;s business as
+well as his own, and is equally well qualified to handle every
+branch of human knowledge.&nbsp; I have a great abomination of
+this learned friend; as author, lawyer, and politician, he is
+<i>triformis</i>, like Hecate; and in every one of his three
+forms he is <i>bifrons</i>, like Janus; the true Mr.
+Facing-both-ways of Vanity Fair.&nbsp; My cook must read his
+rubbish in bed; and, as might naturally be expected, she dropped
+suddenly fast asleep, overturned the candle, and set the curtains
+in a blaze.&nbsp; Luckily, the footman went into the room at the
+moment, in time to tear down the curtains and throw them into the
+chimney, and a pitcher of water on her nightcap extinguished her
+wick; she is a greasy subject, and would have burned like a short
+mould.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The reverend gentleman exhaled his grievance without looking
+to the right or to the left; at length, turning on his pivot, he
+perceived that the room was full of company, consisting of young
+Crotchet, and some visitors whom he had brought from
+London.&nbsp; The Reverend Doctor Folliott was introduced to Mr.
+Mac Quedy, the economist; Mr. Skionar, the transcendental poet;
+Mr. Firedamp, the meteorologist; and Lord Bossnowl, son of the
+Earl of Foolincourt, and member for the borough of
+Rogueingrain.</p>
+<p>The divine took his seat at the breakfast-table, and began to
+compose his spirits by the gentle sedative of a large cup of tea,
+the demulcent of a well-buttered muffin, and the tonic of a small
+lobster.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;You are a man of taste,
+Mr. Crotchet.&nbsp; A man of taste is seen at once in the array
+of his breakfast-table.&nbsp; It is the foot of Hercules, the
+far-shining face of the great work, according to Pindar&rsquo;s
+doctrine:
+&#7936;&rho;&chi;&omicron;&mu;&#8051;&nu;&omicron;&upsilon;
+&#7956;&rho;&gamma;&omicron;&upsilon;
+&pi;&rho;&#8057;&sigmaf;&omega;&pi;&omicron;&nu;
+&chi;&rho;&#8052; &theta;&#8051;&mu;&epsilon;&nu;
+&pi;&eta;&lambda;&alpha;&upsilon;&gamma;&#8051;&sigmaf;.&nbsp;
+The breakfast is the
+&pi;&rho;&#8057;&sigmaf;&omega;&pi;&omicron;&nu; of the great
+work of the day.&nbsp; Chocolate, coffee, tea, cream, eggs, ham,
+tongue, cold fowl, all these are good, and bespeak good knowledge
+in him who sets them forth: but the touchstone is fish: anchovy
+is the first step, prawns and shrimps the second; and I laud him
+who reaches even to these: potted char and lampreys are the
+third, and a fine stretch of progression; but lobster is, indeed,
+matter for a May morning, and demands a rare combination of
+knowledge and virtue in him who sets it forth.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, and what say you to a
+fine fresh trout, hot and dry, in a napkin? or a herring out of
+the water into the frying-pan, on the shore of Loch Fyne?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, I say every nation
+has some eximious virtue; and your country is pre-eminent in the
+glory of fish for breakfast.&nbsp; We have much to learn from you
+in that line at any rate.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;And in many others, sir, I
+believe.&nbsp; Morals and metaphysics, politics and political
+economy, the way to make the most of all the modifications of
+smoke; steam, gas, and paper currency; you have all these to
+learn from us; in short, all the arts and sciences.&nbsp; We are
+the modern Athenians.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I, for one, sir, am
+content to learn nothing from you but the art and science of fish
+for breakfast.&nbsp; Be content, sir, to rival the Boeotians,
+whose redeeming virtue was in fish, touching which point you may
+consult Aristophanes and his scholiast in the passage of
+Lysistrata, &#7936;&lambda;&lambda;&rsquo;
+&#7940;&phi;&epsilon;&lambda;&epsilon; &tau;&#8048;&sigmaf;
+&#7952;&gamma;&chi;&#8051;&lambda;&epsilon;&iota;&sigmaf;, and
+leave the name of Athenians to those who have a sense of the
+beautiful, and a perception of metrical quantity.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Then, sir, I presume you set no
+value on the right principles of rent, profit, wages, and
+currency?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;My principles, sir, in
+these things are, to take as much as I can get, and pay no more
+than I can help.&nbsp; These are every man&rsquo;s principles,
+whether they be the right principles or no.&nbsp; There, sir, is
+political economy in a nutshell.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;The principles, sir, which
+regulate production and consumption are independent of the will
+of any individual as to giving or taking, and do not lie in a
+nutshell by any means.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, I will thank you for
+a leg of that capon.</p>
+<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.&mdash;But, sir, by-the-bye, how came
+your footman to be going into your cook&rsquo;s room?&nbsp; It
+was very providential to be sure, but&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, as good came of it, I
+shut my eyes, and ask no questions.&nbsp; I suppose he was going
+to study hydrostatics, and he found himself under the necessity
+of practising hydraulics.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.&mdash;Sir, you seem to make very light of
+science.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Yes, sir, such science as
+the learned friend deals in: everything for everybody, science
+for all, schools for all, rhetoric for all, law for all, physic
+for all, words for all, and sense for none.&nbsp; I say, sir, law
+for lawyers, and cookery for cooks: and I wish the learned
+friend, for all his life, a cook that will pass her time in
+studying his works; then every dinner he sits down to at home, he
+will sit on the stool of repentance.</p>
+<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.&mdash;Now really that would be too
+severe: my cook should read nothing but Ude.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No, sir! let Ude and the
+learned friend singe fowls together; let both avaunt from my
+kitchen.&nbsp; &Theta;&#973;&rho;&alpha;&sigmaf; &delta;&rsquo;
+&#7952;&pi;&#943;&theta;&epsilon;&sigma;&theta;&epsilon;
+&beta;&epsilon;&beta;&#942;&lambda;&omicron;&iota;&sigmaf;.&nbsp;
+Ude says an elegant supper may be given with sandwiches.&nbsp;
+<i>Horresco referens</i>.&nbsp; An elegant supper.&nbsp;
+<i>D&icirc; meliora piis</i>.&nbsp; No Ude for me.&nbsp;
+Conviviality went out with punch and suppers.&nbsp; I cherish
+their memory.&nbsp; I sup when I can, but not upon
+sandwiches.&nbsp; To offer me a sandwich, when I am looking for a
+supper, is to add insult to injury.&nbsp; Let the learned friend,
+and the modern Athenians, sup upon sandwiches.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Nay, sir; the modern Athenians
+know better than that.&nbsp; A literary supper in sweet
+Edinbro&rsquo; would cure you of the prejudice you seem to
+cherish against us.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, well; there is
+cogency in a good supper; a good supper in these degenerate days
+bespeaks a good man; but much more is wanted to make up an
+Athenian.&nbsp; Athenians, indeed! where is your theatre? who
+among you has written a comedy? where is your Attic salt? which
+of you can tell who was Jupiter&rsquo;s great-grandfather? or
+what metres will successively remain, if you take off the three
+first syllables, one by one, from a pure antispastic acatalectic
+tetrameter?&nbsp; Now, sir, there are three questions for you:
+theatrical, mythological, and metrical; to every one of which an
+Athenian would give an answer that would lay me prostrate in my
+own nothingness.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, as to your metre and
+your mythology, they may e&rsquo;en wait a wee.&nbsp; For your
+comedy there is the &ldquo;Gentle Shepherd&rdquo; of the divine
+Allan Ramsay.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;The &ldquo;Gentle
+Shepherd&rdquo;!&nbsp; It is just as much a comedy as the Book of
+Job.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, if none of us have
+written a comedy, I cannot see that it is any such great matter,
+any more than I can conjecture what business a man can have at
+this time of day with Jupiter&rsquo;s great-grandfather.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;The great business is,
+sir, that you call yourselves Athenians, while you know nothing
+that the Athenians thought worth knowing, and dare not show your
+noses before the civilised world in the practice of any one art
+in which they were excellent.&nbsp; Modern Athens, sir! the
+assumption is a personal affront to every man who has a Sophocles
+in his library.&nbsp; I will thank you for an anchovy.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Metaphysics, sir;
+metaphysics.&nbsp; Logic and moral philosophy.&nbsp; There we are
+at home.&nbsp; The Athenians only sought the way, and we have
+found it; and to all this we have added political economy, the
+science of sciences.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;A hyperbarbarous
+technology, that no Athenian ear could have borne.&nbsp; Premises
+assumed without evidence, or in spite of it; and conclusions
+drawn from them so logically, that they must necessarily be
+erroneous.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;I cannot agree with you, Mr. Mac
+Quedy, that you have found the true road of metaphysics, which
+the Athenians only sought.&nbsp; The Germans have found it, sir:
+the sublime Kant and his disciples.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;I have read the sublime Kant, sir,
+with an anxious desire to understand him, and I confess I have
+not succeeded.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;He wants the two great
+requisites of head and tail.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;Transcendentalism is the philosophy
+of intuition, the development of universal convictions; truths
+which are inherent in the organisation of mind, which cannot be
+obliterated, though they may be obscured, by superstitious
+prejudice on the one hand, and by the Aristotelian logic on the
+other.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, I have no notion of
+logic obscuring a question.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;There is only one true logic, which
+is the transcendental; and this can prove only the one true
+philosophy, which is also the transcendental.&nbsp; The logic of
+your Modern Athens can prove everything equally; and that is, in
+my opinion, tantamount to proving nothing at all.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;The sentimental against the
+rational, the intuitive against the inductive, the ornamental
+against the useful, the intense against the tranquil, the
+romantic against the classical; these are great and interesting
+controversies, which I should like, before I die, to see
+satisfactorily settled.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.&mdash;There is another great question,
+greater than all these, seeing that it is necessary to be alive
+in order to settle any question; and this is the question of
+water against human life.&nbsp; Wherever there is water, there is
+malaria, and wherever there is malaria, there are the elements of
+death.&nbsp; The great object of a wise man should be to live on
+a gravelly hill, without so much as a duck-pond within ten miles
+of him, eschewing cisterns and waterbutts, and taking care that
+there be no gravel-pits for lodging the rain.&nbsp; The sun sucks
+up infection from water, wherever it exists on the face of the
+earth.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, you have for
+you the authority of the ancient mystagogue, who said:
+&rsquo;&Epsilon;&sigma;&tau;&iota;&nu; &#8020;&delta;&omega;&rho;
+&psi;&upsilon;&chi;&#8135;
+&theta;&#8049;&nu;&alpha;&tau;&omicron;&sigmaf;.&nbsp; For my
+part I care not a rush (or any other aquatic and inesculent
+vegetable) who or what sucks up either the water or the
+infection.&nbsp; I think the proximity of wine a matter of much
+more importance than the longinquity of water.&nbsp; You are here
+within a quarter of a mile of the Thames, but in the cellar of my
+friend, Mr. Crotchet, there is the talismanic antidote of a
+thousand dozen of old wine; a beautiful spectacle, I assure you,
+and a model of arrangement.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.&mdash;Sir, I feel the malignant influence
+of the river in every part of my system.&nbsp; Nothing but my
+great friendship for Mr. Crotchet would have brought me so nearly
+within the jaws of the lion.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;After dinner, sir, after
+dinner, I will meet you on this question.&nbsp; I shall then be
+armed for the strife.&nbsp; You may fight like Hercules against
+Achelous, but I shall flourish the Bacchic thyrsus, which changed
+rivers into wine: as Nonnus sweetly sings,
+&Omicron;&#8055;&nu;&omega;
+&kappa;&upsilon;&mu;&alpha;&tau;&#8057;&epsilon;&nu;&tau;&iota;
+&mu;&#8051;&lambda;&alpha;&sigmaf;
+&kappa;&epsilon;&lambda;&#8049;&rho;&upsilon;&zeta;&epsilon;&nu;
+&Upsilon;&delta;&#8049;&sigmaf;&pi;&eta;&sigmaf;.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>&mdash;I hope, Mr. Firedamp,
+you will let your friendship carry you a little closer into the
+jaws of the lion.&nbsp; I am fitting up a flotilla of
+pleasure-boats, with spacious cabins, and a good cellar, to carry
+a choice philosophical party up the Thames and Severn, into the
+Ellesmere canal, where we shall be among the mountains of North
+Wales; which we may climb or not, as we think proper; but we
+will, at any rate, keep our floating hotel well provisioned, and
+we will try to settle all the questions over which a shadow of
+doubt yet hangs in the world of philosophy.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.&mdash;Out of my great friendship for you,
+I will certainly go; but I do not expect to survive the
+experiment.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;<i>Alter erit tum
+Tiphys</i>, <i>et altera qu&aelig; vehat Argo Delectos
+Heroas</i>.&nbsp; I will be of the party, though I must hire an
+officiating curate, and deprive poor dear Mrs. Folliott, for
+several weeks, of the pleasure of combing my wig.</p>
+<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.&mdash;I hope, if I am to be of the
+party, our ship is not to be the ship of fools: He! he!</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;If you are one of the
+party, sir, it most assuredly will not: Ha! ha!</p>
+<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.&mdash;Pray sir, what do you mean by Ha!
+ha!?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Precisely, sir, what you
+mean by He! he!</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;You need not dispute about terms;
+they are two modes of expressing merriment, with or without
+reason; reason being in no way essential to mirth.&nbsp; No man
+should ask another why he laughs, or at what, seeing that he does
+not always know, and that, if he does, he is not a responsible
+agent.&nbsp; Laughter is an involuntary action of certain
+muscles, developed in the human species by the progress of
+civilisation.&nbsp; The savage never laughs.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No, sir, he has nothing to
+laugh at.&nbsp; Give him Modern Athens, the &ldquo;learned
+friend,&rdquo; and the Steam Intellect Society.&nbsp; They will
+develop his muscles.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER III.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE ROMAN CAMP.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>He loved her more then seven yere,<br />
+Yet was he of her love never the nere;<br />
+He was not ryche of golde and fe,<br />
+A gentyll man forsoth was he.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><i>The Squyr of Lowe Degre</i>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Reverend Doctor Folliott having
+promised to return to dinner, walked back to his vicarage,
+meditating whether he should pass the morning in writing his next
+sermon, or in angling for trout, and had nearly decided in favour
+of the latter proposition, repeating to himself, with great
+unction, the lines of Chaucer:</p>
+<blockquote><p>And as for me, though that I can but lite,<br />
+On bokis for to read I me delite,<br />
+And to &rsquo;hem yeve I faithe and full credence,<br />
+And in mine herte have &rsquo;hem in reverence,<br />
+So hertily, that there is gam&eacute; none,<br />
+That fro my bokis makith me to gone,<br />
+But it be seldome, on the holie daie;<br />
+Save certainly whan that the month of Maie<br />
+Is cousin, and I here the foulis sing,<br />
+And that the flouris ginnin for to spring,<br />
+Farwell my boke and my devocion:</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>when his attention was attracted by a young gentleman who was
+sitting on a camp stool with a portfolio on his knee, taking a
+sketch of the Roman Camp, which, as has been already said, was
+within the enclosed domain of Mr. Crotchet.&nbsp; The young
+stranger, who had climbed over the fence, espying the portly
+divine, rose up, and hoped that he was not trespassing.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;By no means, sir,&rdquo; said the divine, &ldquo;all the
+arts and sciences are welcome here; music, painting, and poetry;
+hydrostatics and political economy; meteorology,
+transcendentalism, and fish for breakfast.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Stranger</i>.&mdash;A pleasant association, sir, and a
+liberal and discriminating hospitality.&nbsp; This is an old
+British camp, I believe, sir?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Roman, sir; Roman;
+undeniably Roman.&nbsp; The vallum is past controversy.&nbsp; It
+was not a camp, sir, a <i>castrum</i>, but a <i>castellum</i>, a
+little camp, or watch-station, to which was attached, on the peak
+of the adjacent hill, a beacon for transmitting alarms.&nbsp; You
+will find such here and there, all along the range of chalk
+hills, which traverses the country from north-east to south-west,
+and along the base of which runs the ancient Iknield road,
+whereof you may descry a portion in that long straight white
+line.</p>
+<p><i>The Stranger</i>.&mdash;I beg your pardon, sir; do I
+understand this place to be your property?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;It is not mine, sir: the
+more is the pity; yet is it so far well, that the owner is my
+good friend, and a highly respectable gentleman.</p>
+<p><i>The Stranger</i>.&mdash;Good and respectable, sir, I take
+it, means rich?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;That is their meaning,
+sir.</p>
+<p><i>The Stranger</i>.&mdash;I understand the owner to be a Mr.
+Crotchet.&nbsp; He has a handsome daughter, I am told.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;He has, sir.&nbsp; Her
+eyes are like the fish-pools of Heshbon, by the gate of
+Bethrabbim; and she is to have a handsome fortune, to which
+divers disinterested gentlemen are paying their addresses.&nbsp;
+Perhaps you design to be one of them?</p>
+<p><i>The Stranger</i>.&mdash;No, sir; I beg pardon if my
+questions seem impertinent; I have no such design.&nbsp; There is
+a son too, I believe, sir, a great and successful blower of
+bubbles?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;A hero, sir, in his
+line.&nbsp; Never did angler in September hook more gudgeons.</p>
+<p><i>The Stranger</i>.&mdash;To say the truth, two very amiable
+young people, with whom I have some little acquaintance, Lord
+Bossnowl, and his sister, Lady Clarinda, are reported to be on
+the point of concluding a double marriage with Miss Crotchet and
+her brother; by way of putting a new varnish on old
+nobility.&nbsp; Lord Foolincourt, their father, is terribly poor
+for a lord who owns a borough.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, the Crotchets
+have plenty of money, and the old gentleman&rsquo;s weak point is
+a hankering after high blood.&nbsp; I saw your acquaintance, Lord
+Bossnowl, this morning, but I did not see his sister.&nbsp; She
+may be there, nevertheless, and doing fashionable justice to this
+fine May morning, by lying in bed till noon.</p>
+<p><i>The Stranger</i>.&mdash;Young Mr. Crotchet, sir, has been,
+like his father, the architect of his own fortune, has he
+not?&nbsp; An illustrious example of the reward of honesty and
+industry?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;As to honesty, sir, he
+made his fortune in the city of London, and if that commodity be
+of any value there, you will find it in the price current.&nbsp;
+I believe it is below par, like the shares of young
+Crotchet&rsquo;s fifty companies.&nbsp; But his progress has not
+been exactly like his father&rsquo;s.&nbsp; It has been more
+rapid, and he started with more advantages.&nbsp; He began with a
+fine capital from his father.&nbsp; The old gentleman divided his
+fortune into three not exactly equal portions; one for himself,
+one for his daughter, and one for his son, which he handed over
+to him, saying, &ldquo;Take it once for all, and make the most of
+it; if you lose it where I won it, not another stiver do you get
+from me during my life.&rdquo;&nbsp; But, sir, young Crotchet
+doubled, and trebled, and quadrupled it, and is, as you say, a
+striking example of the reward of industry; not that I think his
+labour has been so great as his luck.</p>
+<p><i>The Stranger</i>.&mdash;But, sir, is all this solid? is
+there no danger of reaction? no day of reckoning to cut down in
+an hour prosperity that has grown up like a mushroom?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Nay, sir, I know
+not.&nbsp; I do not pry into these matters.&nbsp; I am, for my
+own part, very well satisfied with the young gentleman.&nbsp; Let
+those who are not so look to themselves.&nbsp; It is quite enough
+for me that he came down last night from London, and that he had
+the good sense to bring with him a basket of lobsters.&nbsp; Sir,
+I wish you a good morning.</p>
+<p>The stranger having returned the reverend gentleman&rsquo;s
+good morning, resumed his sketch, and was intently employed on it
+when Mr. Crotchet made his appearance with Mr. Mac Quedy and Mr.
+Skionar, whom he was escorting round his grounds, according to
+his custom with new visitors; the principal pleasure of
+possessing an extensive domain being that of showing it to other
+people.&nbsp; Mr. Mac Quedy, according also to the laudable
+custom of his countrymen, had been appraising everything that
+fell under his observation; but, on arriving at the Roman camp,
+of which the value was purely imaginary, he contented himself
+with exclaiming: &ldquo;Eh! this is just a curiosity, and very
+pleasant to sit in on a summer day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;And call up the days of old, when
+the Roman eagle spread its wings in the place of that beechen
+foliage.&nbsp; It gives a fine idea of duration, to think that
+that fine old tree must have sprung from the earth ages after
+this camp was formed.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;How old, think you, may the tree
+be?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;I have records which show it to be
+three hundred years old.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;That is a great age for a beech in
+good condition.&nbsp; But you see the camp is some fifteen
+hundred years, or so, older; and three times six being eighteen,
+I think you get a clearer idea of duration out of the simple
+arithmetic, than out of your eagle and foliage.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;That is a very unpoetical, if not
+unphilosophical, mode of viewing antiquities.&nbsp; Your
+philosophy is too literal for our imperfect vision.&nbsp; We
+cannot look directly into the nature of things; we can only catch
+glimpses of the mighty shadow in the camera obscura of
+transcendental intelligence.&nbsp; These six and eighteen are
+only words to which we give conventional meanings.&nbsp; We can
+reason, but we cannot feel, by help of them.&nbsp; The tree and
+the eagle, contemplated in the ideality of space and time, become
+subjective realities, that rise up as landmarks in the mystery of
+the past.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, if you understand that,
+I wish you joy.&nbsp; But I must be excused for holding that my
+proposition, three times six are eighteen, is more intelligible
+than yours.&nbsp; A worthy friend of mine, who is a sort of
+amateur in philosophy, criticism, politics, and a wee bit of many
+things more, says: &ldquo;Men never begin to study antiquities
+till they are saturated with civilisation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;What is civilisation?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;It is just respect for
+property.&nbsp; A state in which no man takes wrongfully what
+belongs to another, is a perfectly civilised state.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;Your friend&rsquo;s antiquaries must
+have lived in El Dorado, to have had an opportunity of being
+saturated with such a state.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;It is a question of degree.&nbsp;
+There is more respect for property here than in Angola.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;That depends on the light in which
+things are viewed.</p>
+<p>Mr. Crotchet was rubbing his hands, in hopes of a fine
+discussion, when they came round to the side of the camp where
+the picturesque gentleman was sketching.&nbsp; The stranger was
+rising up, when Mr. Crotchet begged him not to disturb himself,
+and presently walked away with his two guests.</p>
+<p>Shortly after, Miss Crotchet and Lady Clarinda, who had
+breakfasted by themselves, made their appearance at the same
+spot, hanging each on an arm of Lord Bossnowl, who very much
+preferred their company to that of the philosophers, though he
+would have preferred the company of the latter, or any company to
+his own.&nbsp; He thought it very singular that so agreeable a
+person as he held himself to be to others, should be so
+exceedingly tiresome to himself: he did not attempt to
+investigate the cause of this phenomenon, but was contented with
+acting on his knowledge of the fact, and giving himself as little
+of his own private society as possible.</p>
+<p>The stranger rose as they approached, and was immediately
+recognised by the Bossnowls as an old acquaintance, and saluted
+with the exclamation of &ldquo;Captain Fitzchrome!&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The interchange of salutations between Lady Clarinda and the
+Captain was accompanied with an amiable confusion on both sides,
+in which the observant eyes of Miss Crotchet seemed to read the
+recollection of an affair of the heart.</p>
+<p>Lord Bossnowl was either unconscious of any such affair, or
+indifferent to its existence.&nbsp; He introduced the Captain
+very cordially to Miss Crotchet; and the young lady invited him,
+as the friend of their guests, to partake of her father&rsquo;s
+hospitality, an offer which was readily accepted.</p>
+<p>The Captain took his portfolio under his right arm, his camp
+stool in his right hand, offered his left arm to Lady Clarinda,
+and followed at a reasonable distance behind Miss Crotchet and
+Lord Bossnowl, contriving, in the most natural manner possible,
+to drop more and more into the rear.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;I am glad to see you can make
+yourself so happy with drawing old trees and mounds of grass.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Happy, Lady Clarinda! oh,
+no!&nbsp; How can I be happy when I see the idol of my heart
+about to be sacrificed on the shrine of Mammon?</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Do you know, though Mammon has a
+sort of ill name, I really think he is a very popular character;
+there must be at the bottom something amiable about him.&nbsp; He
+is certainly one of those pleasant creatures whom everybody
+abuses, but without whom no evening party is endurable.&nbsp; I
+dare say, love in a cottage is very pleasant; but then it
+positively must be a cottage orn&eacute;e: but would not the same
+love be a great deal safer in a castle, even if Mammon furnished
+the fortification?</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Oh, Lady Clarinda! there is a
+heartlessness in that language that chills me to the soul.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Heartlessness!&nbsp; No: my heart
+is on my lips.&nbsp; I speak just what I think.&nbsp; You used to
+like it, and say it was as delightful as it was rare.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;True, but you did not then
+talk as you do now, of love in a castle.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Well, but only consider: a dun is
+a horridly vulgar creature; it is a creature I cannot endure the
+thought of: and a cottage lets him in so easily.&nbsp; Now a
+castle keeps him at bay.&nbsp; You are a half-pay officer, and
+are at leisure to command the garrison: but where is the castle?
+and who is to furnish the commissariat?</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Is it come to this, that you
+make a jest of my poverty?&nbsp; Yet is my poverty only
+comparative.&nbsp; Many decent families are maintained on smaller
+means.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Decent families: ay, decent is the
+distinction from respectable.&nbsp; Respectable means rich, and
+decent means poor.&nbsp; I should die if I heard my family called
+decent.&nbsp; And then your decent family always lives in a snug
+little place: I hate a little place; I like large rooms and large
+looking-glasses, and large parties, and a fine large butler, with
+a tinge of smooth red in his face; an outward and visible sign
+that the family he serves is respectable; if not noble, highly
+respectable.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;I cannot believe that you say
+all this in earnest.&nbsp; No man is less disposed than I am to
+deny the importance of the substantial comforts of life.&nbsp; I
+once flattered myself that in our estimate of these things we
+were nearly of a mind.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Do you know, I think an opera-box
+a very substantial comfort, and a carriage.&nbsp; You will tell
+me that many decent people walk arm-in-arm through the snow, and
+sit in clogs and bonnets in the pit at the English theatre.&nbsp;
+No doubt it is very pleasant to those who are used to it; but it
+is not to my taste.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;You always delighted in
+trying to provoke me; but I cannot believe that you have not a
+heart.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;You do not like to believe that I
+have a heart, you mean.&nbsp; You wish to think I have lost it,
+and you know to whom; and when I tell you that it is still safe
+in my own keeping, and that I do not mean to give it away, the
+unreasonable creature grows angry.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Angry! far from it; I am
+perfectly cool.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Why, you are pursing your brows,
+biting your lips, and lifting up your foot as if you would stamp
+it into the earth.&nbsp; I must say anger becomes you; you would
+make a charming Hotspur.&nbsp; Your every-day-dining-out face is
+rather insipid: but I assure you my heart is in danger when you
+are in the heroics.&nbsp; It is so rare, too, in these days of
+smooth manners, to see anything like natural expression in a
+man&rsquo;s face.&nbsp; There is one set form for every
+man&rsquo;s face in female society: a sort of serious comedy
+walking gentleman&rsquo;s face: but the moment the creature falls
+in love he begins to give himself airs, and plays off all the
+varieties of his physiognomy from the Master Slender to the
+Petruchio; and then he is actually very amusing.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Well, Lady Clarinda, I will
+not be angry, amusing as it may be to you: I listen more in
+sorrow than in anger.&nbsp; I half believe you in earnest: and
+mourn as over a fallen angel.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;What, because I have made up my
+mind not to give away my heart when I can sell it?&nbsp; I will
+introduce you to my new acquaintance, Mr. Mac Quedy: he will talk
+to you by the hour about exchangeable value, and show you that no
+rational being will part with anything, except to the highest
+bidder.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Now, I am sure you are not in
+earnest.&nbsp; You cannot adopt such sentiments in their naked
+deformity.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Naked deformity!&nbsp; Why, Mr.
+Mac Quedy will prove to you that they are the cream of the most
+refined philosophy.&nbsp; You live a very pleasant life as a
+bachelor, roving about the country with your portfolio under your
+arm.&nbsp; I am not fit to be a poor man&rsquo;s wife.&nbsp; I
+cannot take any kind of trouble, or do any one thing that is of
+any use.&nbsp; Many decent families roast a bit of mutton on a
+string; but if I displease my father I shall not have as much as
+will buy the string, to say nothing of the meat; and the bare
+idea of such cookery gives me the horrors.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>By this time they were near the Castle, and met Miss Crotchet
+and her companion, who had turned back to meet them.&nbsp;
+Captain Fitzchrome was shortly after heartily welcomed by Mr.
+Crotchet, and the party separated to dress for dinner, the
+Captain being by no means in an enviable state of mind, and full
+of misgivings as to the extent of belief that he was bound to
+accord to the words of the lady of his heart.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE PARTY.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>En quoi cognoissez-vous la folie anticque?&nbsp;
+En quoi cognoissez-vous la sagesse pr&eacute;sente?&mdash;<span
+class="smcap">Rabelais</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">If</span> I were sketching a bandit
+who had just shot his last pursuer, having outrun all the rest,
+that is the very face I would give him,&rdquo; soliloquised the
+Captain, as he studied the features of his rival in the
+drawing-room, during the miserable half-hour before dinner, when
+dulness reigns predominant over expectant company, especially
+when they are waiting for some one last comer, whom they all
+heartily curse in their hearts, and whom, nevertheless, or indeed
+therefore-the-more, they welcome as a sinner, more heartily than
+all the just persons who had been punctual to their
+engagement.&nbsp; Some new visitors had arrived in the morning,
+and, as the company dropped in one by one, the Captain anxiously
+watched the unclosing door for the form of his beloved: but she
+was the last to make her appearance, and on her entry gave him a
+malicious glance, which he construed into a telegraphic
+communication that she had stayed away to torment him.&nbsp;
+Young Crotchet escorted her with marked attention to the upper
+end of the drawing-room, where a great portion of the company was
+congregated around Miss Crotchet.&nbsp; These being the only
+ladies in the company, it was evident that old Mr. Crotchet would
+give his arm to Lady Clarinda, an arrangement with which the
+Captain could not interfere.&nbsp; He therefore took his station
+near the door, studying his rival from a distance, and determined
+to take advantage of his present position, to secure the seat
+next to his charmer.&nbsp; He was meditating on the best mode of
+operation for securing this important post with due regard to
+<i>bien-s&eacute;ance</i>, when he was twitched by the button by
+Mr. Mac Quedy, who said to him: &ldquo;Lady Clarinda tells me,
+sir, that you are anxious to talk with me on the subject of
+exchangeable value, from which I infer that you have studied
+political economy, and as a great deal depends on the definition
+of value, I shall be glad to set you right on that
+point.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;I am much obliged to you, sir,&rdquo;
+said the Captain, and was about to express his utter
+disqualification for the proposed instruction, when Mr. Skionar
+walked up and said: &ldquo;Lady Clarinda informs me that you wish
+to talk over with me the question of subjective reality.&nbsp; I
+am delighted to fall in with a gentleman who daily appreciates
+the transcendental philosophy.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Lady Clarinda
+is too good,&rdquo; said the Captain; and was about to protest
+that he had never heard the word &ldquo;transcendental&rdquo;
+before, when the butler announced dinner.&nbsp; Mr. Crotchet led
+the way with Lady Clarinda: Lord Bossnowl followed with Miss
+Crotchet: the economist and transcendentalist pinned in the
+Captain, and held him, one by each arm, as he impatiently
+descended the stairs in the rear of several others of the
+company, whom they had forced him to let pass; but the moment he
+entered the dining-room he broke loose from them, and at the
+expense of a little <i>brusquerie</i>, secured his position.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Captain,&rdquo; said Lady Clarinda, &ldquo;I
+perceive you can still man&oelig;uvre.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What could possess you,&rdquo; said the Captain,
+&ldquo;to send two unendurable and inconceivable bores to
+intercept me with rubbish about which I neither know nor care any
+more than the man in the moon?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Lady Clarinda, &ldquo;I saw your
+design, and wished to put your generalship to the test.&nbsp; But
+do not contradict anything I have said about you, and see if the
+learned will find you out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is fine music, as Rabelais observes, in the
+<i>cliquetis d&rsquo;asssiettes</i>, a refreshing shade in the
+<i>ombre de salle &agrave; manger</i>, and an elegant fragrance
+in the <i>fum&eacute;e de r&ocirc;ti</i>,&rdquo; said a voice at
+the Captain&rsquo;s elbow.&nbsp; The Captain turning round,
+recognised his clerical friend of the morning, who knew him again
+immediately, and said he was extremely glad to meet him there;
+more especially as Lady Clarinda had assured him that he was an
+enthusiastic lover of Greek poetry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lady Clarinda,&rdquo; said the Captain, &ldquo;is a
+very pleasant young lady.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;So she is, sir: and I
+understand she has all the wit of the family to herself, whatever
+that <i>totum</i> may be.&nbsp; But a glass of wine after soup
+is, as the French say, the <i>verre de sant&eacute;</i>.&nbsp;
+The current of opinion sets in favour of Hock: but I am for
+Madeira; I do not fancy Hock till I have laid a substratum of
+Madeira.&nbsp; Will you join me?</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;With pleasure.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Here is a very fine salmon
+before me: and May is the very <i>point nomm&eacute;</i> to have
+salmon in perfection.&nbsp; There is a fine turbot close by, and
+there is much to be said in his behalf: but salmon in May is the
+king of fish.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;That salmon before you, doctor, was
+caught in the Thames, this morning.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr.
+Folliott</i>.&mdash;&Pi;&alpha;&pi;&alpha;&pi;&alpha;&#8150;!&nbsp;
+Rarity of rarities!&nbsp; A Thames salmon caught this
+morning.&nbsp; Now, Mr. Mac Quedy, even in fish your Modern
+Athens must yield.&nbsp; <i>Cedite Graii</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Eh! sir, on its own around, your
+Thames salmon has two virtues over all others; first, that it is
+fresh; and, second, that it is rare; for I understand you do not
+take half a dozen in a year.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;In some years, sir, not
+one.&nbsp; Mud, filth, gas-dregs, lock-weirs, and the march of
+mind, developed in the form of poaching, have ruined the
+fishery.&nbsp; But, when we do catch a salmon, happy the man to
+whom he falls.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;I confess, sir, this is excellent:
+but I cannot see why it should be better than a Tweed salmon at
+Kelso.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, I will take a glass
+of Hock with you.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;With all my heart, sir.&nbsp;
+There are several varieties of the salmon genus: but the common
+salmon, the <i>salmo salar</i>, is only one species, one and the
+same everywhere, just like the human mind.&nbsp; Locality and
+education make all the difference.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Education!&nbsp; Well,
+sir, I have no doubt schools for all are just as fit for the
+species <i>salmo salar</i> as for the genus <i>homo</i>.&nbsp;
+But you must allow that the specimen before us has finished his
+education in a manner that does honour to his college.&nbsp;
+However, I doubt that the <i>salmo salar</i> is only one species,
+that is to say, precisely alike in all localities.&nbsp; I hold
+that every river has its own breed, with essential differences;
+in flavour especially.&nbsp; And as for the human mind, I deny
+that it is the same in all men.&nbsp; I hold that there is every
+variety of natural capacity from the idiot to Newton and
+Shakespeare; the mass of mankind, midway between these extremes,
+being blockheads of different degrees; education leaving them
+pretty nearly as it found them, with this single difference, that
+it gives a fixed direction to their stupidity, a sort of
+incurable wry neck to the thing they call their
+understanding.&nbsp; So one nose points always east, and another
+always west, and each is ready to swear that it points due
+north.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;If that be the point of truth, very
+few intellectual noses point due north.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Only those that point to the
+Modern Athens.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Where all native noses
+point southward.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Eh, sir, northward for wisdom, and
+southward for profit.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>&nbsp; Champagne, doctor?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Most willingly.&nbsp; But
+you will permit my drinking it while it sparkles.&nbsp; I hold it
+a heresy to let it deaden in my hand, while the glass of my
+<i>compotator</i> is being filled on the opposite side of the
+table.&nbsp; By-the-bye, Captain, you remember a passage in
+Athen&aelig;us, where he cites Menander on the subject of
+fish-sauce: &#8000;&psi;&#8049;&rho;&iota;&omicron;&nu;
+&#7952;&pi;&#8054;
+&#7984;&chi;&theta;&#973;&omicron;&sigmaf;.&nbsp; (The Captain
+was aghast for an answer that would satisfy both his neighbours,
+when he was relieved by the divine continuing.)&nbsp; The science
+of fish-sauce, Mr. Mac Quedy, is by no means brought to
+perfection; a fine field of discovery still lies open in that
+line.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Nay, sir, beyond lobster-sauce, I
+take it, ye cannot go.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;In their line, I grant
+you, oyster and lobster-sauce are the pillars of Hercules.&nbsp;
+But I speak of the cruet sauces, where the quintessence of the
+sapid is condensed in a phial.&nbsp; I can taste in my
+mind&rsquo;s palate a combination, which, if I could give it
+reality, I would christen with the name of my college, and hand
+it down to posterity as a seat of learning indeed.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, I wish you success, but
+I cannot let slip the question we started just now.&nbsp; I say,
+cutting off idiots, who have no minds at all, all minds are by
+nature alike.&nbsp; Education (which begins from their birth)
+makes them what they are.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No, sir, it makes their
+tendencies, not their power.&nbsp; C&aelig;sar would have been
+the first wrestler on the village common.&nbsp; Education might
+have made him a Nadir Shah; it might also have made him a
+Washington; it could not have made him a merry-andrew, for our
+newspapers to extol as a model of eloquence.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Now, sir, I think education would
+have made him just anything, and fit for any station, from the
+throne to the stocks; saint or sinner, aristocrat or democrat,
+judge, counsel, or prisoner at the bar.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I will thank you for a
+slice of lamb, with lemon and pepper.&nbsp; Before I proceed with
+this discussion,&mdash;Vin de Grave, Mr. Skionar,&mdash;I must
+interpose one remark.&nbsp; There is a set of persons in your
+city, Mr. Mac Quedy, who concoct, every three or four months, a
+thing, which they call a review: a sort of sugar-plum
+manufacturers to the Whig aristocracy.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;I cannot tell, sir, exactly, what
+you mean by that; but I hope you will speak of those gentlemen
+with respect, seeing that I am one of them.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, I must drown my
+inadvertence in a glass of Sauterne with you.&nbsp; There is a
+set of gentlemen in your city&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Not in our city, exactly; neither
+are they a set.&nbsp; There is an editor, who forages for
+articles in all quarters, from John o&rsquo; Groat&rsquo;s house
+to the Land&rsquo;s End.&nbsp; It is not a board, or a society:
+it is a mere intellectual bazaar, where A, B, and C, bring their
+wares to market.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, these gentlemen
+among them, the present company excepted, have practised as much
+dishonesty as, in any other department than literature, would
+have brought the practitioner under the cognisance of the
+police.&nbsp; In politics, they have ran with the hare and hunted
+with the hound.&nbsp; In criticism, they have, knowingly and
+unblushingly, given false characters, both for good and for evil;
+sticking at no art of misrepresentation, to clear out of the
+field of literature all who stood in the way of the interests of
+their own clique.&nbsp; They have never allowed their own
+profound ignorance of anything (Greek for instance) to throw even
+an air of hesitation into their oracular decision on the
+matter.&nbsp; They set an example of profligate contempt for
+truth, of which the success was in proportion to the effrontery;
+and when their prosperity had filled the market with competitors,
+they cried out against their own reflected sin, as if they had
+never committed it, or were entitled to a monopoly of it.&nbsp;
+The latter, I rather think, was what they wanted.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Hermitage, doctor?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Nothing better, sir.&nbsp;
+The father who first chose the solitude of that vineyard, knew
+well how to cultivate his spirit in retirement.&nbsp; Now, Mr.
+Mac Quedy, Achilles was distinguished above all the Greeks for
+his inflexible love of truth; could education have made Achilles
+one of your reviewers?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;No doubt of it, even if your
+character of them were true to the letter.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;And I say,
+sir&mdash;chicken and asparagus&mdash;Titan had made him of
+better clay.&nbsp; I hold with Pindar, &ldquo;All that is most
+excellent is so by nature.&rdquo;&nbsp; &Tau;&#8056;
+&delta;&#8050; &phi;&upsilon;&#8119;
+&kappa;&rho;&#8049;&tau;&iota;&sigma;&tau;&omicron;&nu;
+&#7941;&pi;&alpha;&nu;.&nbsp; Education can give purposes, but
+not powers; and whatever purposes had been given him, he would
+have gone straight forward to them; straight forward, Mr. Mac
+Quedy.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;No, sir, education makes the man,
+powers, purposes, and all.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;There is the point, sir,
+on which we join issue.</p>
+<p>Several others of the company now chimed in with their
+opinions, which gave the divine an opportunity to degustate one
+or two side dishes, and to take a glass of wine with each of the
+young ladies.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER V.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">CHARACTERS.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>Ay imput&eacute; a honte plus que m&eacute;diocre
+&ecirc;tre vu spectateur ocieux de tant vaillans, disertz, et
+chevalereux personnaiges.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="smcap">Rabelais</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i> (<i>to the Captain</i>).&mdash;I declare
+the creature has been listening to all this rigmarole, instead of
+attending to me.&nbsp; Do you ever expect forgiveness?&nbsp; But
+now that they are all talking together, and you cannot make out a
+word they say, nor they hear a word that we say, I will describe
+the company to you.&nbsp; First, there is the old gentleman on my
+left hand, at the head of the table, who is now leaning the other
+way to talk to my brother.&nbsp; He is a good-tempered,
+half-informed person, very unreasonably fond of reasoning, and of
+reasoning people; people that talk nonsense logically: he is fond
+of disputation himself, when there are only one or two, but
+seldom does more than listen in a large company of
+<i>illumin&eacute;s</i>.&nbsp; He made a great fortune in the
+city, and has the comfort of a good conscience.&nbsp; He is very
+hospitable, and is generous in dinners; though nothing would
+induce him to give sixpence to the poor, because he holds that
+all misfortune is from imprudence, that none but the rich ought
+to marry, and that all ought to thrive by honest industry, as he
+did.&nbsp; He is ambitious of founding a family, and of allying
+himself with nobility; and is thus as willing as other grown
+children to throw away thousands for a gew-gaw, though he would
+not part with a penny for charity.&nbsp; Next to him is my
+brother, whom you know as well as I do.&nbsp; He has finished his
+education with credit, and as he never ventures to oppose me in
+anything, I have no doubt he is very sensible.&nbsp; He has good
+manners, is a model of dress, and is reckoned ornamental in all
+societies.&nbsp; Next to him is Miss Crotchet, my sister-in-law
+that is to be.&nbsp; You see she is rather pretty, and very
+genteel.&nbsp; She is tolerably accomplished, has her table
+always covered with new novels, thinks Mr. Mac Quedy an oracle,
+and is extremely desirous to be called &ldquo;my
+lady.&rdquo;&nbsp; Next to her is Mr. Firedamp, a very absurd
+person, who thinks that water is the evil principle.&nbsp; Next
+to him is Mr. Eavesdrop, a man who, by dint of a certain
+something like smartness, has got into good society.&nbsp; He is
+a sort of bookseller&rsquo;s tool, and coins all his acquaintance
+in reminiscences and sketches of character.&nbsp; I am very shy
+of him, for fear he should print me.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;If he print you in your own
+likeness, which is that of an angel, you need not fear him.&nbsp;
+If he print you in any other, I will cut his throat.&nbsp; But
+proceed&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Next to him is Mr. Henbane, the
+toxicologist, I think he calls himself.&nbsp; He has passed half
+his life in studying poisons and antidotes.&nbsp; The first thing
+he did on his arrival here was to kill the cat; and while Miss
+Crotchet was crying over her, he brought her to life again.&nbsp;
+I am more shy of him than the other.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;They are two very dangerous
+fellows, and I shall take care to keep them both at a respectful
+distance.&nbsp; Let us hope that Eavesdrop will sketch off
+Henbane, and that Henbane will poison him for his trouble.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Well, next to him sits Mr. Mac
+Quedy, the Modern Athenian, who lays down the law about
+everything, and therefore may be taken to understand
+everything.&nbsp; He turns all the affairs of this world into
+questions of buying and selling.&nbsp; He is the Spirit of the
+Frozen Ocean to everything like romance and sentiment.&nbsp; He
+condenses their volume of steam into a drop of cold water in a
+moment.&nbsp; He has satisfied me that I am a commodity in the
+market, and that I ought to set myself at a high price.&nbsp; So
+you see, he who would have me must bid for me.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;I shall discuss that point
+with Mr. Mac Quedy.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Not a word for your life.&nbsp;
+Our flirtation is our own secret.&nbsp; Let it remain so.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Flirtation, Clarinda!&nbsp;
+Is that all that the most ardent&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Now, don&rsquo;t be rhapsodical
+here.&nbsp; Next to Mr. Mac Quedy is Mr. Skionar, a sort of
+poetical philosopher, a curious compound of the intense and the
+mystical.&nbsp; He abominates all the ideas of Mr. Mac Quedy, and
+settles everything by sentiment and intuition.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Then, I say, he is the wiser
+man.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;They are two oddities, but a
+little of them is amusing, and I like to hear them dispute.&nbsp;
+So you see I am in training for a philosopher myself.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Any philosophy, for
+Heaven&rsquo;s sake, but the pound-shilling-and-pence philosophy
+of Mr. Mac Quedy.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Why, they say that even Mr.
+Skionar, though he is a great dreamer, always dreams with his
+eyes open, or with one eye at any rate, which is an eye to his
+gain: but I believe that in this respect the poor man has got an
+ill name by keeping bad company.&nbsp; He has two dear friends,
+Mr. Wilful Wontsee, and Mr. Rumblesack Shantsee, poets of some
+note, who used to see visions of Utopia, and pure republics
+beyond the Western deep: but, finding that these El Dorados
+brought them no revenue, they turned their vision-seeing faculty
+into the more profitable channel of espying all sorts of virtues
+in the high and the mighty, who were able and willing to pay for
+the discovery.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;I do not fancy these
+virtue-spyers.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Next to Mr. Skionar sits Mr.
+Chainmail, a good-looking young gentleman, as you see, with very
+antiquated tastes.&nbsp; He is fond of old poetry, and is
+something of a poet himself.&nbsp; He is deep in monkish
+literature, and holds that the best state of society was that of
+the twelfth century, when nothing was going forward but fighting,
+feasting, and praying, which he says are the three great purposes
+for which man was made.&nbsp; He laments bitterly over the
+inventions of gunpowder, steam, and gas, which he says have
+ruined the world.&nbsp; He lives within two or three miles, and
+has a large hall, adorned with rusty pikes, shields, helmets,
+swords, and tattered banners, and furnished with yew-tree chairs,
+and two long old worm-eaten oak tables, where he dines with all
+his household, after the fashion of his favourite age.&nbsp; He
+wants us all to dine with him, and I believe we shall go.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;That will be something new,
+at any rate.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Next to him is Mr. Toogood, the
+co-operationist, who will have neither fighting nor praying; but
+wants to parcel out the world into squares like a chess-board,
+with a community on each, raising everything for one another,
+with a great steam-engine to serve them in common for tailor and
+hosier, kitchen and cook.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;He is the strangest of the
+set, so far.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;This brings us to the bottom of
+the table, where sits my humble servant, Mr. Crotchet the
+younger.&nbsp; I ought not to describe him.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;I entreat you do.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Well, I really have very little to
+say in his favour.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;I do not wish to hear
+anything in his favour; and I rejoice to hear you say so,
+because&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Do not flatter yourself.&nbsp; If
+I take him, it will be to please my father, and to have a town
+and country house, and plenty of servants and a carriage and an
+opera-box, and make some of my acquaintance who have married for
+love, or for rank, or for anything but money, die for envy of my
+jewels.&nbsp; You do not think I would take him for
+himself.&nbsp; Why, he is very smooth and spruce as far as his
+dress goes; but as to his face, he looks as if he had tumbled
+headlong into a volcano, and been thrown up again among the
+cinders.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;I cannot believe, that,
+speaking thus of him, you mean to take him at all.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Oh! I am out of my teens.&nbsp; I
+have been very much in love; but now I am come to years of
+discretion, and must think, like other people, of settling myself
+advantageously.&nbsp; He was in love with a banker&rsquo;s
+daughter, and cast her off at her father&rsquo;s bankruptcy, and
+the poor girl has gone to hide herself in some wild place.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;She must have a strange
+taste, if she pines for the loss of him.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;They say he was good-looking, till
+his bubble schemes, as they call them, stamped him with the
+physiognomy of a desperate gambler.&nbsp; I suspect he has still
+a penchant towards his first flame.&nbsp; If he takes me, it will
+be for my rank and connection, and the second seat of the borough
+of Rogueingrain.&nbsp; So we shall meet on equal terms, and shall
+enjoy all the blessedness of expecting nothing from each
+other.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;You can expect no security
+with such an adventurer.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;I shall have the security of a
+good settlement, and then if <i>andare al diavolo</i> be his
+destiny, he may go, you know, by himself.&nbsp; He is almost
+always dreaming and <i>distrait</i>.&nbsp; It is very likely that
+some great reverse is in store for him: but that will not concern
+me, you perceive.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;You torture me, Clarinda,
+with the bare possibility.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Hush!&nbsp; Here is music to
+soothe your troubled spirit.&nbsp; Next to him, on this side,
+sits the dilettante composer, Mr. Trillo; they say his name was
+O&rsquo;Trill, and he has taken the O from the beginning, and put
+it at the end.&nbsp; I do not know how this may be.&nbsp; He
+plays well on the violoncello, and better on the piano; sings
+agreeably; has a talent at versemaking, and improvises a song
+with some felicity.&nbsp; He is very agreeable company in the
+evening, with his instruments and music-books.&nbsp; He maintains
+that the sole end of all enlightened society is to get up a good
+opera, and laments that wealth, genius, and energy are squandered
+upon other pursuits, to the neglect of this one great matter.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;That is a very pleasant fancy
+at any rate.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;I assure you he has a great deal
+to say for it.&nbsp; Well, next to him, again, is Dr. Morbific,
+who has been all over the world to prove that there is no such
+thing as contagion; and has inoculated himself with plague,
+yellow fever, and every variety of pestilence, and is still alive
+to tell the story.&nbsp; I am very shy of him, too; for I look on
+him as a walking phial of wrath, corked full of all infections,
+and not to be touched without extreme hazard.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;This is the strangest fellow
+of all.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Next to him sits Mr. Philpot, the
+geographer, who thinks of nothing but the heads and tails of
+rivers, and lays down the streams of Terra Incognita as
+accurately as if he had been there.&nbsp; He is a person of
+pleasant fancy, and makes a sort of fairy land of every country
+he touches, from the Frozen Ocean to the Deserts of Sahara.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;How does he settle matters
+with Mr. Firedamp?</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;You see Mr. Firedamp has got as
+far as possible out of his way.&nbsp; Next to him is Sir Simon
+Steeltrap, of Steeltrap Lodge, Member for Crouching-Curtown,
+Justice of Peace for the county, and Lord of the United Manors of
+Spring-gun-and-Treadmill; a great preserver of game and public
+morals.&nbsp; By administering the laws which he assists in
+making, he disposes, at his pleasure, of the land and its live
+stock, including all the two-legged varieties, with and without
+feathers, in a circumference of several miles round Steeltrap
+Lodge.&nbsp; He has enclosed commons and woodlands; abolished
+cottage gardens; taken the village cricket-ground into his own
+park, out of pure regard to the sanctity of Sunday; shut up
+footpaths and alehouses (all but those which belong to his
+electioneering friend, Mr. Quassia, the brewer); put down fairs
+and fiddlers; committed many poachers; shot a few; convicted
+one-third of the peasantry; suspected the rest; and passed nearly
+the whole of them through a wholesome course of prison
+discipline, which has finished their education at the expense of
+the county.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;He is somewhat out of his
+element here: among such a diversity of opinions he will hear
+some he will not like.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;It was rather ill-judged in Mr.
+Crotchet to invite him to-day.&nbsp; But the art of assorting
+company is above these <i>parvenus</i>.&nbsp; They invite a
+certain number of persons without considering how they harmonise
+with each other.&nbsp; Between Sir Simon and you is the Reverend
+Doctor Folliott.&nbsp; He is said to be an excellent scholar, and
+is fonder of books than the majority of his cloth; he is very
+fond, also, of the good things of this world.&nbsp; He is of an
+admirable temper, and says rude things in a pleasant half-earnest
+manner, that nobody can take offence with.&nbsp; And next to him
+again is one Captain Fitzchrome, who is very much in love with a
+certain person that does not mean to have anything to say to him,
+because she can better her fortune by taking somebody else.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;And next to him again is the
+beautiful, the accomplished, the witty, the fascinating, the
+tormenting, Lady Clarinda, who traduces herself to the said
+Captain by assertions which it would drive him crazy to
+believe.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Time will show, sir.&nbsp; And now
+we have gone the round of the table.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;But I must say, though I know
+you had always a turn for sketching characters, you surprise me
+by your observation, and especially by your attention to
+opinions.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Well, I will tell you a secret: I
+am writing a novel.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;A novel!</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Yes, a novel.&nbsp; And I shall
+get a little finery by it: trinkets and fal-lals, which I cannot
+get from papa.&nbsp; You must know I have been reading several
+fashionable novels, the fashionable this, and the fashionable
+that; and I thought to myself, why I can do better than any of
+these myself.&nbsp; So I wrote a chapter or two, and sent them as
+a specimen to Mr. Puffall, the book-seller, telling him they were
+to be a part of the fashionable something or other, and he
+offered me, I will not say how much, to finish it in three
+volumes, and let him pay all the newspapers for recommending it
+as the work of a lady of quality, who had made very free with the
+characters of her acquaintance.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Surely you have not done
+so?</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Oh, no!&nbsp; I leave that to Mr.
+Eavesdrop.&nbsp; But Mr. Puffall made it a condition that I
+should let him say so.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;A strange recommendation.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Oh, nothing else will do.&nbsp;
+And it seems you may give yourself any character you like, and
+the newspapers will print it as if it came from themselves.&nbsp;
+I have commended you to three of our friends here as an
+economist, a transcendentalist, and a classical scholar; and if
+you wish to be renowned through the world for these, or any other
+accomplishments, the newspapers will confirm you in their
+possession for half-a-guinea a piece.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Truly, the praise of such
+gentry must be a feather in any one&rsquo;s cap.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;So you will see, some morning,
+that my novel is &ldquo;the most popular production of the
+day.&rdquo;&nbsp; This is Mr. Puffall&rsquo;s favourite
+phrase.&nbsp; He makes the newspapers say it of everything he
+publishes.&nbsp; But &ldquo;the day,&rdquo; you know, is a very
+convenient phrase; it allows of three hundred and sixty-five
+&ldquo;most popular productions&rdquo; in a year.&nbsp; And in
+leap-year one more.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THEORIES.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>But when they came to shape the model,<br />
+Not one could fit the other&rsquo;s noddle.&mdash;<span
+class="smcap">Butler</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">Meanwhile</span>, the last course, and the
+dessert, passed by.&nbsp; When the ladies had withdrawn, young
+Crotchet addressed the company.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>&nbsp; There is one point in
+which philosophers of all classes seem to be agreed: that they
+only want money to regenerate the world.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;No doubt of it.&nbsp; Nothing is
+so easy as to lay down the outlines of perfect society.&nbsp;
+There wants nothing but money to set it going.&nbsp; I will
+explain myself clearly and fully by reading a paper.&nbsp;
+(Producing a large scroll.)&nbsp; &ldquo;In the infancy of
+society&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Pray, Mr. Mac Quedy, how
+is it that all gentlemen of your nation begin everything they
+write with the &ldquo;infancy of society?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Eh, sir, it is the simplest way to
+begin at the beginning.&nbsp; &ldquo;In the infancy of society,
+when government was invented to save a percentage; say two and a
+half per cent.&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I will not say any such
+thing.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, say any percentage you
+please.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I will not say any
+percentage at all.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;On the principle of the
+division of labour&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Government was invented to
+spend a percentage.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;To save a percentage.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No, sir, to spend a
+percentage; and a good deal more than two and a half
+percent.&nbsp; Two hundred and fifty per cent.: that is
+intelligible.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;In the infancy of
+society&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.&mdash;Never mind the infancy of
+society.&nbsp; The question is of society in its maturity.&nbsp;
+Here is what it should be.&nbsp; (Producing a paper.)&nbsp; I
+have laid it down in a diagram.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;Before we proceed to the question of
+government, we must nicely discriminate the boundaries of sense,
+understanding, and reason.&nbsp; Sense is a
+receptivity&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>&mdash;We are proceeding too
+fast.&nbsp; Money being all that is wanted to regenerate society,
+I will put into the hands of this company a large sum for the
+purpose.&nbsp; Now let us see how to dispose of it.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;We will begin by taking a
+committee-room in London, where we will dine together once a
+week, to deliberate.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;If the money is to go in
+deliberative dinners, you may set me down for a committee man and
+honorary caterer.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Next, you must all learn political
+economy, which I will teach you, very compendiously, in lectures
+over the bottle.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I hate lectures over the
+bottle.&nbsp; But pray, sir, what is political economy?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Political economy is to the state
+what domestic economy is to the family.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No such thing, sir.&nbsp;
+In the family there is a <i>paterfamilias</i>, who regulates the
+distribution, and takes care that there shall be no such thing in
+the household as one dying of hunger, while another dies of
+surfeit.&nbsp; In the state it is all hunger at one end, and all
+surfeit at the other.&nbsp; Matchless claret, Mr. Crotchet.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Vintage of fifteen, Doctor.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;The family consumes, and so does
+the state.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Consumes, air!&nbsp; Yes:
+but the mode, the proportions: there is the essential difference
+between the state and the family.&nbsp; Sir, I hate false
+analogies.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, the analogy is not
+essential.&nbsp; Distribution will come under its proper
+head.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Come where it will, the
+distribution of the state is in no respect analogous to the
+distribution of the family.&nbsp; The <i>paterfamilias</i>, sir:
+the <i>paterfamilias</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, let that pass.&nbsp;
+The family consumes, and in order to consume, it must have
+supply.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, Adam and Eve
+knew that, when they delved and span.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Very true, sir (reproducing his
+scroll).&nbsp; &ldquo;In the infancy of society&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.&mdash;The reverend gentleman has hit the
+nail on the head.&nbsp; It is the distribution that must be
+looked to; it is the <i>paterfamilias</i> that is wanting in the
+State.&nbsp; Now here I have provided him.&nbsp; (Reproducing his
+diagram.)</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;Apply the money, sir, to building and
+endowing an opera house, where the ancient altar of Bacchus may
+flourish, and justice may be done to sublime compositions.&nbsp;
+(Producing a part of a manuscript opera.)</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;No, sir, build <i>sacella</i> for
+transcendental oracles to teach the world how to see through a
+glass darkly.&nbsp; (Producing a scroll.)</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;See through an opera-glass
+brightly.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;See through a wine-glass
+full of claret; then you see both darkly and brightly.&nbsp; But,
+gentlemen, if you are all in the humour for reading papers, I
+will read you the first half of my next Sunday&rsquo;s
+sermon.&nbsp; (Producing a paper.)</p>
+<p><i>Omnes</i>.&mdash;No sermon!&nbsp; No sermon!</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Then I move that our
+respective papers be committed to our respective pockets.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Political economy is divided into
+two great branches, production and consumption.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Yes, sir; there are two
+great classes of men: those who produce much and consume little;
+and those who consume much and produce nothing.&nbsp; The
+<i>fruges consumere nati</i> have the best of it.&nbsp; Eh,
+Captain!&nbsp; You remember the characteristics of a great man
+according to Aristophanes: &#8005;&sigma;&tau;&iota;&sigmaf;
+&gamma;&epsilon; &pi;&#8055;&nu;&epsilon;&iota;&nu;
+&omicron;&#7990;&delta;&epsilon; &kappa;&alpha;&#8054;
+&beta;&#8055;&nu;&epsilon;&iota;&nu;
+&mu;&#8057;&nu;&omicron;&nu;.&nbsp; Ha! ha! ha!&nbsp; Well,
+Captain, even in these tight-laced days, the obscurity of a
+learned language allows a little pleasantry.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Very true, sir; the
+pleasantry and the obscurity go together; they are all one, as it
+were&mdash;to me at any rate (aside).</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Now, sir&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Pray, sir, let your
+science alone, or you will put me under the painful necessity of
+demolishing it bit by bit, as I have done your exordium.&nbsp; I
+will undertake it any morning; but it is too hard exercise after
+dinner.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, in the meantime I hold
+my science established.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;And I hold it
+demolished.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>&nbsp; Pray, gentlemen, pocket
+your manuscripts, fill your glasses, and consider what we shall
+do with our money.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Build lecture-rooms, and schools
+for all.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;Revive the Athenian theatre;
+regenerate the lyrical drama.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.&mdash;Build a grand co-operative
+parallelogram, with a steam-engine in the middle for a maid of
+all work.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.&mdash;Drain the country, and get rid of
+malaria, by abolishing duck-ponds.</p>
+<p><i>Dr. Morbific</i>.&mdash;Found a philanthropic college of
+anticontagionists, where all the members shall be inoculated with
+the virus of all known diseases.&nbsp; Try the experiment on a
+grand scale.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Build a great dining-hall; endow
+it with beef and ale, and hang the hall round with arms to defend
+the provisions.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Henbane</i>.&mdash;Found a toxicological institution
+for trying all poisons and antidotes.&nbsp; I myself have killed
+a frog twelve times, and brought him to life eleven; but the
+twelfth time he died.&nbsp; I have a phial of the drug, which
+killed him, in my pocket, and shall not rest till I have
+discovered its antidote.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I move that the last
+speaker be dispossessed of his phial, and that it be forthwith
+thrown into the Thames.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Henbane</i>.&mdash;How, sir? my invaluable, and, in the
+present state of human knowledge, infallible poison?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Let the frogs have all the
+advantage of it.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Consider, Doctor, the fish might
+participate.&nbsp; Think of the salmon.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Then let the owner&rsquo;s
+right-hand neighbour swallow it.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Eavesdrop</i>.&mdash;Me, sir!&nbsp; What have I done,
+sir, that I am to be poisoned, sir?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, you have published a
+character of your facetious friend, the Reverend Doctor F.,
+wherein you have sketched off me; me, sir, even to my nose and
+wig.&nbsp; What business have the public with my nose and
+wig?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Eavesdrop</i>.&mdash;Sir, it is all good-humoured; all
+in <i>bonhomie</i>: all friendly and complimentary.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, the bottle, <i>la
+Dive Bouteille</i>, is a recondite oracle, which makes an
+Eleusinian temple of the circle in which it moves.&nbsp; He who
+reveals its mysteries must die.&nbsp; Therefore, let the dose be
+administered.&nbsp; <i>Fiat experimentum in anim&acirc;
+vili</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Eavesdrop</i>.&mdash;Sir, you are very facetious at my
+expense.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, you have been very
+unfacetious, very inficete at mine.&nbsp; You have dished me up,
+like a savoury omelette, to gratify the appetite of the reading
+rabble for gossip.&nbsp; The next time, sir, I will respond with
+the <i>argumentum baculinum</i>.&nbsp; Print that, sir: put it on
+record as a promise of the Reverend Doctor F., which shall be
+most faithfully kept, with an exemplary bamboo.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Eavesdrop</i>.&mdash;Your cloth protects you, sir.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;My bamboo shall protect
+me, sir.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Doctor, Doctor, you are growing too
+polemical.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, my blood boils.&nbsp;
+What business have the public with my nose and wig?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Doctor! Doctor!</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>&nbsp; Pray, gentlemen, return
+to the point.&nbsp; How shall we employ our fund?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Philpot</i>.&mdash;Surely in no way so beneficially as
+in exploring rivers.&nbsp; Send a fleet of steamboats down the
+Niger, and another up the Nile.&nbsp; So shall you civilise
+Africa, and establish stocking factories in Abyssinia and
+Bambo.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;With all submission,
+breeches and petticoats must precede stockings.&nbsp; Send out a
+crew of tailors.&nbsp; Try if the King of Bambo will invest in
+inexpressibles.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>&mdash;Gentlemen, it is not
+for partial, but for general benefit, that this fund is proposed:
+a grand and universally applicable scheme for the amelioration of
+the condition of man.</p>
+<p><i>Several Voices</i>.&mdash;That is my scheme.&nbsp; I have
+not heard a scheme but my own that has a grain of common
+sense.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;Gentlemen, you inspire me.&nbsp; Your
+last exclamation runs itself into a chorus, and sets itself to
+music.&nbsp; Allow me to lead, and to hope for your voices in
+harmony.</p>
+<blockquote><p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;After careful
+meditation,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And profound deliberation,<br />
+On the various pretty projects which have just been shown,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Not a scheme in agitation,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; For the world&rsquo;s
+amelioration,<br />
+Has a grain of common sense in it, except my own.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><i>Several Voices</i>.&mdash;We are not disposed to join in
+any such chorus.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Well, of all these
+schemes, I am for Mr. Trillo&rsquo;s.&nbsp; Regenerate the
+Athenian theatre.&nbsp; My classical friend here, the Captain,
+will vote with, me.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;I, sir? oh! of course,
+sir.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Surely, Captain, I rely on you to
+uphold political economy.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Me, sir! oh, to be sure,
+sir.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Pray, sir, will political
+economy uphold the Athenian theatre?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Surely not.&nbsp; It would be a
+very unproductive investment.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Then the Captain votes
+against you.&nbsp; What, sir, did not the Athenians, the wisest
+of nations, appropriate to their theatre their most sacred and
+intangible fund?&nbsp; Did not they give to melopoeia,
+choregraphy, and the sundry forms of didascalics, the precedence
+of all other matters, civil and military?&nbsp; Was it not their
+law, that even the proposal to divert this fund to any other
+purpose should be punished with death?&nbsp; But, sir, I further
+propose that the Athenian theatre being resuscitated, the
+admission shall be free to all who can expound the Greek
+choruses, constructively, mythologically, and metrically, and to
+none others.&nbsp; So shall all the world learn Greek: Greek, the
+Alpha and Omega of all knowledge.&nbsp; At him who sits not in
+the theatre shall be pointed the finger of scorn: he shall be
+called in the highway of the city, &ldquo;a fellow without
+Greek.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;But the ladies, sir, the ladies.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Every man may take in a
+lady: and she who can construe and metricise a chorus, shall, if
+she so please, pass in by herself.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;But, sir, you will shut me out of my
+own theatre.&nbsp; Let there at least be a double passport, Greek
+and Italian.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No, sir; I am
+inexorable.&nbsp; No Greek, no theatre.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;Sir, I cannot consent to be shut out
+from my own theatre.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;You see how it is, Squire
+Crotchet the younger; you can scarcely find two to agree on a
+scheme, and no two of those can agree on the details.&nbsp; Keep
+your money in your pocket.&nbsp; And so ends the fund for
+regenerating the world.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Nay, by no means.&nbsp; We are all
+agreed on deliberative dinners.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Very true; we will dine
+and discuss.&nbsp; We will sing with Robin Hood, &ldquo;If I
+drink water while this doth last;&rdquo; and while it lasts we
+will have no adjournment, if not to the Athenian theatre.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;Well, gentlemen, I hope this chorus
+at least will please you:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>If I drink water while this doth last,<br />
+May I never again drink wine:<br />
+For how can a man, in his life of a span,<br />
+Do anything better than dine?<br />
+We'll dine and drink, and say if we think<br />
+That anything better can be,<br />
+And when we have dined, wish all mankind<br />
+May dine as well as we.<br />
+And though a good wish will fill no dish<br />
+And brim no cup with sack,<br />
+Yet thoughts will spring as the glasses ring,<br />
+To illume our studious track.<br />
+On the brilliant dreams of our hopeful schemes<br />
+The light of the flask shall shine;<br />
+And we&rsquo;ll sit till day, but we&rsquo;ll find the way<br />
+To drench the world with wine.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>The schemes for the world&rsquo;s regeneration evaporated in a
+tumult of voices.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE SLEEPING VENUS.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>Quoth he: In all my life till now,<br />
+I ne&rsquo;er saw so profane a show.&mdash;<span
+class="smcap">Butler</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> library of Crotchet Castle was
+a large and well-furnished apartment, opening on one side into an
+ante-room, on the other into a music-room.&nbsp; It had several
+tables stationed at convenient distances; one consecrated to the
+novelties of literature, another to the novelties of
+embellishment; others unoccupied, and at the disposal of the
+company.&nbsp; The walls were covered with a copious collection
+of ancient and modern books; the ancient having been selected and
+arranged by the Reverend Doctor Folliott.&nbsp; In the ante-room
+were card-tables; in the music-room were various instruments, all
+popular operas, and all fashionable music.&nbsp; In this suite of
+apartments, and not in the drawing-room, were the evenings of
+Crotchet Castle usually passed.</p>
+<p>The young ladies were in the music-room; Miss Crotchet at the
+piano, Lady Clarinda at the harp, playing and occasionally
+singing, at the suggestion of Mr. Trillo, portions of <i>Matilde
+di Shabran</i>.&nbsp; Lord Bossnowl was turning over the leaves
+for Miss Crotchet; the Captain was performing the same office for
+Lady Clarinda, but with so much more attention to the lady than
+the book, that he often made sad work with the harmony, by
+turnover of two leaves together.&nbsp; On these occasions Miss
+Crotchet paused, Lady Clarinda laughed, Mr. Trillo scolded, Lord
+Bossnowl yawned, the Captain apologised, and the performance
+proceeded.</p>
+<p>In the library Mr. Mac Quedy was expounding political economy
+to the Reverend Doctor Folliott, who was <i>pro more</i>
+demolishing its doctrines <i>seriatim</i>.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail was in hot dispute with Mr. Skionar, touching
+the physical and moral well-being of man.&nbsp; Mr. Skionar was
+enforcing his friend Mr. Shantsee&rsquo;s views of moral
+discipline; maintaining that the sole thing needful for man in
+this world was loyal and pious education; the giving men good
+books to read, and enough of the hornbook to read them; with a
+judicious interspersion of the lessons of Old Restraint, which
+was his poetic name for the parish stocks.&nbsp; Mr. Chainmail,
+on the other hand, stood up for the exclusive necessity of beef
+and ale, lodging and raiment, wife and children, courage to fight
+for them all, and armour wherewith to do so.</p>
+<p>Mr. Henbane had got his face scratched, and his finger bitten,
+by the cat, in trying to catch her for a second experiment in
+killing and bringing to life; and Doctor Morbific was comforting
+him with a disquisition to prove that there were only four
+animals having the power to communicate hydrophobia, of which the
+cat was one; and that it was not necessary that the animal should
+be in a rabid state, the nature of the wound being everything,
+and the idea of contagion a delusion.&nbsp; Mr. Henbane was
+listening very lugubriously to this dissertation.</p>
+<p>Mr. Philpot had seized on Mr. Firedamp, and pinned him down to
+a map of Africa, on which he was tracing imaginary courses of
+mighty inland rivers, terminating in lakes and marshes, where
+they were finally evaporated by the heat of the sun; and Mr.
+Firedamp&rsquo;s hair was standing on end at the bare imagination
+of the mass of malaria that must be engendered by the
+operation.&nbsp; Mr. Toogood had begun explaining his diagrams to
+Sir Simon Steeltrap; but Sir Simon grew testy, and told Mr.
+Toogood that the promulgators of such doctrines ought to be
+consigned to the treadmill.&nbsp; The philanthropist walked off
+from the country gentleman, and proceeded to hold forth to young
+Crotchet, who stood silent, as one who listens, but in reality
+without hearing a syllable.&nbsp; Mr. Crotchet, senior, as the
+master of the house, was left to entertain himself with his own
+meditations, till the Reverend Doctor Folliott tore himself from
+Mr. Mac Quedy, and proceeded to expostulate with Mr. Crotchet on
+a delicate topic.</p>
+<p>There was an Italian painter, who obtained the name of <i>Il
+Bragatore</i>, by the superinduction of inexpressibles on the
+naked Apollos and Bacchuses of his betters.&nbsp; The fame of
+this worthy remained one and indivisible, till a set of heads,
+which had been, by a too common mistake of Nature&rsquo;s
+journeymen, stuck upon magisterial shoulders, as the Corinthian
+capitals of &ldquo;fair round bellies with fat capon
+lined,&rdquo; but which Nature herself had intended for the
+noddles of porcelain mandarins, promulgated simultaneously from
+the east and the west of London, an order that no
+plaster-of-Paris Venus should appear in the streets without
+petticoats.&nbsp; Mr. Crotchet, on reading this order in the
+evening paper, which, by the postman&rsquo;s early arrival, was
+always laid on his breakfast-table, determined to fill his house
+with Venuses of all sizes and kinds.&nbsp; In pursuance of this
+resolution, came packages by water-carriage, containing an
+infinite variety of Venuses.&nbsp; There were the Medicean Venus,
+and the Bathing Venus; the Uranian Venus, and the Pandemian
+Venus; the Crouching Venus, and the Sleeping Venus; the Venus
+rising from the sea, the Venus with the apple of Paris, and the
+Venus with the armour of Mars.</p>
+<p>The Reverend Doctor Folliott had been very much astonished at
+this unexpected display.&nbsp; Disposed, as he was, to hold, that
+whatever had been in Greece, was right; he was more than doubtful
+of the propriety of throwing open the classical <i>adytum</i> to
+the illiterate profane.&nbsp; Whether, in his interior mind, he
+was at all influenced, either by the consideration that it would
+be for the credit of his cloth, with some of his vice-suppressing
+neighbours, to be able to say that he had expostulated; or by
+curiosity, to try what sort of defence his city-bred friend, who
+knew the classics only by translations, and whose reason was
+always a little ahead of his knowledge, would make for his
+somewhat ostentatious display of liberality in matters of taste;
+is a question on which the learned may differ: but, after having
+duly deliberated on two full-sized casts of the Uranian and
+Pandemian Venus, in niches on each side of the chimney, and on
+three alabaster figures, in glass cases, on the mantelpiece, he
+proceeded, peirastically, to open his fire.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;These little alabaster
+figures on the mantelpiece, Mr. Crotchet, and those large figures
+in the niches&mdash;may I take the liberty to ask you what they
+are intended to represent?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Venus, sir; nothing more, sir; just
+Venus.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;May I ask you, sir, why
+they are there?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;To be looked at, sir; just to be
+looked at: the reasons for most things in a gentleman&rsquo;s
+house being in it at all; from the paper on the walls, and the
+drapery of the curtains, even to the books in the library, of
+which the most essential part is the appearance of the back.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Very true, sir.&nbsp; As
+great philosophers hold that the <i>esse</i> of things is
+<i>percipi</i>, so a gentleman&rsquo;s furniture exists to be
+looked at.&nbsp; Nevertheless, sir, there are some things more
+fit to be looked at than others; for instance, there is nothing
+more fit to be looked at than the outside of a book.&nbsp; It is,
+as I may say, from repeated experience, a pure and unmixed
+pleasure to have a goodly volume lying before you, and to know
+that you may open it if you please, and need not open it unless
+you please.&nbsp; It is a resource against <i>ennui</i>, if
+<i>ennui</i> should come upon you.&nbsp; To have the resource and
+not to feel the <i>ennui</i>, to enjoy your bottle in the
+present, and your book in the indefinite future, is a delightful
+condition of human existence.&nbsp; There is no place, in which a
+man can move or sit, in which the outside of a book can be
+otherwise than an innocent and becoming spectacle.&nbsp; Touching
+this matter, there cannot, I think, be two opinions.&nbsp; But
+with respect to your Venuses there can be, and indeed there are,
+two very distinct opinions.&nbsp; Now, Sir, that little figure in
+the centre of the mantelpiece&mdash;as a grave
+<i>paterfamilias</i>, Mr. Crotchet, with a fair nubile daughter,
+whose eyes are like the fish-pools of Heshbon&mdash;I would ask
+you if you hold that figure to be altogether delicate?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;The sleeping Venus, sir?&nbsp;
+Nothing can be more delicate than the entire contour of the
+figure, the flow of the hair on the shoulders and neck, the form
+of the feet and fingers.&nbsp; It is altogether a most delicate
+morsel.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Why, in that sense,
+perhaps, it is as delicate as whitebait in July.&nbsp; But the
+attitude, sir, the attitude.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Nothing can be more natural,
+sir.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;That is the very thing,
+sir.&nbsp; It is too natural: too natural, sir: it lies for all
+the world like&mdash;&nbsp; I make no doubt, the pious
+cheesemonger, who recently broke its plaster facsimile over the
+head of the itinerant vendor, was struck by a certain similitude
+to the position of his own sleeping beauty, and felt his noble
+wrath thereby justly aroused.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Very likely, sir.&nbsp; In my
+opinion, the cheesemonger was a fool, and the justice who sided
+with him was a greater.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Fool, sir, is a harsh
+term: call not thy brother a fool.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Sir, neither the cheesemonger nor
+the justice is a brother of mine.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, we are all
+brethren.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Yes, sir, as the hangman is of the
+thief; the squire of the poacher; the judge of the libeller; the
+lawyer of his client; the statesman of his colleague; the
+bubble-blower of the bubble-buyer; the slave-driver of the negro;
+as these are brethren, so am I and the worthies in question.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;To be sure, sir, in these
+instances, and in many others, the term brother must be taken in
+its utmost latitude of interpretation: we are all brothers,
+nevertheless.&nbsp; But to return to the point.&nbsp; Now these
+two large figures, one with drapery on the lower half of the
+body, and the other with no drapery at all; upon my word, sir, it
+matters not what godfathers and godmothers may have promised and
+vowed for the children of this world, touching the devil and
+other things to be renounced, if such figures as those are to be
+put before their eyes.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Sir, the naked figure is the
+Pandemian Venus, and the half-draped figure is the Uranian Venus;
+and I say, sir, that figure realises the finest imaginings of
+Plato, and is the personification of the most refined and exalted
+feeling of which the human mind is susceptible; the love of pure,
+ideal, intellectual beauty.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I am aware, sir, that
+Plato, in his Symposium, discourseth very eloquently touching the
+Uranian and Pandemian Venus: but you must remember that, in our
+universities, Plato is held to be little better than a misleader
+of youth; and they have shown their contempt for him, not only by
+never reading him (a mode of contempt in which they deal very
+largely), but even by never printing a complete edition of him;
+although they have printed many ancient books, which nobody
+suspects to have been ever read on the spot, except by a person
+attached to the press, who is, therefore, emphatically called
+&ldquo;the reader.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Well, sir?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Why, sir, to &ldquo;the
+reader&rdquo; aforesaid (supposing either of our universities to
+have printed an edition of Plato), or to any one else who can be
+supposed to have read Plato, or, indeed, to be ever likely to do
+so, I would very willingly show these figures; because to such
+they would, I grant you, be the outward and visible signs of
+poetical and philosophical ideas: but, to the multitude, the
+gross, carnal multitude, they are but two beautiful women, one
+half undressed, and the other quite so.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Then, sir, let the multitude look
+upon them and learn modesty.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I must say that, if I
+wished my footman to learn modesty, I should not dream of sending
+him to school to a naked Venus.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Sir, ancient sculpture is the true
+school of modesty.&nbsp; But where the Greeks had modesty, we
+have cant; where they had poetry, we have cant; where they had
+patriotism, we have cant; where they had anything that exalts,
+delights, or adorns humanity, we have nothing but cant, cant,
+cant.&nbsp; And, sir, to show my contempt for cant in all its
+shapes, I have adorned my house with the Greek Venus, in all her
+shapes, and am ready to fight her battle against all the
+societies that ever were instituted for the suppression of truth
+and beauty.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;My dear sir, I am afraid
+you are growing warm.&nbsp; Pray be cool.&nbsp; Nothing
+contributes so much to good digestion as to be perfectly cool
+after dinner.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Sir, the Laced&aelig;monian virgins
+wrestled naked with young men; and they grew up, as the wise
+Lycurgus had foreseen, into the most modest of women, and the
+most exemplary of wives and mothers.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Very likely, sir; but the
+Athenian virgins did no such thing, and they grew up into wives
+who stayed at home&mdash;stayed at home, sir; and looked after
+their husbands&rsquo; dinner&mdash;his dinner, sir, you will
+please to observe.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;And what was the consequence of
+that, sir? that they were such very insipid persons that the
+husband would not go home to eat his dinner, but preferred the
+company of some Aspasia, or Lais.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Two very different
+persons, sir, give me leave to remark.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Very likely, sir; but both too good
+to be married in Athens.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, Lais was a
+Corinthian.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Od&rsquo;s vengeance, sir, some
+Aspasia and any other Athenian name of the same sort of person
+you like&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I do not like the sort of
+person at all: the sort of person I like, as I have already
+implied, is a modest woman, who stays at home and looks after her
+husband&rsquo;s dinner.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, that was not the taste
+of the Athenians.&nbsp; They preferred the society of women who
+would not have made any scruple about sitting as models to
+Praxiteles; as you know, sir, very modest women in Italy did to
+Canova; one of whom, an Italian countess, being asked by an
+English lady, &ldquo;how she could bear it?&rdquo; answered,
+&ldquo;Very well; there was a good fire in the room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, the English lady
+should have asked how the Italian lady&rsquo;s husband could bear
+it.&nbsp; The phials of my wrath would overflow if poor dear Mrs.
+Folliott &mdash;: sir, in return for your story, I will tell you
+a story of my ancestor, Gilbert Folliott.&nbsp; The devil haunted
+him, as he did Saint Francis, in the likeness of a beautiful
+damsel; but all he could get from the exemplary Gilbert was an
+admonition to wear a stomacher and longer petticoats.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Sir, your story makes for my side
+of the question.&nbsp; It proves that the devil, in the likeness
+of a fair damsel, with short petticoats and no stomacher, was
+almost too much for Gilbert Folliott.&nbsp; The force of the
+spell was in the drapery.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Bless my soul, sir!</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Give me leave, sir.&nbsp;
+Diderot&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Who was he, sir?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Who was he, sir? the sublime
+philosopher, the father of the Encyclop&aelig;dia, of all the
+encyclop&aelig;dias that have ever been printed.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Bless me, sir, a terrible
+progeny: they belong to the tribe of Incubi.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;The great philosopher,
+Diderot&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, Diderot is not a man
+after my heart.&nbsp; Keep to the Greeks, if you please; albeit
+this Sleeping Venus is not an antique.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, the Greeks: why do we
+call the Elgin marbles inestimable?&nbsp; Simply because they are
+true to nature.&nbsp; And why are they so superior in that point
+to all modern works, with all our greater knowledge of
+anatomy?&nbsp; Why, sir, but because the Greeks, having no cant,
+had better opportunities of studying models?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, I deny our greater
+knowledge of anatomy.&nbsp; But I shall take the liberty to
+employ, on this occasion, the <i>argumentum ad hominem</i>.&nbsp;
+Would you have allowed Miss Crotchet to sit for a model to
+Canova?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Yes, sir.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;God bless my soul, sir!&rdquo; exclaimed the Reverend
+Doctor Folliott, throwing himself back into a chair, and flinging
+up his heels, with the premeditated design of giving emphasis to
+his exclamation; but by miscalculating his impetus, he
+overbalanced his chair, and laid himself on the carpet in a right
+angle, of which his back was the base.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SCIENCE AND CHARITY.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>Chi sta nel mondo un par d&rsquo;ore contento,<br
+/>
+N&egrave; gli vien tolta, ovver contaminata,<br />
+Quella sua pace in veruno momento,<br />
+Puo dir che Giove drittamente il guata.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="smcap">Forteguerri</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Reverend Doctor Folliott took
+his departure about ten o&rsquo;clock, to walk home to his
+vicarage.&nbsp; There was no moon, but the night was bright and
+clear, and afforded him as much light as he needed.&nbsp; He
+paused a moment by the Roman camp to listen to the nightingale;
+repeated to himself a passage of Sophocles; proceeded through the
+park gate, and entered the narrow lane that led to the
+village.&nbsp; He walked on in a very pleasant mood of the state
+called reverie; in which fish and wine, Greek and political
+economy, the Sleeping Venus he had left behind, and poor dear
+Mrs. Folliott, to whose fond arms he was returning, passed, as in
+a camera obscura, over the tablets of his imagination.&nbsp;
+Presently the image of Mr. Eavesdrop, with a printed sketch of
+the Reverend Doctor F., presented itself before him, and he began
+mechanically to flourish his bamboo.&nbsp; The movement was
+prompted by his good genius, for the uplifted bamboo received the
+blow of a ponderous cudgel, which was intended for his
+head.&nbsp; The reverend gentleman recoiled two or three paces,
+and saw before him a couple of ruffians, who were preparing to
+renew the attack, but whom, with two swings of his bamboo, he
+laid with cracked sconces on the earth, where he proceeded to
+deal with them like corn beneath the flail of the thresher.&nbsp;
+One of them drew a pistol, which went off in the very act of
+being struck aside by the bamboo, and lodged a bullet in the
+brain of the other.&nbsp; There was then only one enemy, who
+vainly struggled to rise, every effort being attended with a new
+and more signal prostration.&nbsp; The fellow roared for
+mercy.&nbsp; &ldquo;Mercy, rascal!&rdquo; cried the divine;
+&ldquo;what mercy were you going to show me, villain?&nbsp;
+What!&nbsp; I warrant me, you thought it would be an easy matter,
+and no sin, to rob and murder a parson on his way home from
+dinner.&nbsp; You said to yourself, doubtless, &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll
+waylay the fat parson (you irreverent knave), as he waddles home
+(you disparaging ruffian), half-seas-over, (you calumnious
+vagabond).&rdquo;&nbsp; And with every dyslogistic term, which he
+supposed had been applied to himself, he inflicted a new bruise
+on his rolling and roaring antagonist.&nbsp; &ldquo;Ah,
+rogue!&rdquo; he proceeded, &ldquo;you can roar now, marauder;
+you were silent enough when you devoted my brains to dispersion
+under your cudgel.&nbsp; But seeing that I cannot bind you, and
+that I intend you not to escape, and that it would be dangerous
+to let you rise, I will disable you in all your members.&nbsp; I
+will contund you as Thestylis did strong smelling herbs, in the
+quality whereof you do most gravely partake, as my nose beareth
+testimony, ill weed that you are.&nbsp; I will beat you to a
+jelly, and I will then roll you into the ditch, to lie till the
+constable comes for you, thief.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hold! hold! reverend sir,&rdquo; exclaimed the penitent
+culprit, &ldquo;I am disabled already in every finger, and in
+every joint.&nbsp; I will roll myself into the ditch, reverend
+sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stir not, rascal,&rdquo; returned the divine,
+&ldquo;stir not so much as the quietest leaf above you, or my
+bamboo rebounds on your body, like hail in a thunder-storm.&nbsp;
+Confess, speedily, villain; are you a simple thief, or would you
+have manufactured me into a subject for the benefit of
+science?&nbsp; Ay, miscreant caitiff, you would have made me a
+subject for science, would you?&nbsp; You are a school-master
+abroad, are you?&nbsp; You are marching with a detachment of the
+march of mind, are you?&nbsp; You are a member of the Steam
+Intellect Society, are you?&nbsp; You swear by the learned
+friend, do you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no! reverend sir,&rdquo; answered the criminal,
+&ldquo;I am innocent of all these offences, whatever they are,
+reverend sir.&nbsp; The only friend I had in the world is lying
+dead beside me, reverend sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The reverend gentleman paused a moment, and leaned on his
+bamboo.&nbsp; The culprit, bruised as he was, sprang on his legs,
+and went off in double quick time.&nbsp; The Doctor gave him
+chase, and had nearly brought him within arm&rsquo;s length, when
+the fellow turned at right angles, and sprang clean over a deep
+dry ditch.&nbsp; The divine, following with equal ardour, and
+less dexterity, went down over head and ears into a thicket of
+nettles.&nbsp; Emerging with much discomposure, he proceeded to
+the village, and roused the constable; but the constable found,
+on reaching the scene of action, that the dead man was gone, as
+well as his living accomplice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, the monster!&rdquo; exclaimed the Reverend Doctor
+Folliott, &ldquo;he has made a subject for science of the only
+friend he had in the world.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Ay, my
+dear,&rdquo; he resumed, the next morning at breakfast, &ldquo;if
+my old reading, and my early gymnastics (for, as the great
+Hermann says, before I was demulced by the Muses, I was
+<i>ferocis ingenii puer</i>, <i>et ad arma quam ad literas
+paratior</i>), had not imbued me indelibly with some of the holy
+rage of <i>Fr&egrave;re Jean des Entommeures</i>, I should be, at
+this moment, lying on the table of some flinty-hearted anatomist,
+who would have sliced and disjointed me as unscrupulously as I do
+these remnants of the capon and chine, wherewith you consoled
+yourself yesterday for my absence at dinner.&nbsp; Phew! I have a
+noble thirst upon me, which I will quench with floods of
+tea.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The reverend gentleman was interrupted by a messenger, who
+informed him that the Charity Commissioners requested his
+presence at the inn, where they were holding a sitting.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Charity Commissioners!&rdquo; exclaimed the
+reverend gentleman, &ldquo;who on earth are they?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The messenger could not inform him, and the reverend gentleman
+took his hat and stick, and proceeded to the inn.</p>
+<p>On entering the best parlour, he saw three well-dressed and
+bulky gentlemen sitting at a table, and a fourth officiating as
+clerk, with an open book before him, and a pen in his hand.&nbsp;
+The church-wardens, who had been also summoned, were already in
+attendance.</p>
+<p>The chief commissioner politely requested the Reverend Doctor
+Folliott to be seated, and after the usual meteorological
+preliminaries had been settled by a resolution, <i>nem. con.</i>,
+that it was a fine day but very hot, the chief commissioner
+stated, that in virtue of the commission of Parliament, which
+they had the honour to hold, they were now to inquire into the
+state of the public charities of this village.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;The state of the public
+charities, sir, is exceedingly simple.&nbsp; There are
+none.&nbsp; The charities here are all private, and so private,
+that I for one know nothing of them.</p>
+<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.&mdash;We have been informed, sir,
+that there is an annual rent charged on the land of Hautbois, for
+the endowment and repair of an almshouse.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Hautbois! Hautbois!</p>
+<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.&mdash;The manorial farm of
+Hautbois, now occupied by Farmer Seedling, is charged with the
+endowment and maintenance of an almshouse.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i> (<i>to the
+Churchwarden</i>).&nbsp; How is this, Mr. Bluenose?</p>
+<p><i>First Churchwarden</i>.&mdash;I really do not know,
+sir.&nbsp; What say you, Mr. Appletwig?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Appletwig</i> (<i>parish clerk and schoolmaster</i>;
+<i>an old man</i>).&nbsp; I do remember, gentlemen, to have been
+informed, that there did stand, at the end of the village, a
+ruined cottage, which had once been an almshouse, which was
+endowed and maintained, by an annual revenue of a mark and a
+half, or one pound sterling, charged some centuries ago on the
+farm of Hautbois; but the means, by the progress of time, having
+become inadequate to the end, the almshouse tumbled to
+pieces.</p>
+<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.&mdash;But this is a right which
+cannot be abrogated by desuetude, and the sum of one pound per
+annum is still chargeable for charitable purposes on the manorial
+farm of Hautbois.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Very well, sir.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Appletwig</i>.&mdash;But, sir, the one pound per annum
+is still received by the parish, but was long ago, by an
+unanimous vote in open vestry, given to the minister.</p>
+<p><i>The Three Commissioners</i> (<i>un&acirc; voce</i>).&nbsp;
+The minister!</p>
+<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.&mdash;This is an unjustifiable
+proceeding.</p>
+<p><i>Second Commissioner</i>.&mdash;A misappropriation of a
+public fund.</p>
+<p><i>Third Commissioner</i>.&mdash;A flagrant perversion of a
+charitable donation.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;God bless my soul,
+gentlemen!&nbsp; I know nothing of this matter.&nbsp; How is
+this, Mr. Bluenose?&nbsp; Do I receive this one pound per
+annum?</p>
+<p><i>First Churchwarden</i>.&mdash;Really, sir, I know no more
+about it than you do.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Appletwig</i>.&mdash;You certainly receive it,
+sir.&nbsp; It was voted to one of your predecessors.&nbsp; Farmer
+Seedling lumps it in with his tithes.</p>
+<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.&mdash;Lumps it in, sir!&nbsp; Lump
+in a charitable donation!</p>
+<p><i>Second and Third Commissioner</i>.&mdash;Oh-oh-oh-h-h!</p>
+<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.&mdash;Reverend sir, and gentlemen,
+officers of this parish, we are under the necessity of
+admonishing you that this is a most improper proceeding: and you
+are hereby duly admonished accordingly.&nbsp; Make a record, Mr.
+Milky.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Milky</i> (<i>writing</i>).&nbsp; The clergyman and
+church-wardens of the village of Hm-ra-m-m- gravely
+admonished.&nbsp; Hm-m-m-m.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Is that all,
+gentlemen?</p>
+<p><i>The Commissioners</i>.&mdash;That is all, sir; and we wish
+you a good morning.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;A very good morning to
+you, gentlemen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What in the name of all that is wonderful, Mr.
+Bluenose,&rdquo; said the Reverend Doctor Folliott, as he walked
+out of the inn, &ldquo;what in the name of all that is wonderful,
+can those fellows mean?&nbsp; They have come here in a chaise and
+four, to make a fuss about a pound per annum, which, after all,
+they leave as it was: I wonder who pays them for their trouble,
+and how much.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Appletwig</i>.&mdash;The public pay for it, sir.&nbsp;
+It is a job of the learned friend whom you admire so much.&nbsp;
+It makes away with public money in salaries, and private money in
+lawsuits, and does no particle of good to any living soul.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Ay, ay, Mr. Appletwig;
+that is just the sort of public service to be looked for from the
+learned friend.&nbsp; Oh, the learned friend! the learned
+friend!&nbsp; He is the evil genius of everything that falls in
+his way.</p>
+<p>The Reverend Doctor walked off to Crotchet Castle, to narrate
+his misadventures, and exhale his budget of grievances on Mr. Mac
+Quedy, whom he considered a ringleader of the march of mind.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE VOYAGE.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>&Omicron;&#7984; &mu;&#941;&nu;
+&#7956;&pi;&epsilon;&iota;&tau;&rsquo;
+&#7936;&nu;&alpha;&beta;&#8049;&tau;&epsilon;&sigmaf;
+&#7952;&pi;&#941;&pi;&lambda;&omicron;&nu;
+&#8017;&gamma;&rho;&#8048;
+&kappa;&#941;&lambda;&epsilon;&upsilon;&theta;&alpha;.</p>
+<p>Mounting the bark, they cleft the watery ways.&mdash;<span
+class="smcap">Homer</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">Four</span> beautiful cabined pinnaces,
+one for the ladies, one for the gentlemen, one for kitchen and
+servants, one for a dining-room and band of music, weighed
+anchor, on a fine July morning, from below Crotchet Castle, and
+were towed merrily, by strong trotting horses, against the stream
+of the Thames.&nbsp; They passed from the district of chalk,
+successively into the districts of clay, of sand-rock, of oolite,
+and so forth.&nbsp; Sometimes they dined in their floating
+dining-room, sometimes in tents, which they pitched on the dry,
+smooth-shaven green of a newly-mown meadow: sometimes they left
+their vessels to see sights in the vicinity; sometimes they
+passed a day or two in a comfortable inn.</p>
+<p>At Oxford, they walked about to see the curiosities of
+architecture, painted windows, and undisturbed libraries.&nbsp;
+The Reverend Doctor Folliott laid a wager with Mr. Crotchet
+&ldquo;that in all their perlustrations they would not find a man
+reading,&rdquo; and won it.&nbsp; &ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; said the
+reverend gentleman, &ldquo;this is still a seat of learning, on
+the principle of&mdash;once a captain, always a captain.&nbsp; We
+may well ask, in these great reservoirs of books whereof no man
+ever draws a sluice, <i>Quorsum pertinuit stipere Platona
+Menandro</i>?&nbsp; What is done here for the classics?&nbsp;
+Reprinting German editions on better paper.&nbsp; A great boast,
+verily!&nbsp; What for mathematics?&nbsp; What for
+metaphysics?&nbsp; What for history?&nbsp; What for anything
+worth knowing?&nbsp; This was a seat of learning in the days of
+Friar Bacon.&nbsp; But the Friar is gone, and his learning with
+him.&nbsp; Nothing of him is left but the immortal nose, which,
+when his brazen head had tumbled to pieces, crying
+&ldquo;Time&rsquo;s Past,&rdquo; was the only palpable fragment
+among its minutely pulverised atoms, and which is still
+resplendent over the portals of its cognominal college.&nbsp;
+That nose, sir, is the only thing to which I shall take off my
+hat, in all this Babylon of buried literature.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;But, doctor, it is something to
+have a great reservoir of learning, at which some may draw if
+they please.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;But, here, good care is
+taken that nobody shall please.&nbsp; If even a small drop from
+the sacred fountain,
+&pi;&#8055;&delta;&alpha;&kappa;&omicron;&sigmaf; &#7952;&xi;
+&#7985;&epsilon;&rho;&#8134;&sigmaf;
+&#8000;&lambda;&#8055;&gamma;&eta;
+&lambda;&iota;&beta;&#8048;&sigmaf;, as Callimachus has it, were
+carried off by any one, it would be evidence of something to hope
+for.&nbsp; But the system of dissuasion from all good learning is
+brought here to a pitch of perfection that baffles the keenest
+aspirant.&nbsp; I run over to myself the names of the scholars of
+Germany, a glorious catalogue: but ask for those of
+Oxford,&mdash;Where are they?&nbsp; The echoes of their courts,
+as vacant as their heads, will answer, Where are they?&nbsp; The
+tree shall be known by its fruit: and seeing that this great
+tree, with all its specious seeming, brings forth no fruit, I do
+denounce it as a barren fig.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;I shall set you right on this
+point.&nbsp; We do nothing without motives.&nbsp; If learning get
+nothing but honour, and very little of that; and if the good
+things of this world, which ought to be the rewards of learning,
+become the mere gifts of self-interested patronage; you must not
+wonder if, in the finishing of education, the science which takes
+precedence of all others, should be the science of currying
+favour.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Very true, sir.&nbsp;
+Education is well finished, for all worldly purposes, when the
+head is brought into the state whereinto I am accustomed to bring
+a marrow-bone, when it has been set before me on a toast, with a
+white napkin wrapped round it.&nbsp; Nothing trundles along the
+high road of preferment so trimly as a well-biassed sconce,
+picked clean within and polished without; <i>totus teres atque
+rotundus</i>.&nbsp; The perfection of the finishing lies in the
+bias, which keeps it trundling in the given direction.&nbsp;
+There is good and sufficient reason for the fig being barren, but
+it is not therefore the less a barren fig.</p>
+<p>At Godstow, they gathered hazel on the grave of Rosamond; and,
+proceeding on their voyage, fell into a discussion on legendary
+histories.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;History is but a tiresome thing in
+itself: it becomes more agreeable the more romance is mixed up
+with it.&nbsp; The great enchanter has made me learn many things
+which I should never have dreamed of studying, if they had not
+come to me in the form of amusement.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;What enchanter is
+that?&nbsp; There are two enchanters: he of the north, and he of
+the south.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;Rossini!</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Ay, there is another
+enchanter.&nbsp; But I mean the great enchanter of Covent Garden:
+he who, for more than a quarter of a century, has produced two
+pantomimes a year, to the delight of children of all ages;
+including myself at all ages.&nbsp; That is the enchanter for
+me.&nbsp; I am for the pantomimes.&nbsp; All the northern
+enchanter&rsquo;s romances put together would not furnish
+materials for half the Southern enchanter&rsquo;s pantomimes.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Surely you do not class literature
+with pantomime?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;In these cases, I
+do.&nbsp; They are both one, with a slight difference.&nbsp; The
+one is the literature of pantomime, the other is the pantomime of
+literature.&nbsp; There is the same variety of character, the
+same diversity of story, the same copiousness of incident, the
+same research into costume, the same display of heraldry,
+falconry, minstrelsy, scenery, monkery, witchery, devilry,
+robbery, poachery, piracy, fishery, gipsy-astrology, demonology,
+architecture, fortification, castrametation, navigation; the same
+running base of love and battle.&nbsp; The main difference is,
+that the one set of amusing fictions is told in music and action;
+the other in all the worst dialects of the English
+language.&nbsp; As to any sentence worth remembering, any moral
+or political truth, anything having a tendency, however remote,
+to make men wiser or better, to make them think, to make them
+ever think of thinking; they are both precisely alike
+<i>nuspiam</i>, <i>nequaquam</i>, <i>nullibi</i>,
+<i>nullimodis</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Very amusing, however.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Very amusing, very
+amusing.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;My quarrel with the northern
+enchanter is, that he has grossly misrepresented the twelfth
+century.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;He has misrepresented
+everything, or he would not have been very amusing.&nbsp; Sober
+truth is but dull matter to the reading rabble.&nbsp; The angler,
+who puts not on his hook the bait that best pleases the fish, may
+sit all day on the bank without catching a gudgeon.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;But how do you mean that he has
+misrepresented the twelfth century?&nbsp; By exhibiting some of
+its knights and ladies in the colours of refinement and virtue,
+seeing that they were all no better than ruffians, and something
+else that shall be nameless?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;By no means.&nbsp; By depicting
+them as much worse than they were, not, as you suppose, much
+better.&nbsp; No one would infer from his pictures that theirs
+was a much better state of society than this which we live
+in.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;No, nor was it.&nbsp; It was a
+period of brutality, ignorance, fanaticism, and tyranny; when the
+land was covered with castles, and every castle contained a gang
+of banditti, headed by a titled robber, who levied contributions
+with fire and sword; plundering, torturing, ravishing, burying
+his captives in loathsome dungeons, and broiling them on
+gridirons, to force from them the surrender of every particle of
+treasure which he suspected them of possessing; and fighting
+every now and then with the neighbouring lords, his conterminal
+bandits, for the right of marauding on the boundaries.&nbsp; This
+was the twelfth century, as depicted by all contemporary
+historians and poets.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;No, sir.&nbsp; Weigh the evidence
+of specific facts; you will find more good than evil.&nbsp; Who
+was England&rsquo;s greatest hero&mdash;the mirror of chivalry,
+the pattern of honour, the fountain of generosity, the model to
+all succeeding ages of military glory?&nbsp; Richard the
+First.&nbsp; There is a king of the twelfth century.&nbsp; What
+was the first step of liberty?&nbsp; Magna Charta.&nbsp; That was
+the best thing ever done by lords.&nbsp; There are lords of the
+twelfth century.&nbsp; You must remember, too, that these lords
+were petty princes, and made war on each other as legitimately as
+the heads of larger communities did or do.&nbsp; For their system
+of revenue, it was, to be sure, more rough and summary than that
+which has succeeded it, but it was certainly less searching and
+less productive.&nbsp; And as to the people, I content myself
+with these great points: that every man was armed, every man was
+a good archer, every man could and would fight effectively, with
+sword or pike, or even with oaken cudgel; no man would live
+quietly without beef and ale if he had them not; he fought till
+he either got them, or was put out of condition to want
+them.&nbsp; They were not, and could not be, subjected to that
+powerful pressure of all the other classes of society, combined
+by gunpowder, steam, and <i>fiscality</i>, which has brought them
+to that dismal degradation in which we see them now.&nbsp; And
+there are the people of the twelfth century.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;As to your king, the enchanter has
+done him ample justice, even in your own view.&nbsp; As to your
+lords and their ladies, he has drawn them too favourably, given
+them too many of the false colours of chivalry, thrown too
+attractive a light on their abominable doings.&nbsp; As to the
+people, he keeps them so much in the background, that he can
+hardly be said to have represented them at all, much less
+misrepresented them, which indeed he could scarcely do, seeing
+that, by your own showing, they were all thieves, ready to knock
+down any man for what they could not come by honestly.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;No, sir.&nbsp; They could come
+honestly by beef and ale, while they were left to their simple
+industry.&nbsp; When oppression interfered with them in that,
+then they stood on the defensive, and fought for what they were
+not permitted to come by quietly.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;If A., being aggrieved by B.,
+knocks down C., do you call that standing on the defensive?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;That depends on who or what C.
+is.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Gentlemen, you will never
+settle this controversy till you have first settled what is good
+for man in this world; the great question, <i>de finibus</i>,
+which has puzzled all philosophers.&nbsp; If the enchanter has
+represented the twelfth century too brightly for one, and too
+darkly for the other of you, I should say, as an impartial man,
+he has represented it fairly.&nbsp; My quarrel with him is, that
+his works contain nothing worth quoting; and a book that
+furnishes no quotations, is <i>me judice</i>, no book&mdash;it is
+a plaything.&nbsp; There is no question about the
+amusement,&mdash;amusement of multitudes; but if he who amuses us
+most is to be our enchanter &kappa;&alpha;&tau;&rsquo;
+&#7952;&xi;&omicron;&chi;&#8052;&nu;, then my enchanter is the
+enchanter of Covent Garden.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER X.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE VOYAGE, CONTINUED.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>Continuant nostre routte, navigasmes par trois
+jours <i>sans rien descouvrir</i>.&mdash;<span
+class="smcap">Rabelais</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">There</span> is a beautiful
+structure,&rdquo; said Mr. Chainmail, as they glided by Lechlade
+church; &ldquo;a subject for the pencil, Captain.&nbsp; It is a
+question worth asking, Mr. Mac Quedy, whether the religious
+spirit which reared these edifices, and connected with them
+everywhere an asylum for misfortune, and a provision for poverty,
+was not better than the commercial spirit, which has turned all
+the business of modern life into schemes of profit and processes
+of fraud and extortion.&nbsp; I do not see, in all your boasted
+improvements, any compensation for the religious charity of the
+twelfth century.&nbsp; I do not see any compensation for that
+kindly feeling which, within their own little communities, bound
+the several classes of society together, while full scope was
+left for the development of natural character, wherein
+individuals differed as conspicuously as in costume.&nbsp; Now,
+we all wear one conventional dress, one conventional face; we
+have no bond of union but pecuniary interest; we talk anything
+that comes uppermost for talking&rsquo;s sake, and without
+expecting to be believed; we have no nature, no simplicity, no
+picturesqueness: everything about us is as artificial and as
+complicated as our steam-machinery: our poetry is a kaleidoscope
+of false imagery, expressing no real feeling, portraying no real
+existence.&nbsp; I do not see any compensation for the poetry of
+the twelfth century.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;I wonder to hear you, Mr.
+Chainmail, talking of the religious charity of a set of lazy
+monks and beggarly friars, who were much more occupied with
+taking than giving; of whom those who were in earnest did nothing
+but make themselves and everybody about them miserable with
+fastings and penances, and other such trash; and those who were
+not, did nothing but guzzle and royster, and, having no wives of
+their own, took very unbecoming liberties with those of honester
+men.&nbsp; And as to your poetry of the twelfth century, it is
+not good for much.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;It has, at any rate, what ours
+wants, truth to nature and simplicity of diction.</p>
+<p>The poetry, which was addressed to the people of the dark
+ages, pleased in proportion to the truth with which it depicted
+familiar images, and to their natural connection with the time
+and place to which they were assigned.&nbsp; In the poetry of our
+enlightened times, the characteristics of all seasons, soils, and
+climates may be blended together with much benefit to the
+author&rsquo;s fame as an original genius.&nbsp; The cowslip of a
+civic poet is always in blossom, his fern is always in full
+feather; he gathers the celandine, the primrose, the
+heath-flower, the jasmine, and the chrysanthemum all on the same
+day and from the same spot; his nightingale sings all the year
+round, his moon is always full, his cygnet is as white as his
+swan, his cedar is as tremulous as his aspen, and his poplar as
+embowering as his beech.&nbsp; Thus all nature marches with the
+march of mind; but among barbarians, instead of mead and wine,
+and the best seat by the fire, the reward of such a genius would
+have been to be summarily turned out of doors in the snow, to
+meditate on the difference between day and night and between
+December and July.&nbsp; It is an age of liberality, indeed, when
+not to know an oak from a burdock is no disqualification for
+sylvan minstrelsy.&nbsp; I am for truth and simplicity.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Let him who loves them
+read Greek: Greek, Greek, Greek.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;If he can, sir.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Very true, sir; if he
+can.&nbsp; Here is the Captain who can.&nbsp; But I think he must
+have finished his education at some very rigid college, where a
+quotation or any other overt act showing acquaintance with
+classical literature was visited with a severe penalty.&nbsp; For
+my part, I make it my boast that I was not to be so
+subdued.&nbsp; I could not be abated of a single quotation by all
+the bumpers in which I was fined.</p>
+<p>In this manner they glided over the face of the waters,
+discussing everything and settling nothing.&nbsp; Mr. Mac Quedy
+and the Reverend Doctor Folliott had many digladiations on
+political economy: wherein, each in his own view, Doctor Folliott
+demolished Mr. Mac Quedy&rsquo;s science, and Mr. Mac Quedy
+demolished Dr. Folliott&rsquo;s objections.</p>
+<p>We would print these dialogues if we thought anyone would read
+them; but the world is not yet ripe for this <i>haute sagesse
+Pantagrueline</i>.&nbsp; We must therefore content ourselves with
+an <i>&eacute;chantillon</i> of one of the Reverend
+Doctor&rsquo;s perorations.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have given the name of a science to what is yet an
+imperfect inquiry, and the upshot of your so-called science is
+this: that you increase the wealth of a nation by increasing in
+it the quantity of things which are produced by labour: no matter
+what they are, no matter how produced, no matter how
+distributed.&nbsp; The greater the quantity of labour that has
+gone to the production of the quantity of things in a community,
+the richer is the community.&nbsp; That is your doctrine.&nbsp;
+Now, I say, if this be so, riches are not the object for a
+community to aim at.&nbsp; I say the nation is best off, in
+relation to other nations, which has the greatest quantity of the
+common necessaries of life distributed among the greatest number
+of persons; which has the greatest number of honest hearts and
+stout arms united in a common interest, willing to offend no one,
+but ready to fight in defence of their own community against all
+the rest of the world, because they have something in it worth
+fighting for.&nbsp; The moment you admit that one class of
+things, without any reference to what they respectively cost, is
+better worth having than another; that a smaller commercial
+value, with one mode of distribution, is better than a greater
+commercial value, with another mode of distribution; the whole of
+that curious fabric of postulates and dogmas, which you call the
+science of political economy, and which I call <i>politic&aelig;
+&aelig;conomi&aelig; inscientia</i>, tumbles to
+pieces.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Toogood agreed with Mr. Chainmail against Mr. Mac Quedy,
+that the existing state of society was worse than that of the
+twelfth century; but he agreed with Mr. Mac Quedy against Mr.
+Chainmail, that it was in progress to something much better than
+either&mdash;to which &ldquo;something much better&rdquo; Mr.
+Toogood and Mr. Mac Quedy attached two very different
+meanings.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail fought with Doctor Folliott, the battle of the
+romantic against the classical in poetry; and Mr. Skionar
+contended with Mr. Mac Quedy for intuition and synthesis, against
+analysis and induction in philosophy.</p>
+<p>Mr. Philpot would lie along for hours, listening to the
+gurgling of the water round the prow, and would occasionally
+edify the company with speculations on the great changes that
+would be effected in the world by the steam-navigation of rivers:
+sketching the course of a steamboat up and down some mighty
+stream which civilisation had either never visited, or long since
+deserted; the Missouri and the Columbia, the Oroonoko and the
+Amazon, the Nile and the Niger, the Euphrates and the Tigris, the
+Oxus and the Indus, the Ganges and the Hoangho; under the over
+canopying forests of the new, or by the long-silent ruins of the
+ancient, world; through the shapeless mounds of Babylon, or the
+gigantic temples of Thebes.</p>
+<p>Mr. Trillo went on with the composition of his opera, and took
+the opinions of the young ladies on every step in its progress;
+occasionally regaling the company with specimens; and wondering
+at the blindness of Mr. Mac Quedy, who could not, or would not,
+see that an opera in perfection, being the union of all the
+beautiful arts&mdash;music, painting, dancing,
+poetry&mdash;exhibiting female beauty in its most attractive
+aspects, and in its most becoming costume&mdash;was, according to
+the well-known precept, <i>Ingenuas didicisse</i>, etc., the most
+efficient instrument of civilisation, and ought to take
+precedence of all other pursuits in the minds of true
+philanthropists.&nbsp; The Reverend Doctor Folliott, on these
+occasions, never failed to say a word or two on Mr.
+Trillo&rsquo;s side, derived from the practice of the Athenians,
+and from the combination, in their theatre, of all the beautiful
+arts, in a degree of perfection unknown to the modern world.</p>
+<p>Leaving Lechlade, they entered the canal that connects the
+Thames with the Severn; ascended by many locks; passed by a
+tunnel, three miles long, through the bowels of Sapperton Hill;
+agreed unanimously that the greatest pleasure derivable from
+visiting a cavern of any sort was that of getting out of it;
+descended by many locks again through the valley of Stroud into
+the Severn; continued their navigation into the Ellesmere canal;
+moored their pinnaces in the Vale of Llangollen by the aqueduct
+of Pontycysyllty; and determined to pass some days in inspecting
+the scenery, before commencing their homeward voyage.</p>
+<p>The Captain omitted no opportunity of pressing his suit on
+Lady Clarinda, but could never draw from her any reply but the
+same doctrines of worldly wisdom, delivered in a tone of
+<i>badinage</i>, mixed with a certain kindness of manner that
+induced him to hope she was not in earnest.</p>
+<p>But the morning after they had anchored under the hills of the
+Dee&mdash;whether the lady had reflected more seriously than
+usual, or was somewhat less in good humour than usual, or the
+Captain was more pressing than usual&mdash;she said to him:
+&ldquo;It must not be, Captain Fitzchrome; &lsquo;the course of
+true love never did run smooth:&rsquo; my father must keep his
+borough, and I must have a town house and a country house, and an
+opera box, and a carriage.&nbsp; It is not well for either of us
+that we should flirt any longer: &lsquo;I must be cruel only to
+be kind.&rsquo;&nbsp; Be satisfied with the assurance that you
+alone, of all men, have ever broken my rest.&nbsp; To be sure, it
+was only for about three nights in all; but that is too
+much.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Captain had <i>le c&oelig;ur navr&eacute;</i>.&nbsp; He
+took his portfolio under his arm, made up the little
+<i>valise</i> of a pedestrian, and, without saying a word to
+anyone, wandered off at random among the mountains.</p>
+<p>After the lapse of a day or two, the Captain was missed, and
+everyone marvelled what was become of him.&nbsp; Mr. Philpot
+thought he must have been exploring a river, and fallen in and
+got drowned in the process.&nbsp; Mr. Firedamp had no doubt he
+had been crossing a mountain bog, and had been suddenly deprived
+of life by the exhalations of marsh miasmata.&nbsp; Mr. Henbane
+deemed it probable that he had been tempted in some wood by the
+large black brilliant berries of the <i>Atropa Belladonna</i>, or
+Deadly Nightshade; and lamented that he had not been by, to
+administer an infallible antidote.&nbsp; Mr. Eavesdrop hoped the
+particulars of his fate would be ascertained; and asked if anyone
+present could help him to any authentic anecdotes of their
+departed friend.&nbsp; The Reverend Doctor Folliott proposed that
+an inquiry should be instituted as to whether the march of
+intellect had reached that neighbourhood, as, if so, the Captain
+had probably been made a subject for science.&nbsp; Mr. Mac Quedy
+said it was no such great matter to ascertain the precise mode in
+which the surplus population was diminished by one.&nbsp; Mr.
+Toogood asseverated that there was no such thing as surplus
+population, and that the land, properly managed, would maintain
+twenty times its present inhabitants; and hereupon they fell into
+a disputation.</p>
+<p>Lady Clarinda did not doubt that the Captain had gone away
+designedly; she missed him more than she could have anticipated,
+and wished she had at least postponed her last piece of cruelty
+till the completion of their homeward voyage.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">CORRESPONDENCE.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Base is the slave that
+pays.&rdquo;&mdash;<span class="smcap">Ancient Pistol</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Captain was neither drowned nor
+poisoned, neither miasmatised nor anatomised.&nbsp; But, before
+we proceed to account for him, we must look back to a young lady,
+of whom some little notice was taken in the first chapter; and
+who, though she has since been out of sight, has never with us
+been out of mind: Miss Susannah Touchandgo, the forsaken of the
+junior Crotchet, whom we left an inmate of a solitary farm, in
+one of the deep valleys under the cloud-capt summits of Meirion,
+comforting her wounded spirit with air and exercise, rustic
+cheer, music, painting, and poetry, and the prattle of the little
+Ap Llymrys.</p>
+<p>One evening, after an interval of anxious expectation, the
+farmer, returning from market brought for her two letters, of
+which the contents were these:</p>
+<blockquote><p style="text-align:
+right">&ldquo;<i>Dotandcarryonetown</i>, <i>State of
+Apodidraskiana</i>.<br />
+&ldquo;<i>April</i> 1, 18..</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">My dear Child</span>,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am anxious to learn what are your present position,
+intention, and prospects.&nbsp; The fairies who dropped gold in
+your shoe, on the morning when I ceased to be a respectable man
+in London, will soon find a talismanic channel for transmitting
+you a stocking full of dollars, which will fit the shoe as well
+as the foot of Cinderella fitted her slipper.&nbsp; I am happy to
+say I am again become a respectable man.&nbsp; It was always my
+ambition to be a respectable man, and I am a very respectable man
+here, in this new township of a new state, where I have purchased
+five thousand acres of land, at two dollars an acre, hard cash,
+and established a very flourishing bank.&nbsp; The notes of
+Touchandgo and Company, soft cash, are now the exclusive currency
+of all this vicinity.&nbsp; This is the land in which all men
+flourish; but there are three classes of men who flourish
+especially,&mdash;methodist preachers, slave-drivers, and
+paper-money manufacturers; and as one of the latter, I have just
+painted the word BANK on a fine slab of maple, which was green
+and growing when I arrived, and have discounted for the settlers,
+in my own currency, sundry bills, which are to be paid when the
+proceeds of the crop they have just sown shall return from New
+Orleans; so that my notes are the representatives of vegetation
+that is to be, and I am accordingly a capitalist of the first
+magnitude.&nbsp; The people here know very well that I ran away
+from London; but the most of them have run away from some place
+or other; and they have a great respect for me, because they
+think I ran away with something worth taking, which few of them
+had the luck or the wit to do.&nbsp; This gives them confidence
+in my resources, at the same time that, as there is nothing
+portable in the settlement except my own notes, they have no fear
+that I shall run away with them.&nbsp; They know I am thoroughly
+conversant with the principles of banking, and as they have
+plenty of industry, no lack of sharpness, and abundance of land,
+they wanted nothing but capital to organise a flourishing
+settlement; and this capital I have manufactured to the extent
+required, at the expense of a small importation of pens, ink, and
+paper, and two or three inimitable copper plates.&nbsp; I have
+abundance here of all good things, a good conscience included;
+for I really cannot see that I have done any wrong.&nbsp; This
+was my position: I owed half a million of money; and I had a
+trifle in my pocket.&nbsp; It was clear that this trifle could
+never find its way to the right owner.&nbsp; The question was,
+whether I should keep it, and live like a gentleman; or hand it
+over to lawyers and commissioners of bankruptcy, and die like a
+dog on a dunghill.&nbsp; If I could have thought that the said
+lawyers, etc., had a better title to it than myself, I might have
+hesitated; but, as such title was not apparent to my
+satisfaction, I decided the question in my own favour, the right
+owners, as I have already said, being out of the question
+altogether.&nbsp; I have always taken scientific views of morals
+and politics, a habit from which I derive much comfort under
+existing circumstances.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you adhere to your music, though I cannot hope
+again to accompany your harp with my flute.&nbsp; My last
+<i>andante</i> movement was too <i>forte</i> for those whom it
+took by surprise.&nbsp; Let not your <i>allegro vivace</i> be
+damped by young Crotchet&rsquo;s desertion, which, though I have
+not heard it, I take for granted.&nbsp; He is, like myself, a
+scientific politician, and has an eye as keen as a needle to his
+own interest.&nbsp; He has had good luck so far, and is gorgeous
+in the spoils of many gulls; but I think the Polar Basin and
+Walrus Company will be too much for him yet.&nbsp; There has been
+a splendid outlay on credit, and he is the only man, of the
+original parties concerned, of whom his Majesty&rsquo;s sheriffs
+could give any account.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will not ask you to come here.&nbsp; There is no
+husband for you.&nbsp; The men smoke, drink, and fight, and break
+more of their own heads than of girls&rsquo; hearts.&nbsp; Those
+among them who are musical, sing nothing but psalms.&nbsp; They
+are excellent fellows in their way, but you would not like
+them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Au reste</i>, here are no rents, no taxes, no
+poor-rates, no tithes, no church establishment, no routs, no
+clubs, no rotten boroughs, no operas, no concerts, no theatres,
+no beggars, no thieves, no king, no lords, no ladies, and only
+one gentleman, videlicet, your loving father,</p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">&ldquo;Timothy
+Touchandgo</span>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;P.S.&mdash;I send you one of my notes; I can afford to
+part with it.&nbsp; If you are accused of receiving money from
+me, you may pay it over to my assignees.&nbsp; Robthetill
+continues to be my factotum; I say no more of him in this place:
+he will give you an account of himself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">&ldquo;<i>Dotandcarryonetown</i>,
+<i>etc.</i></p>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Dear Miss</span>,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Touchandgo will have told you of our arrival here,
+of our setting up a bank, and so forth.&nbsp; We came here in a
+tilted waggon, which served us for parlour, kitchen, and
+all.&nbsp; We soon got up a log-house; and, unluckily, we as soon
+got it down again, for the first fire we made in it burned down
+house and all.&nbsp; However, our second experiment was more
+fortunate; and we are pretty well lodged in a house of three
+rooms on a floor; I should say the floor, for there is but
+one.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This new state is free to hold slaves; all the new
+states have not this privilege: Mr. Touchandgo has bought some,
+and they are building him a villa.&nbsp; Mr. Touchandgo is in a
+thriving way, but he is not happy here: he longs for parties and
+concerts, and a seat in Congress.&nbsp; He thinks it very hard
+that he cannot buy one with his own coinage, as he used to do in
+England.&nbsp; Besides, he is afraid of the Regulators, who, if
+they do not like a man&rsquo;s character, wait upon him and flog
+him, doubling the dose at stated intervals, till he takes himself
+off.&nbsp; He does not like this system of administering justice:
+though I think he has nothing to fear from it.&nbsp; He has the
+character of having money, which is the best of all characters
+here, as at home.&nbsp; He lets his old English prejudices
+influence his opinions of his new neighbours; but, I assure you,
+they have many virtues.&nbsp; Though they do keep slaves, they
+are all ready to fight for their own liberty; and I should not
+like to be an enemy within reach of one of their rifles.&nbsp;
+When I say enemy, I include bailiff in the term.&nbsp; One was
+shot not long ago.&nbsp; There was a trial; the jury gave two
+dollars damages; the judge said they must find guilty or not
+guilty; but the counsel for the defendant (they would not call
+him prisoner) offered to fight the judge upon the point: and as
+this was said literally, not metaphorically, and the counsel was
+a stout fellow, the judge gave in. The two dollars damages were
+not paid after all; for the defendant challenged the foreman to
+box for double or quits, and the foreman was beaten.&nbsp; The
+folks in New York made a great outcry about it, but here it was
+considered all as it should be.&nbsp; So you see, Miss, justice,
+liberty, and everything else of that kind, are different in
+different places, just as suits the convenience of those who have
+the sword in their own hands.&nbsp; Hoping to hear of your health
+and happiness, I remain,</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">&ldquo;Dear Miss, your dutiful
+servant,<br />
+&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Roderick Robthetill</span>.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Miss Touchandgo replied as follows to the first of these
+letters:</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">My Dear
+Father</span>,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure you have the best of hearts, and I have no
+doubt you have acted with the best intentions.&nbsp; My lover,
+or, I should rather say, my fortune&rsquo;s lover, has indeed
+forsaken me.&nbsp; I cannot say I did not feel it; indeed, I
+cried very much; and the altered looks of people who used to be
+so delighted to see me, really annoyed me so, that I determined
+to change the scene altogether.&nbsp; I have come into Wales, and
+am boarding with a farmer and his wife.&nbsp; Their stock of
+English is very small; but I managed to agree with them, and they
+have four of the sweetest children I ever saw, to whom I teach
+all I know, and I manage to pick up some Welsh.&nbsp; I have
+puzzled out a little song, which I think very pretty; I have
+translated it into English, and I send it you, with the original
+air.&nbsp; You shall play it on your flute at eight o&rsquo;clock
+every Saturday evening, and I will play and sing it at the same
+time, and I will fancy that I hear my dear papa accompanying
+me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The people in London said very unkind things of you:
+they hurt me very much at the time; but now I am out of their
+way, I do not seem to think their opinion of much
+consequence.&nbsp; I am sure, when I recollect, at leisure,
+everything I have seen and heard among them, I cannot make out
+what they do that is so virtuous, as to set them up for judges of
+morals.&nbsp; And I am sure they never speak the truth about
+anything, and there is no sincerity in either their love or their
+friendship.&nbsp; An old Welsh bard here, who wears a waistcoat
+embroidered with leeks, and is called the Green Bard of Cadeir
+Idris, says the Scotch would be the best people in the world, if
+there was nobody but themselves to give them a character: and so
+I think would the Londoners.&nbsp; I hate the very thought of
+them, for I do believe they would have broken my heart, if I had
+not got out of their way.&nbsp; Now I shall write you another
+letter very soon, and describe to you the country, and the
+people, and the children, and how I amuse myself, and everything
+that I think you will like to hear about: and when I seal this
+letter, I shall drop a kiss on the cover.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">&ldquo;Your loving daughter,</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Susannah
+Touchandgo</span>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;P.S.&mdash;Tell Mr. Robthetill I will write to him in a
+day or two.&nbsp; This is the little song I spoke of:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,<br />
+My heart is gone, far, far from me;<br />
+And ever on its track will flee<br />
+My thoughts, my dreams, beyond the sea.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,<br />
+The swallow wanders fast and free;<br />
+Oh, happy bird! were I like thee,<br />
+I, too, would fly beyond the sea.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,<br />
+Are kindly hearts and social glee:<br />
+But here for me they may not be;<br />
+My heart is gone beyond the sea.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE MOUNTAIN INN.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>&lsquo;&Omega;&sigmaf; &#7969;&delta;&#8058;
+&tau;&#8180; &mu;&iota;&sigma;&omicron;&#8166;&tau;&iota;
+&tau;&omicron;&#8058;&sigmaf;
+&phi;&alpha;&#8059;&lambda;&omicron;&upsilon;&sigmaf;
+&pi;&rho;&#8057;&pi;&omicron;&upsilon;&sigmaf;<br />
+&rsquo;&Epsilon;&rho;&eta;&mu;&#8055;&alpha;.</p>
+<p>How sweet to minds that love not sordid ways<br />
+Is solitude!&mdash;<span class="smcap">Menander</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Captain wandered despondingly
+up and down hill for several days, passing many hours of each in
+sitting on rocks; making, almost mechanically, sketches of
+waterfalls, and mountain pools; taking care, nevertheless, to be
+always before nightfall in a comfortable inn, where, being a
+temperate man, he whiled away the evening with making a bottle of
+sherry into negus.&nbsp; His rambles brought him at length into
+the interior of Merionethshire, the land of all that is beautiful
+in nature, and all that is lovely in woman.</p>
+<p>Here, in a secluded village, he found a little inn, of small
+pretension and much comfort.&nbsp; He felt so satisfied with his
+quarters, and discovered every day so much variety in the scenes
+of the surrounding mountains, that his inclination to proceed
+farther diminished progressively.</p>
+<p>It is one thing to follow the high road through a country,
+with every principally remarkable object carefully noted down in
+a book, taking, as therein directed, a guide, at particular
+points, to the more recondite sights: it is another to sit down
+on one chosen spot, especially when the choice is unpremeditated,
+and from thence, by a series of explorations, to come day by day
+on unanticipated scenes.&nbsp; The latter process has many
+advantages over the former; it is free from the disappointment
+which attends excited expectation, when imagination has
+outstripped reality, and from the accidents that mar the scheme
+of the tourist&rsquo;s single day, when the valleys may be
+drenched with rain, or the mountains shrouded with mist.</p>
+<p>The Captain was one morning preparing to sally forth on his
+usual exploration, when he heard a voice without, inquiring for a
+guide to the ruined castle.&nbsp; The voice seemed familiar to
+him, and going forth into the gateway, he recognised Mr.
+Chainmail.&nbsp; After greetings and inquiries for the absent:
+&ldquo;You vanished very abruptly, Captain,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Chainmail, &ldquo;from our party on the canal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;To tell you the truth, I had
+a particular reason for trying the effect of absence from a part
+of that party.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;I surmised as much: at the same
+time, the unusual melancholy of an in general most vivacious
+young lady made me wonder at your having acted so
+precipitately.&nbsp; The lady&rsquo;s heart is yours, if there be
+truth in signs.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Hearts are not now what they
+were in the days of the old song: &ldquo;Will love be controlled
+by advice?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Very true; hearts, heads, and arms
+have all degenerated, most sadly.&nbsp; We can no more feel the
+high impassioned love of the ages, which some people have the
+impudence to call dark, than we can wield King Richard&rsquo;s
+battleaxe, bend Robin Hood&rsquo;s bow, or flourish the oaken
+graft of the Pindar of Wakefield.&nbsp; Still we have our tastes
+and feelings, though they deserve not the name of passions; and
+some of us may pluck up spirit to try to carry a point, when we
+reflect that we have to contend with men no better than
+ourselves.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;We do not now break lances
+for ladies.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;No; nor even bulrushes.&nbsp; We
+jingle purses for them, flourish paper-money banners, and tilt
+with scrolls of parchment.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;In which sort of tilting I
+have been thrown from the saddle.&nbsp; I presume it was not love
+that led you from the flotilla?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;By no means.&nbsp; I was tempted
+by the sight of an old tower, not to leave this land of ruined
+castles, without having collected a few hints for the adornment
+of my baronial hall.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;I understand you live <i>en
+famille</i> with your domestics.&nbsp; You will have more
+difficulty in finding a lady who would adopt your fashion of
+living, than one who would prefer you to a richer man.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Very true.&nbsp; I have tried the
+experiment on several as guests; but once was enough for them:
+so, I suppose, I shall die a bachelor.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;I see, like some others of my
+friends, you will give up anything except your hobby.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;I will give up anything but my
+baronial hall.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;You will never find a wife
+for your purpose, unless in the daughter of some old-fashioned
+farmer.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;No, I thank you.&nbsp; I must have
+a lady of gentle blood; I shall not marry below my own condition:
+I am too much of a herald; I have too much of the twelfth century
+in me for that.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Why, then your chance is not
+much better than mine.&nbsp; A well-born beauty would scarcely be
+better pleased with your baronial hall than with my more humble
+offer of love in a cottage.&nbsp; She must have a town-house, and
+an opera-box, and roll about the streets in a carriage;
+especially if her father has a rotten borough, for the sake of
+which he sells his daughter, that he may continue to sell his
+country.&nbsp; But you were inquiring for a guide to the ruined
+castle in this vicinity; I know the way and will conduct you.</p>
+<p>The proposal pleased Mr. Chainmail, and they set forth on
+their expedition.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE LAKE&mdash;THE RUIN.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>Or vieni, Amore, e qu&agrave; meco
+t&rsquo;assetta.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Orlando
+Innamorato</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Would it not be a fine thing,
+Captain, you being picturesque, and I poetical; you being for the
+lights and shadows of the present, and I for those of the past;
+if we were to go together over the ground which was travelled in
+the twelfth century by Giraldus de Barri, when he accompanied
+Archbishop Baldwin to preach the crusade?</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Nothing, in my present frame
+of mind, could be more agreeable to me.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;We would provide ourselves with
+his <i>Itinerarium</i>; compare what has been, with what is;
+contemplate in their decay the castles and abbeys, which he saw
+in their strength and splendour; and, while you were sketching
+their remains, I would dispassionately inquire what has been
+gained by the change.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Be it so.</p>
+<p>But the scheme was no sooner arranged, than the Captain was
+summoned to London by a letter on business, which he did not
+expect to detain him long.&nbsp; Mr. Chainmail, who, like the
+Captain, was fascinated with the inn and the scenery, determined
+to await his companion&rsquo;s return; and, having furnished him
+with a list of books, which he was to bring with him from London,
+took leave of him, and began to pass his days like the heroes of
+Ariosto, who</p>
+<blockquote><p>&mdash;tutto il giorno, al bel oprar intenti,<br
+/>
+Saliron balze, e traversar torrenti.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>One day Mr. Chainmail traced upwards the course of a mountain
+stream to a spot where a small waterfall threw itself over a slab
+of perpendicular rock, which seemed to bar his farther
+progress.&nbsp; On a nearer view, he discovered a flight of
+steps, roughly hewn in the rock, on one side of the fall.&nbsp;
+Ascending these steps, he entered a narrow winding pass, between
+high and naked rocks, that afforded only space for a rough
+footpath, carved on one side, at some height above the
+torrent.</p>
+<p>The pass opened on a lake, from which the stream issued, and
+which lay like a dark mirror, set in a gigantic frame of mountain
+precipices.&nbsp; Fragments of rock lay scattered on the edge of
+the lake, some half-buried in the water: Mr. Chainmail scrambled
+some way over these fragments, till the base of a rock sinking
+abruptly in the water, effectually barred his progress.&nbsp; He
+sat down on a large smooth stone; the faint murmur of the stream
+he had quitted, the occasional flapping of the wings of the
+heron, and at long intervals, the solitary springing of a trout,
+were the only sounds that came to his ear.&nbsp; The sun shone
+brightly half-way down the opposite rocks, presenting, on their
+irregular faces, strong masses of light and shade.&nbsp; Suddenly
+he heard the dash of a paddle, and, turning his eyes, saw a
+solitary and beautiful girl gliding over the lake in a coracle:
+she was proceeding from the vicinity of the point he had quitted,
+towards the upper end of the lake.&nbsp; Her apparel was rustic,
+but there was in its style something more
+<i>recherch&eacute;e</i>, in its arrangement something more of
+elegance and precision, than was common to the mountain peasant
+girl.&nbsp; It had more of the <i>contadina</i> of the opera,
+than of the genuine mountaineer; so at least thought Mr.
+Chainmail; but she passed so rapidly, and took him so much by
+surprise, that he had little opportunity for accurate
+observation.&nbsp; He saw her land, at the farther extremity, and
+disappear among the rocks: he rose from his seat, returned to the
+mouth of the pass, stepped from stone to stone across the stream,
+and attempted to pass round by the other side of the lake; but
+there again the abruptly sinking precipice closed his way.</p>
+<p>Day after day he haunted the spot, but never saw again either
+the damsel or the coracle.&nbsp; At length, marvelling at himself
+for being so solicitous about the apparition of a peasant girl in
+a coracle, who could not, by any possibility, be anything to him,
+he resumed his explorations in another direction.</p>
+<p>One day he wandered to the ruined castle, on the sea-shore,
+which was not very distant from his inn; and sitting on the rock,
+near the base of the ruin, was calling up the forms of past ages
+on the wall of an ivied tower, when on its summit appeared a
+female figure, whom he recognised in an instant for his nymph of
+the coracle.&nbsp; The folds of the blue gown pressed by the
+sea-breeze against one of the most symmetrical of figures, the
+black feather of the black hat, and the ringleted hair beneath it
+fluttering in the wind; the apparent peril of her position, on
+the edge of the mouldering wall, from whose immediate base the
+rock went down perpendicularly to the sea, presented a singularly
+interesting combination to the eye of the young antiquary.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail had to pass half round the castle, on the land
+side, before he could reach the entrance: he coasted the dry and
+bramble-grown moat, crossed the unguarded bridge, passed the
+unportcullised arch of the gateway, entered the castle court,
+ascertained the tower, ascended the broken stairs, and stood on
+the ivied wall.&nbsp; But the nymph of the place was gone.&nbsp;
+He searched the ruins within and without, but he found not what
+he sought: he haunted the castle day after day, as he had done
+the lake, but the damsel appeared no more.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE DINGLE.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>The stars of midnight shall be dear<br />
+To her, and she shall lean her ear<br />
+In many a secret place,<br />
+Where rivulets dance their wayward round,<br />
+And beauty, born of murmuring sound,<br />
+Shall pass into her face.&mdash;<span
+class="smcap">Wordsworth</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">Miss Susannah Touchandgo</span> had read
+the four great poets of Italy, and many of the best writers of
+France.&nbsp; About the time of her father&rsquo;s downfall,
+accident threw into her way <i>Les R&eacute;veries du Promeneur
+Solitaire</i>; and from the impression which these made on her,
+she carried with her into retirement all the works of
+Rousseau.&nbsp; In the midst of that startling light, which the
+conduct of old friends on a sudden reverse of fortune throws on a
+young and inexperienced mind, the doctrines of the philosopher of
+Geneva struck with double force upon her sympathies: she imbibed
+the sweet poison, as somebody calls it, of his writings, even to
+a love of truth; which, every wise man knows, ought to be left to
+those who can get anything by it.&nbsp; The society of children,
+the beauties of nature, the solitude of the mountains, became her
+consolation, and, by degrees, her delight.&nbsp; The gay society
+from which she had been excluded, remained on her memory only as
+a disagreeable dream.&nbsp; She imbibed her new monitor&rsquo;s
+ideas of simplicity of dress, assimilating her own with that of
+the peasant-girls in the neighbourhood: the black hat, the blue
+gown, the black stockings, the shoes, tied on the instep.</p>
+<p>Pride was, perhaps, at the bottom of the change: she was
+willing to impose in some measure on herself, by marking a
+contemptuous indifference to the characteristics of the class of
+society from which she had fallen.</p>
+<blockquote><p>And with the food of pride sustained her soul<br
+/>
+In solitude.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>It is true that she somewhat modified the forms of her rustic
+dress: to the black hat she added a black feather, to the blue
+gown she added a tippet, and a waistband fastened in front with a
+silver buckle; she wore her black stockings very smooth and tight
+on her ankles, and tied her shoes in tasteful bows, with the
+nicest possible ribbon.&nbsp; In this apparel, to which, in
+winter, she added a scarlet cloak, she made dreadful havoc among
+the rustic mountaineers, many of whom proposed to &ldquo;keep
+company&rdquo; with her in the Cambrian fashion, an honour which,
+to their great surprise, she always declined.&nbsp; Among these,
+Harry Ap-Heather, whose father rented an extensive sheepwalk, and
+had a thousand she-lambs wandering in the mountains, was the most
+strenuous in his suit, and the most pathetic in his lamentations
+for her cruelty.</p>
+<p>Miss Susannah often wandered among the mountains alone, even
+to some distance from the farmhouse.&nbsp; Sometimes she
+descended into the bottom of the dingles, to the black rocky beds
+of the torrents, and dreamed away hours at the feet of the
+cataracts.&nbsp; One spot in particular, from which she had at
+first shrunk with terror, became by degrees her favourite
+haunt.&nbsp; A path turning and returning at acute angles, led
+down a steep wood-covered slope to the edge of a chasm, where a
+pool, or resting-place of a torrent, lay far below.&nbsp; A
+cataract fell in a single sheet into the pool; the pool boiled
+and bubbled at the base of the fall, but through the greater part
+of its extent, lay calm, deep, and black, as if the cataract had
+plunged through it to an unimaginable depth, without disturbing
+its eternal repose.&nbsp; At the opposite extremity of the pool,
+the rocks almost met at their summits, the trees of the opposite
+banks intermingled their leaves, and another cataract plunged
+from the pool into a chasm, on which the sunbeams never
+gleamed.&nbsp; High above, on both sides, the steep woody slopes
+of the dingle soared into the sky; and from a fissure in the
+rock, on which the little path terminated, a single gnarled and
+twisted oak stretched itself over the pool, forming a fork with
+its boughs at a short distance from the rock.&nbsp; Miss Susannah
+often sat on the rock, with her feet resting on this tree; in
+time, she made her seat on the tree itself, with her feet hanging
+over the abyss; and at length, she accustomed herself to lie
+along upon its trunk, with her side on the mossy bole of the
+fork, and an arm round one of the branches.&nbsp; From this
+position a portion of the sky and the woods was reflected in the
+pool, which, from its bank, was but a mass of darkness.&nbsp; The
+first time she reclined in this manner, her heart beat audibly;
+in time she lay down as calmly as on the mountain heather; the
+perception of the sublime was probably heightened by an
+intermingled sense of danger; and perhaps that indifference to
+life, which early disappointment forces upon sensitive minds, was
+necessary to the first experiment.&nbsp; There was, in the
+novelty and strangeness of the position, an excitement which
+never wholly passed away, but which became gradually subordinate
+to the influence, at once tranquillising and elevating, of the
+mingled eternity of motion, sound, and solitude.</p>
+<p>One sultry noon, she descended into this retreat with a mind
+more than usually disturbed by reflections on the past.&nbsp; She
+lay in her favourite position, sometimes gazing on the cataract;
+looking sometimes up the steep sylvan acclivities, into the
+narrow space of the cloudless ether; sometimes down into the
+abyss of the pool, and the deep bright-blue reflections that
+opened another immensity below her.&nbsp; The distressing
+recollections of the morning, the world and all its littlenesses,
+faded from her thoughts like a dream; but her wounded and wearied
+spirit drank in too deeply the tranquillising power of the place,
+and she dropped asleep upon the tree like a ship-boy on the
+mast.</p>
+<p>At this moment Mr. Chainmail emerged into daylight, on a
+projection of the opposite rock, having struck down through the
+woods in search of unsophisticated scenery.&nbsp; The scene he
+discovered filled him with delight: he seated himself on the
+rock, and fell into one of his romantic reveries; when suddenly
+the semblance of a black hat and feather caught his eye among the
+foliage of the projecting oak.&nbsp; He started up, shifted his
+position, and got a glimpse of a blue gown.&nbsp; It was his lady
+of the lake, his enchantress of the ruined castle, divided from
+him by a barrier which, at a few yards below, he could almost
+overleap, yet unapproachable but by a circuit perhaps of many
+hours.&nbsp; He watched with intense anxiety.&nbsp; To listen if
+she breathed was out of the question: the noses of a dean and
+chapter would have been soundless in the roar of the
+torrent.&nbsp; From her extreme stillness, she appeared to sleep:
+yet what creature, not desperate, would go wilfully to sleep in
+such a place?&nbsp; Was she asleep, then?&nbsp; Nay, was she
+alive?&nbsp; She was as motionless as death.&nbsp; Had she been
+murdered, thrown from above, and caught in the tree?&nbsp; She
+lay too regularly and too composedly for such a
+supposition.&nbsp; She was asleep, then, and, in all probability,
+her waking would be fatal.&nbsp; He shifted his position.&nbsp;
+Below the pool two beetle-browed rocks nearly overarched the
+chasm, leaving just such a space at the summit as was within the
+possibility of a leap; the torrent roared below in a fearful
+gulf.&nbsp; He paused some time on the brink, measuring the
+practicability and the danger, and casting every now and then an
+anxious glance to his sleeping beauty.&nbsp; In one of these
+glances he saw a slight movement of the blue gown, and, in a
+moment after, the black hat and feather dropped into the
+pool.&nbsp; Reflection was lost for a moment, and, by a sudden
+impulse, he bounded over the chasm.</p>
+<p>He stood above the projecting oak; the unknown beauty lay like
+the nymph of the scene; her long black hair, which the fall of
+her hat had disengaged from its fastenings, drooping through the
+boughs: he saw that the first thing to be done, was to prevent
+her throwing her feet off the trunk, in the first movements of
+waking.&nbsp; He sat down on the rock, and placed his feet on the
+stem, securing her ankles between his own: one of her arms was
+round a branch of the fork, the other lay loosely on her
+side.&nbsp; The hand of this arm he endeavoured to reach, by
+leaning forward from his seat; he approximated, but could not
+touch it: after several tantalising efforts, he gave up the point
+in despair.&nbsp; He did not attempt to wake her, because he
+feared it might have bad consequences, and he resigned himself to
+expect the moment of her natural waking, determined not to stir
+from his post, if she should sleep till midnight.</p>
+<p>In this period of forced inaction, he could contemplate at
+leisure the features and form of his charmer.&nbsp; She was not
+one of the slender beauties of romance; she was as plump as a
+partridge; her cheeks were two roses, not absolutely damask, yet
+verging thereupon; her lips twin-cherries, of equal size; her
+nose regular, and almost Grecian; her forehead high, and
+delicately fair; her eyebrows symmetrically arched; her
+eyelashes, long, black, and silky, fitly corresponding with the
+beautiful tresses that hung among the leaves of the oak, like
+clusters of wandering grapes.&nbsp; Her eyes were yet to be seen;
+but how could he doubt that their opening would be the rising of
+the sun, when all that surrounded their fringy portals was
+radiant as &ldquo;the forehead of the morning sky?&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE FARM.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>Da ydyw&rsquo;r gwaith, rhaid d&rsquo;we&rsquo;yd
+y gwir,<br />
+Ar fryniau Sir Meirionydd;<br />
+Golwg oer o&rsquo;r gwaela gawn<br />
+Mae hi etto yn llawn llawenydd.</p>
+<p>Though Meirion&rsquo;s rocks, and hills of heath,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Repel the distant sight,<br />
+Yet where, than those bleak hills beneath,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Is found more true delight?</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">At</span> length the young lady
+awoke.&nbsp; She was startled at the sudden sight of the
+stranger, and somewhat terrified at the first perception of her
+position.&nbsp; But she soon recovered her self-possession, and,
+extending her hand to the offered hand of Mr. Chainmail, she
+raised herself up on the tree, and stepped on the rocky bank.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail solicited permission to attend her to her home,
+which the young lady graciously conceded.&nbsp; They emerged from
+the woody dingle, traversed an open heath, wound along a mountain
+road by the shore of a lake, descended to the deep bed of another
+stream, crossed it by a series of stepping-stones, ascended to
+some height on the opposite side, and followed upwards the line
+of the stream, till the banks opened into a spacious
+amphitheatre, where stood, in its fields and meadows, the
+farmhouse of Ap-Llymry.</p>
+<p>During this walk, they had kept up a pretty animated
+conversation.&nbsp; The lady had lost her hat, and, as she turned
+towards Mr. Chainmail, in speaking to him, there was no envious
+projection of brim to intercept the beams of those radiant eyes
+he had been so anxious to see unclosed.&nbsp; There was in them a
+mixture of softness and brilliancy, the perfection of the beauty
+of female eyes, such as some men have passed through life without
+seeing, and such as no man ever saw, in any pair of eyes, but
+once; such as can never be seen and forgotten.&nbsp; Young
+Crotchet had seen it; he had not forgotten it; but he had
+trampled on its memory, as the renegade tramples on the emblems
+of a faith which his interest only, and not his heart or his
+reason, has rejected.</p>
+<p>Her hair streamed over her shoulders; the loss of the black
+feather had left nothing but the rustic costume, the blue gown,
+the black stockings, and the ribbon-tied shoes.&nbsp; Her voice
+had that full soft volume of melody which gives to common speech
+the fascination of music.&nbsp; Mr. Chainmail could not reconcile
+the dress of the damsel with her conversation and manners.&nbsp;
+He threw out a remote question or two, with the hope of solving
+the riddle, but, receiving no reply, he became satisfied that she
+was not disposed to be communicative respecting herself, and,
+fearing to offend her, fell upon other topics.&nbsp; They talked
+of the scenes of the mountains, of the dingle, the ruined castle,
+the solitary lake.&nbsp; She told him, that lake lay under the
+mountains behind her home, and the coracle and the pass at the
+extremity, saved a long circuit to the nearest village, whither
+she sometimes went to inquire for letters.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail felt curious to know from whom these letters
+might be; and he again threw out two or three fishing questions,
+to which, as before, he obtained no answer.</p>
+<p>The only living biped they met in their walk was the
+unfortunate Harry Ap-Heather, with whom they fell in by the
+stepping-stones, who, seeing the girl of his heart hanging on
+another man&rsquo;s arm, and, concluding at once that they were
+&ldquo;keeping company,&rdquo; fixed on her a mingled look of
+surprise, reproach, and tribulation; and, unable to control his
+feelings under the sudden shock, burst into a flood of tears, and
+blubbered till the rocks re-echoed.</p>
+<p>They left him mingling his tears with the stream, and his
+lamentations with its murmurs.&nbsp; Mr. Chainmail inquired who
+that strange creature might be, and what was the matter with
+him.&nbsp; The young lady answered, that he was a very worthy
+young man, to whom she had been the innocent cause of much
+unhappiness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I pity him sincerely,&rdquo; said Mr. Chainmail and,
+nevertheless, he could scarcely restrain his laughter at the
+exceedingly original figure which the unfortunate rustic lover
+had presented by the stepping-stones.</p>
+<p>The children ran out to meet their dear Miss Susan, jumped all
+round her, and asked what was become of her hat.&nbsp; Ap-Llymry
+came out in great haste, and invited Mr. Chainmail to walk in and
+dine: Mr. Chainmail did not wait to be asked twice.&nbsp; In a
+few minutes the whole party, Miss Susan and Mr. Chainmail, Mr.
+and Mrs. Ap-Llymry, and progeny, were seated over a clean
+homespun table cloth, ornamented with fowls and bacon, a pyramid
+of potatoes, another of cabbage, which Ap-Llymry said &ldquo;was
+poiled with the pacon, and as coot as marrow,&rdquo; a bowl of
+milk for the children, and an immense brown jug of foaming ale,
+with which Ap-Llymry seemed to delight in filling the horn of his
+new guest.</p>
+<p>Shall we describe the spacious apartment, which was at once
+kitchen, hall, and dining-room,&mdash;the large dark rafters, the
+pendent bacon and onions, the strong old oaken furniture, the
+bright and trimly-arranged utensils?&nbsp; Shall we describe the
+cut of Ap-Llymry&rsquo;s coat, the colour and tie of his
+neckcloth, the number of buttons at his knees,&mdash;the
+structure of Mrs. Ap-Llymry&rsquo;s cap, having lappets over the
+ears, which were united under the chin, setting forth especially
+whether the bond of union were a pin or a ribbon?&nbsp; We shall
+leave this tempting field of interesting expatiation to those
+whose brains are high-pressure steam-engines for spinning prose
+by the furlong, to be trumpeted in paid-for paragraphs in the
+quack&rsquo;s corner of newspapers: modern literature having
+attained the honourable distinction of sharing, with blacking and
+Macassar oil, the space which used to be monopolised by
+razor-strops and the lottery; whereby that very enlightened
+community, the reading public, is tricked into the perusal of
+much exemplary nonsense; though the few who see through the
+trickery have no reason to complain, since as &ldquo;good wine
+needs no bush,&rdquo; so, <i>ex vi oppositi</i>, these bushes of
+venal panegyric point out very clearly that the things they
+celebrate are not worth reading.</p>
+<p>The party dined very comfortably in a corner most remote from
+the fire: and Mr. Chainmail very soon found his head swimming
+with two or three horns of ale, of a potency to which even he was
+unaccustomed.&nbsp; After dinner Ap-Llymry made him finish a
+bottle of mead, which he willingly accepted, both as an excuse to
+remain and as a drink of the dark ages, which he had no doubt was
+a genuine brewage from uncorrupted tradition.</p>
+<p>In the meantime, as soon as the cloth was removed, the
+children had brought out Miss Susannah&rsquo;s harp.&nbsp; She
+began, without affectation, to play and sing to the children, as
+was her custom of an afternoon, first in their own language, and
+their national melodies, then in English; but she was soon
+interrupted by a general call of little voices for &ldquo;Ouf! di
+giorno.&rdquo;&nbsp; She complied with the request, and sang the
+ballad from Pa&euml;r&rsquo;s <i>Camilla</i>: &ldquo;Un d&igrave;
+carco il mulinaro.&rdquo;&nbsp; The children were very familiar
+with every syllable of this ballad, which had been often fully
+explained to them.&nbsp; They danced in a circle with the burden
+of every verse, shouting out the chorus with good articulation
+and joyous energy; and at the end of the second stanza, where the
+traveller has his nose pinched by his grandmother&rsquo;s ghost,
+every nose in the party was nipped by a pair of little
+fingers.&nbsp; Mr. Chainmail, who was not prepared for the
+process, came in for a very energetic tweak from a chubby girl
+that sprang suddenly on his knees for the purpose, and made the
+roof ring with her laughter.</p>
+<p>So passed the time till evening, when Mr. Chainmail moved to
+depart.&nbsp; But it turned out on inquiry that he was some miles
+from his inn, that the way was intricate, and that he must not
+make any difficulty about accepting the farmer&rsquo;s
+hospitality till morning.&nbsp; The evening set in with rain: the
+fire was found agreeable; they drew around it.&nbsp; The young
+lady made tea; and afterwards, from time to time, at Mr.
+Chainmail&rsquo;s special request, delighted his ear with
+passages of ancient music.&nbsp; Then came a supper of lake
+trout, fried on the spot, and thrown, smoking hot, from the pan
+to the plate.&nbsp; Then came a brewage, which the farmer called
+his nightcap, of which he insisted on Mr. Chainmail&rsquo;s
+taking his full share.&nbsp; After which the gentleman remembered
+nothing till he awoke, the next morning, to the pleasant
+consciousness that he was under the same roof with one of the
+most fascinating creatures under the canopy of heaven.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE NEWSPAPER.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>&Pi;&omicron;&#8055;&alpha;&sigmaf; &delta;&rsquo;
+
+&#7936;&pi;&omicron;&sigma;&pi;&alpha;&sigma;&theta;&epsilon;&#8150;&sigma;&alpha;
+&phi;&#8059;&tau;&lambda;&upsilon;&sigmaf;<br />
+&rsquo;&Omicron;&rho;&#8051;&omega;&nu;
+&kappa;&epsilon;&upsilon;&theta;&mu;&#8182;&nu;&alpha;&sigmaf;
+&#7956;&chi;&epsilon;&iota;
+&sigma;&kappa;&iota;&omicron;&#8051;&nu;&tau;&omega;&nu;;</p>
+<p>Sprung from what line, adorns the maid<br />
+These, valleys deep in mountain-shade?</p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Pind</span>.
+<i>Pyth.</i> IX</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Chainmail</span> forgot the Captain
+and the route of Giraldus de Barri.&nbsp; He became suddenly
+satisfied that the ruined castle in his present neighbourhood was
+the best possible specimen of its class, and that it was needless
+to carry his researches further.</p>
+<p>He visited the farm daily: found himself always welcome;
+flattered himself that the young lady saw him with pleasure, and
+dragged a heavier chain at every new parting from Miss Susan, as
+the children called his nymph of the mountains.&nbsp; What might
+be her second name, he had vainly endeavoured to discover.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail was in love: but the determination he had long
+before formed and fixed in his mind, to marry only a lady of
+gentle blood, without a blot in her escutcheon, repressed the
+declarations of passion which were often rising to his
+lips.&nbsp; In the meantime he left no means untried to pluck out
+the heart of her mystery.</p>
+<p>The young lady soon divined his passion, and penetrated his
+prejudices.&nbsp; She began to look on him with favourable eyes;
+but she feared her name and parentage would present an
+insuperable barrier to his feudal pride.</p>
+<p>Things were in this state when the Captain returned, and
+unpacked his maps and books in the parlour of the inn.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Really, Captain, I find so many
+objects of attraction in this neighbourhood, that I would gladly
+postpone our purpose.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Undoubtedly this
+neighbourhood has many attractions; but there is something very
+inviting in the scheme you laid down.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;No doubt there is something very
+tempting in the route of Giraldus de Barri.&nbsp; But there are
+better things in this vicinity even than that.&nbsp; To tell you
+the truth, Captain, I have fallen in love.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;What! while I have been
+away?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Even so.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;The plunge must have been
+very sudden, if you are already over head and ears.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;As deep as
+Llyn-y-dreiddiad-vrawd.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;And what may that be?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;A pool not far off: a
+resting-place of a mountain stream which is said to have no
+bottom.&nbsp; There is a tradition connected with it; and here is
+a ballad on it, at your service.</p>
+<blockquote><p style="text-align:
+center">LLYN-Y-DREIDDIAD-VRAWD.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE POOL OF THE DIVING FRIAR.</span></p>
+<p>Gwenwynwyn withdrew from the feasts of his hall:<br />
+He slept very little, he prayed not at all:<br />
+He pondered, and wandered, and studied alone;<br />
+And sought, night and day, the philosopher&rsquo;s stone.</p>
+<p>He found it at length, and he made its first proof<br />
+By turning to gold all the lead of his roof:<br />
+Then he bought some magnanimous heroes, all fire,<br />
+Who lived but to smite and be smitten for hire.</p>
+<p>With these on the plains like a torrent he broke;<br />
+He filled the whole country with flame and with smoke;<br />
+He killed all the swine, and he broached all the wine;<br />
+He drove off the sheep, and the beeves, and the kine;</p>
+<p>He took castles and towns; he cut short limbs and lives;<br />
+He made orphans and widows of children and wives:<br />
+This course many years he triumphantly ran,<br />
+And did mischief enough to be called a great man.</p>
+<p>When, at last, he had gained all for which he held striven,<br
+/>
+He bethought him of buying a passport to heaven;<br />
+Good and great as he was, yet he did not well know,<br />
+How soon, or which way, his great spirit might go.</p>
+<p>He sought the grey friars, who beside a wild stream,<br />
+Refected their frames on a primitive scheme;<br />
+The gravest and wisest Gwenwynwyn found out,<br />
+All lonely and ghostly, and angling for trout.</p>
+<p>Below the white dash of a mighty cascade,<br />
+Where a pool of the stream a deep resting-place made,<br />
+And rock-rooted oaks stretched their branches on high,<br />
+The friar stood musing, and throwing his fly.</p>
+<p>To him said Gwenwynwyn, &ldquo;Hold, father, here&rsquo;s
+store,<br />
+For the good of the church, and the good of the poor;&rdquo;<br
+/>
+Then he gave him the stone; but, ere more he could speak,<br />
+Wrath came on the friar, so holy and meek.</p>
+<p>He had stretched forth his hand to receive the red gold,<br />
+And he thought himself mocked by Gwenwynwyn the Bold;<br />
+And in scorn of the gift, and in rage at the giver,<br />
+He jerked it immediately into the river.</p>
+<p>Gwenwynwyn, aghast, not a syllable spake;<br />
+The philosopher&rsquo;s stone made a duck and a drake;<br />
+Two systems of circles a moment were seen,<br />
+And the stream smoothed them off, as they never had been.</p>
+<p>Gwenwynwyn regained, and uplifted his voice,<br />
+&ldquo;Oh friar, grey friar, full rash was thy choice;<br />
+The stone, the good stone, which away thou hast thrown,<br />
+Was the stone of all stones, the philosopher&rsquo;s
+stone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The friar looked pale, when his error he knew;<br />
+The friar looked red, and the friar looked blue;<br />
+And heels over head, from the point of a rock,<br />
+He plunged, without stopping to pull off his frock.</p>
+<p>He dived very deep, but he dived all in vain,<br />
+The prize he had slighted he found not again;<br />
+Many times did the friar his diving renew,<br />
+And deeper and deeper the river still grew.</p>
+<p>Gwenwynwyn gazed long, of his senses in doubt,<br />
+To see the grey friar a diver so stout;<br />
+Then sadly and slowly his castle he sought,<br />
+And left the friar diving, like dabchick distraught.</p>
+<p>Gwenwynwyn fell sick with alarm and despite,<br />
+Died, and went to the devil, the very same night;<br />
+The magnanimous heroes he held in his pay<br />
+Sacked his castle, and marched with the plunder away.</p>
+<p>No knell on the silence of midnight was rolled<br />
+For the flight of the soul of Gwenwynwyn the Bold.<br />
+The brethren, unfeed, let the mighty ghost pass,<br />
+Without praying a prayer, or intoning a mass.</p>
+<p>The friar haunted ever beside the dark stream;<br />
+The philosopher&rsquo;s stone was his thought and his dream:<br
+/>
+And day after day, ever head under heels<br />
+He dived all the time he could spare from his meals.</p>
+<p>He dived, and he dived, to the end of his days,<br />
+As the peasants oft witnessed with fear and amaze.<br />
+The mad friar&rsquo;s diving-place long was their theme,<br />
+And no plummet can fathom that pool of the stream.</p>
+<p>And still, when light clouds on the midnight winds ride,<br />
+If by moonlight you stray on the lone river-side,<br />
+The ghost of the friar may be seen diving there,<br />
+With head in the water, and heels in the air.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Well, your ballad is very
+pleasant: you shall show me the scene, and I will sketch it; but
+just now I am more interested about your love.&nbsp; What heroine
+of the twelfth century has risen from the ruins of the old
+castle, and looked down on you from the ivied battlements?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;You are nearer the mark than you
+suppose.&nbsp; Even from those battlements a heroine of the
+twelfth century has looked down on me.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Oh! some vision of an ideal
+beauty.&nbsp; I suppose the whole will end in another tradition
+and a ballad.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Genuine flesh and blood; as
+genuine as Lady Clarinda.&nbsp; I will tell you the story.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail narrated his adventures.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Then you seem to have found
+what you wished.&nbsp; Chance has thrown in your way what none of
+the gods would have ventured to promise you.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Yes, but I know nothing of her
+birth and parentage.&nbsp; She tells me nothing of herself, and I
+have no right to question her directly.</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;She appears to be expressly
+destined for the light of your baronial hall.&nbsp; Introduce me
+in this case, two heads are better than one.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;No, I thank you.&nbsp; Leave me to
+manage my chance of a prize, and keep you to your own chance of
+a&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.&mdash;Blank.&nbsp; As you
+please.&nbsp; Well, I will pitch my tent here, till I have filled
+my portfolio, and shall be glad of as much of your company as you
+can spare from more attractive society.</p>
+<p>Matters went on pretty smoothly for several days, when an
+unlucky newspaper threw all into confusion.&nbsp; Mr. Chainmail
+received newspapers by the post, which came in three times a
+week.&nbsp; One morning, over their half-finished breakfast, the
+Captain had read half a newspaper very complacently, when
+suddenly he started up in a frenzy, hurled over the breakfast
+table, and, bouncing from the apartment, knocked down Harry Ap
+Heather, who was coming in at the door to challenge his supposed
+rival to a boxing-match.</p>
+<p>Harry sprang up, in a double rage, and intercepted Mr.
+Chainmail&rsquo;s pursuit of the Captain, placing himself in the
+doorway, in a pugilistic attitude.&nbsp; Mr. Chainmail, not being
+disposed for this mode of combat, stepped back into the parlour,
+took the poker in his right hand, and displacing the loose bottom
+of a large elbow chair, threw it over his left arm as a
+shield.&nbsp; Harry, not liking the aspect of the enemy in this
+imposing attitude, retreated with backward steps into the
+kitchen, and tumbled over a cur, which immediately fastened on
+his rear.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail, half-laughing, half-vexed, anxious to overtake
+the Captain, and curious to know what was the matter with him,
+pocketed the newspaper, and sallied forth, leaving Harry roaring
+for a doctor and tailor, to repair the lacerations of his outward
+man.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail could find no trace of the Captain.&nbsp;
+Indeed, he sought him but in one direction, which was that
+leading to the farm; where he arrived in due time, and found Miss
+Susan alone.&nbsp; He laid the newspaper on the table, as was his
+custom, and proceeded to converse with the young lady: a
+conversation of many pauses, as much of signs as of words.&nbsp;
+The young lady took up the paper, and turned it over and over,
+while she listened to Mr. Chainmail, whom she found every day
+more and more agreeable, when suddenly her eye glanced on
+something which made her change colour, and dropping the paper on
+the ground, she rose from her seat, exclaiming: &ldquo;Miserable
+must she be who trusts any of your faithless sex! never, never,
+never, will I endure such misery twice.&rdquo;&nbsp; And she
+vanished up the stairs.&nbsp; Mr. Chainmail was petrified.&nbsp;
+At length, he cried aloud: &ldquo;Cornelius Agrippa must have
+laid a spell on this accursed newspaper;&rdquo; and was turning
+it over, to look for the source of the mischief, when Mrs. Ap
+Llymry made her appearance.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Ap Llymry</i>.&mdash;What have you done to poor dear
+Miss Susan? she is crying ready to break her heart.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;So help me the memory of Richard
+Coeur-de-Lion, I have not the most distant notion of what is the
+matter.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Ap Llymry</i>.&mdash;Oh, don&rsquo;t tell me, sir; you
+must have ill-used her.&nbsp; I know how it is.&nbsp; You have
+been keeping company with her, as if you wanted to marry her; and
+now, all at once, you have been insulting her.&nbsp; I have seen
+such tricks more than once, and you ought to be ashamed of
+yourself.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;My dear madam, you wrong me
+utterly.&nbsp; I have none but the kindest feelings and the most
+honourable purposes towards her.&nbsp; She has been disturbed by
+something she has seen in this rascally paper.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Ap Llymry</i>.&mdash;Why, then, the best thing you can
+do is to go away, and come again tomorrow.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Not I, indeed, madam.&nbsp; Out of
+this house I stir not, till I have seen the young lady, and
+obtained a full explanation.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Ap Llymry</i>.&mdash;I will tell Miss Susan what you
+say.&nbsp; Perhaps she will come down.</p>
+<p>Mr. Chainmail sat with as much patience as he could command,
+running over the paper, from column to column.&nbsp; At length he
+lighted on an announcement of the approaching marriage of Lady
+Clarinda Bossnowl with Mr. Crotchet the younger.&nbsp; This
+explained the Captain&rsquo;s discomposure, but the cause of Miss
+Susan&rsquo;s was still to be sought: he could not know that it
+was one and the same.</p>
+<p>Presently, the sound of the longed-for step was heard on the
+stairs; the young lady reappeared, and resumed her seat: her eyes
+showed that she had been weeping.&nbsp; The gentleman was now
+exceedingly puzzled how to begin, but the young lady relieved him
+by asking, with great simplicity: &ldquo;What do you wish to have
+explained, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;I wish, if I may be permitted, to
+explain myself to you.&nbsp; Yet could I first wish to know what
+it was that disturbed you in this unlucky paper.&nbsp; Happy
+should I be if I could remove the cause of your inquietude!</p>
+<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.&mdash;The cause is already
+removed.&nbsp; I saw something that excited painful
+recollections; nothing that I could now wish otherwise than as it
+is.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Yet, may I ask why it is that I
+find one so accomplished living in this obscurity, and passing
+only by the name of Miss Susan?</p>
+<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.&mdash;The world and my name are not
+friends.&nbsp; I have left the world, and wish to remain for ever
+a stranger to all whom I once knew in it.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;You can have done nothing to
+dishonour your name.</p>
+<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.&mdash;No, sir.&nbsp; My father has done
+that of which the world disapproves, in matters of which I
+pretend not to judge.&nbsp; I have suffered for it as I will
+never suffer again.&nbsp; My name is my own secret: I have no
+other, and that is one not worth knowing.&nbsp; You see what I
+am, and all I am.&nbsp; I live according to the condition of my
+present fortune, and here, so living, I have found
+tranquillity.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Yet, I entreat you, tell me your
+name.</p>
+<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.&mdash;Why, sir?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Why, but to throw my hand, my
+heart, my fortune, at your feet, if&mdash;.</p>
+<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.&mdash;If my name be worthy of them.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Nay, nay, not so; if your hand and
+heart are free.</p>
+<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.&mdash;My hand and heart are free; but
+they must be sought from myself, and not from my name.</p>
+<p>She fixed her eyes on him, with a mingled expression of
+mistrust, of kindness, and of fixed resolution, which the
+far-gone <i>inamorato</i> found irresistible.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Then from yourself alone I seek
+them.</p>
+<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.&mdash;Reflect. You have prejudices on
+the score of parentage.&nbsp; I have not conversed with you so
+often without knowing what they are.&nbsp; Choose between them
+and me.&nbsp; I too have my own prejudices on the score of
+personal pride.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;I would choose you from all the
+world, were you even the daughter of the <i>ex&eacute;cuteur des
+hautes &oelig;uvres</i>, as the heroine of a romantic story I
+once read turned out to be.</p>
+<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.&mdash;I am satisfied.&nbsp; You have now
+a right to know my history, and if you repent, I absolve you from
+all obligations.</p>
+<p>She told him her history; but he was out of the reach of
+repentance.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is true,&rdquo; as at a subsequent
+period he said to the captain, &ldquo;she is the daughter of a
+money-changer: one who, in the days of Richard the First, would
+have been plucked by the beard in the streets: but she is,
+according to modern notions, a lady of gentle blood.&nbsp; As to
+her father&rsquo;s running away, that is a minor consideration: I
+have always understood, from Mr. Mac Quedy, who is a great oracle
+in this way, that promises to pay ought not to be kept; the
+essence of a safe and economical currency being an interminable
+series of broken promises.&nbsp; There seems to be a difference
+among the learned as to the way in which the promises ought to be
+broken; but I am not deep enough in this casuistry to enter into
+such nice distinctions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In a few days there was a wedding, a pathetic leave-taking of
+the farmer&rsquo;s family, a hundred kisses from the bride to the
+children, and promises twenty times reclaimed and renewed, to
+visit them in the ensuing year.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE INVITATION.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>A cup of wine, that&rsquo;s brisk and fine,<br />
+And drink unto the lemon mine.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><i>Master Silence</i>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">This</span> veridicous history began in
+May, and the occurrences already narrated have carried it on to
+the middle of autumn.&nbsp; Stepping over the interval to
+Christmas, we find ourselves in our first locality, among the
+chalk hills of the Thames; and we discover our old friend, Mr.
+Crotchet, in the act of accepting an invitation, for himself, and
+any friends who might be with him, to pass their Christmas Day at
+Chainmail Hall, after the fashion of the twelfth century.&nbsp;
+Mr. Crochet had assembled about him, for his own Christmas
+festivities, nearly the same party which was introduced to the
+reader in the spring.&nbsp; Three of that party were
+wanting.&nbsp; Dr. Morbific, by inoculating himself once too
+often with non-contagious matter, had explained himself out of
+the world.&nbsp; Mr. Henbane had also departed, on the wings of
+an infallible antidote.&nbsp; Mr. Eavesdrop, having printed in a
+magazine some of the after-dinner conversations of the castle,
+had had sentence of exclusion passed upon him, on the motion of
+the Reverend Doctor Folliott, as a flagitious violator of the
+confidences of private life.</p>
+<p>Miss Crotchet had become Lady Bossnowl, but Lady Clarinda had
+not yet changed her name to Crotchet.&nbsp; She had, on one
+pretence and another, procrastinated the happy event, and the
+gentleman had not been very pressing; she had, however,
+accompanied her brother and sister-in-law, to pass Christmas at
+Crotchet Castle.&nbsp; With these, Mr. Mac Quedy, Mr. Philpot,
+Mr. Trillo, Mr. Skionar, Mr. Toogood, and Mr. Firedamp were
+sitting at breakfast, when the Reverend Doctor Folliott entered
+and took his seat at the table.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Well, Mr. Mac Quedy, it is
+now some weeks since we have met: how goes on the march of
+mind?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Nay, sir; I think you may see that
+with your own eyes.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Sir, I have seen it, much
+to my discomfiture.&nbsp; It has marched into my rickyard, and
+set my stacks on fire, with chemical materials, most
+scientifically compounded.&nbsp; It has marched up to the door of
+my vicarage, a hundred and fifty strong; ordered me to surrender
+half my tithes; consumed all the provisions I had provided for my
+audit feast, and drunk up my old October.&nbsp; It has marched in
+through my back-parlour shutters, and out again with my silver
+spoons, in the dead of the night.&nbsp; The policeman who has
+been down to examine says my house has been broken open on the
+most scientific principles.&nbsp; All this comes of
+education.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;I rather think it comes of
+poverty.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No, sir.&nbsp; Robbery,
+perhaps, comes of poverty, but scientific principles of robbery
+come of education.&nbsp; I suppose the learned friend has written
+a sixpenny treatise on mechanics, and the rascals who robbed me
+have been reading it.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Your house would have been very
+safe, Doctor, if they had had no better science than the learned
+friend&rsquo;s to work with.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, that may
+be.&nbsp; Excellent potted char.&nbsp; The Lord deliver me from
+the learned friend.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;Well, Doctor, for your comfort,
+here is a declaration of the learned friend&rsquo;s that he will
+never take office.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Then, sir, he will be in
+office next week.&nbsp; Peace be with him.&nbsp; Sugar and
+cream.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;But, Doctor, are you for Chainmail
+Hall on Christmas Day?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;That am I, for there will
+be an excellent dinner, though, peradventure, grotesquely
+served.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;I have not seen my neighbour since
+he left us on the canal.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;He has married a wife, and
+brought her home.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Indeed!&nbsp; If she suits him,
+she must be an oddity: it will be amusing to see them
+together.</p>
+<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.&mdash;Very amusing.&nbsp; He! He!&nbsp;
+Mr. Firedamp.&nbsp; Is there any water about Chainmail Hall?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;An old moat.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.&mdash;I shall die of malaria.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;Shall we have any music?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;An old harper.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.&mdash;Those fellows are always horridly out
+of tune.&nbsp; What will he play?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Old songs and marches.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;Among so many old things, I hope we
+shall find Old Philosophy.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;An old woman.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Philpot</i>.&mdash;Perhaps an old map of the river in
+the twelfth century.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No doubt.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;How many more old things?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Old hospitality; old wine;
+old ale; all the images of old England; an old butler.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.&mdash;Shall we all be welcome?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Heartily; you will be
+slapped on the shoulder, and called Old Boy.</p>
+<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.&mdash;I think we should all go in our
+old clothes.&nbsp; He! He!</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;You will sit on old
+chairs, round an old table, by the light of old lamps, suspended
+from pointed arches, which, Mr. Chainmail says, first came into
+use in the twelfth century, with old armour on the pillars and
+old banners in the roof.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;And what curious piece of
+antiquity is the lady of the mansion?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No antiquity there;
+none.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Who was she?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;That I know not.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Have you seen her?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I have.</p>
+<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.&mdash;Is she pretty?</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr.
+Folliott</i>.&mdash;More,&mdash;beautiful.&nbsp; A subject for
+the pen of Nonnus or the pencil of Zeuxis.&nbsp; Features of all
+loveliness, radiant with all virtue and intelligence.&nbsp; A
+face for Antigone.&nbsp; A form at once plump and symmetrical,
+that, if it be decorous to divine it by externals, would have
+been a model for the Venus of Cnidos.&nbsp; Never was anything so
+goodly to look on, the present company excepted; and poor dear
+Mrs. Folliott.&nbsp; She reads moral philosophy, Mr. Mac Quedy,
+which indeed she might as well let alone; she reads Italian
+poetry, Mr. Skionar; she sings Italian music, Mr. Trillo; but,
+with all this, she has the greatest of female virtues, for she
+superintends the household and looks after her husband&rsquo;s
+dinner.&nbsp; I believe she was a mountaineer:
+&Eta;&alpha;&rho;&theta;&#8051;&nu;&omicron;&sigmaf;
+&#8000;&upsilon;&rho;&epsilon;&sigma;&#8055;&phi;&omicron;&iota;&tau;&omicron;&sigmaf;,
+&#7952;&rho;&#8053;&mu;&alpha;&delta;&iota;
+&sigma;&#8059;&nu;&tau;&rho;&omicron;&phi;&omicron;&sigmaf;
+&#8021;&lambda;&#8131; <a name="citation175"></a><a
+href="#footnote175" class="citation">[175]</a> as Nonnus sweetly
+sings.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">CHAINMAIL HALL.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p>Vous autres dictes que ignorance est m&egrave;re
+de tous maulx, et dictes vray: mais toutesfoys vous ne la
+bannissez mye de vos entendemens, et vivez en elle, avecques
+elle, et par elle.&nbsp; C&rsquo;est pourquoy tant de maulx vous
+meshaignent de jour en jour.&mdash;<span
+class="smcap">Rabelias</span>, 1. 5. c. 7.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> party which was assembled on
+Christmas Day in Chainmail Hall comprised all the guests of
+Crotchet Castle, some of Mr. Chainmail&rsquo;s other neighbours,
+all his tenants and domestics, and Captain Fitzchrome.&nbsp; The
+hall was spacious and lofty; and with its tall fluted pillars and
+pointed arches, its windows of stained glass, its display of arms
+and banners intermingled with holly and mistletoe, its blazing
+cressets and torches, and a stupendous fire in the centre, on
+which blocks of pine were flaming and crackling, had a striking
+effect on eyes unaccustomed to such a dining-room.&nbsp; The fire
+was open on all sides, and the smoke was caught and carried back
+under a funnel-formed canopy into a hollow central pillar.&nbsp;
+This fire was the line of demarcation between gentle and simple
+on days of high festival.&nbsp; Tables extended from it on two
+sides to nearly the end of the hall.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Chainmail was introduced to the company.&nbsp; Young
+Crotchet felt some revulsion of feeling at the unexpected sight
+of one whom he had forsaken, but not forgotten, in a condition
+apparently so much happier than his own.&nbsp; The lady held out
+her hand to him with a cordial look of more than forgiveness; it
+seemed to say that she had much to thank him for.&nbsp; She was
+the picture of a happy bride, <i>rayonnante de joie et
+d&rsquo;amour</i>.</p>
+<p>Mr. Crotchet told the Reverend Doctor Folliott the news of the
+morning.&nbsp; &ldquo;As you predicted,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;your friend, the learned friend, is in office; he has also
+a title; he is now Sir Guy de Vaux.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Thank heaven for that! he
+is disarmed from further mischief.&nbsp; It is something, at any
+rate, to have that hollow and wind-shaken reed rooted up for ever
+from the field of public delusion.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;I suppose, Doctor, you do not like
+to see a great reformer in office; you are afraid for your vested
+interests.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Not I, indeed, sir; my
+vested interests are very safe from all such reformers as the
+learned friend.&nbsp; I vaticinate what will be the upshot of all
+his schemes of reform.&nbsp; He will make a speech of seven
+hours&rsquo; duration, and this will be its quintessence: that,
+seeing the exceeding difficulty of putting salt on the
+bird&rsquo;s tail, it will be expedient to consider the best
+method of throwing dust in the bird&rsquo;s eyes.&nbsp; All the
+rest will be</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&Tau;&iota;&tau;&iota;&tau;&iota;&tau;&iota;&tau;&iota;&mu;&pi;&rho;&omicron;.<br
+/>
+&Pi;&omicron;&pi;&omicron;&pi;&omicron;&#8055;,
+&pi;&omicron;&pi;&omicron;&pi;&omicron;&#8055;<br />
+
+&Tau;&iota;&omicron;&tau;&iota;&omicron;&tau;&iota;&omicron;&tau;&iota;&omicron;&tau;&iota;&omicron;&tau;&#8055;&gamma;&xi;.<br
+/>
+&Kappa;&iota;&kappa;&kappa;&alpha;&beta;&alpha;&#8166;,
+&kappa;&iota;&kappa;&kappa;&alpha;&beta;&alpha;&#8166;.<br />
+
+&Tau;&omicron;&rho;&omicron;&tau;&omicron;&rho;&omicron;&tau;&omicron;&rho;&omicron;&tau;&omicron;&rho;&omicron;&lambda;&iota;&lambda;&iota;&lambda;&#8055;&gamma;&xi;,</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>as Aristophanes has it; and so I leave him, in
+Nephelococcygia.</p>
+<p>Mr. Mac Quedy came up to the divine as Mr. Crotchet left him,
+and said: &ldquo;There is one piece of news which the old
+gentleman has not told you.&nbsp; The great firm of Catchflat and
+Company, in which young Crotchet is a partner, has stopped
+payment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Bless me! that accounts
+for the young gentleman&rsquo;s melancholy.&nbsp; I thought they
+would overreach themselves with their own tricks.&nbsp; The day
+of reckoning, Mr. Mac Quedy, is the point which your paper-money
+science always leaves out of view.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;I do not see, sir, that the
+failure of Catchflat and Company has anything to do with my
+science.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;It has this to do with it,
+sir, that you would turn the whole nation into a great
+paper-money shop, and take no thought of the day of
+reckoning.&nbsp; But the dinner is coming.&nbsp; I think you, who
+are so fond of paper promises, should dine on the bill of
+fare.</p>
+<p>The harper at the head of the hall struck up an ancient march,
+and the dishes were brought in, in grand procession.</p>
+<p>The boar&rsquo;s head, garnished with rosemary, with a citron
+in its mouth, led the van.&nbsp; Then came tureens of
+plum-porridge; then a series of turkeys, and in the midst of them
+an enormous sausage, which it required two men to carry.&nbsp;
+Then came geese and capons, tongues and hams, the ancient glory
+of the Christmas pie, a gigantic plum pudding, a pyramid of mince
+pies, and a baron of beef bringing up the rear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is something new under the sun,&rdquo; said the
+divine, as he sat down, &ldquo;to see a great dinner without
+fish.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Fish was for fasts in the twelfth
+century.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Well, sir, I prefer our
+reformed system of putting fasts and feasts together.&nbsp; Not
+but here is ample indemnity.</p>
+<p>Ale and wine flowed in abundance.&nbsp; The dinner passed off
+merrily: the old harper playing all the while the oldest music in
+his repertory.&nbsp; The tables being cleared, he indemnified
+himself for lost time at the lower end of the hall, in company
+with the old butler and the other domestics, whose attendance on
+the banquet had been indispensable.</p>
+<p>The scheme of Christmas gambols, which Mr. Chainmail had laid
+for the evening, was interrupted by a tremendous clamour
+without.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;What have we here?&nbsp;
+Mummers?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Nay, I know not.&nbsp; I expect
+none.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is there?&rdquo; he added, approaching the door of
+the hall.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is there?&rdquo; vociferated the divine, with the
+voice of Stentor.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Swing,&rdquo; replied a chorus of discordant
+voices.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Ho, ho! here is a piece of
+the dark ages we did not bargain for.&nbsp; Here is the
+Jacquerie.&nbsp; Here is the march of mind with a witness.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Do you not see that you have
+brought disparates together? the Jacquerie and the march of
+mind.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Not at all, sir.&nbsp;
+They are the same thing, under different names.&nbsp;
+&Pi;&omicron;&lambda;&lambda;&#8182;&nu;
+&omicron;&nu;&omicron;&mu;&#8049;&tau;&omega;&nu;
+&mu;&omicron;&rho;&phi;&#8052; &mu;&#8055;&alpha;.&nbsp; What was
+Jacquerie in the dark ages is the march of mind in this very
+enlightened one&mdash;very enlightened one.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;The cause is the same in both;
+poverty in despair.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Very likely; but the effect is
+extremely disagreeable.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;It is the natural result,
+Mr. Mac Quedy, of that system of state seamanship which your
+science upholds.&nbsp; Putting the crew on short allowance, and
+doubling the rations of the officers, is the sure way to make a
+mutiny on board a ship in distress, Mr. Mac Quedy.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Eh! sir, I uphold no such system
+as that.&nbsp; I shall set you right as to cause and
+effect.&nbsp; Discontent arises with the increase of
+information.&nbsp; That is all.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I said it was the march of
+mind.&nbsp; But we have not time for discussing cause and effect
+now.&nbsp; Let us get rid of the enemy.</p>
+<p>And he vociferated at the top of his voice, &ldquo;What do you
+want here?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Arms, arms,&rdquo; replied a
+hundred voices, &ldquo;Give us the arms.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;You see, Mr. Chainmail,
+this is the inconvenience of keeping an armoury not fortified
+with sand bags, green bags, and old bags of all kinds.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Just give them the old spits and
+toasting irons, and they will go away quietly.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;My spears and swords! not without
+my life.&nbsp; These assailants are all aliens to my land and
+house.&nbsp; My men will fight for me, one and all.&nbsp; This is
+the fortress of beef and ale.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Eh! sir, when the rabble is up, it
+is very indiscriminating.&nbsp; You are e&rsquo;en suffering for
+the sins of Sir Simon Steeltrap and the like, who have pushed the
+principle of accumulation a little too far.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;The way to keep the people down is
+kind and liberal usage.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;That is very well (where it can be
+afforded) in the way of prevention; but in the way of cure the
+operation must be more drastic.&nbsp; (Taking down a
+battle-axe.)&nbsp; I would fain have a good blunderbuss charged
+with slugs.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;When I suspended these arms for
+ornament, I never dreamed of their being called into use.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.&mdash;Let me address them.&nbsp; I never
+failed to convince an audience that the best thing they could do
+was to go away.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Eh! sir, I can bring them to that
+conclusion in less time than you.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.&mdash;I have no fancy for fighting.&nbsp;
+It is a very hard case upon a guest, when the latter end of a
+feast is the beginning of a fray.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.&mdash;Give them the old iron.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Give them the
+weapons!&nbsp; <i>Pessimo</i>, <i>medius fidius</i>,
+<i>exemplo</i>.&nbsp; Forbid it the spirit of <i>Fr&egrave;re
+Jean des Entommeures</i>!&nbsp; No! let us see what the church
+militant, in the armour of the twelfth century, will do against
+the march of mind.&nbsp; Follow me who will, and stay who
+list.&nbsp; Here goes: <i>Pro aris et focis</i>! that is, for
+tithe pigs and fires to roast them.</p>
+<p>He clapped a helmet on his head, seized a long lance, threw
+open the gates, and tilted out on the rabble, side by side with
+Mr. Chainmail, followed by the greater portion of the male
+inmates of the hall, who had armed themselves at random.</p>
+<p>The rabble-rout, being unprepared for such a sortie, fled in
+all directions, over hedge and ditch.</p>
+<p>Mr. Trillo stayed in the hall, playing a march on the harp, to
+inspirit the rest to sally out.&nbsp; The water-loving Mr.
+Philpot had diluted himself with so much wine as to be quite
+<i>hors de combat</i>.&nbsp; Mr. Toogood, intending to equip
+himself in purely defensive armour, contrived to slip a ponderous
+coat of mail over his shoulders, which pinioned his arms to his
+sides; and in this condition, like a chicken trussed for
+roasting, he was thrown down behind a pillar in the first rush of
+the sortie.&nbsp; Mr. Crotchet seized the occurrence as a pretext
+for staying with him, and passed the whole time of the action in
+picking him out of his shell.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Phew!&rdquo; said the divine, returning; &ldquo;an
+inglorious victory; but it deserves a devil and a bowl of
+punch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;A wassail-bowl.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No, sir.&nbsp; No more of
+the twelfth century for me.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Nay, Doctor.&nbsp; The twelfth
+century has backed you well.&nbsp; Its manners and habits, its
+community of kind feelings between master and man, are the true
+remedy for these ebullitions.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.&mdash;Something like it: improved by my
+diagram: arts for arms.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;No wassail-bowl for
+me.&nbsp; Give me an unsophisticated bowl of punch, which belongs
+to that blissful middle period, after the Jacquerie was down, and
+before the march of mind was up.&nbsp; But, see, who is
+floundering in the water?</p>
+<p>Proceeding to the edge of the moat, they fished up Mr.
+Firedamp, who had missed his way back, and tumbled in.&nbsp; He
+was drawn out, exclaiming, &ldquo;that he had taken his last dose
+of malaria in this world.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Tut, man; dry clothes, a
+turkey&rsquo;s leg and rump, well devilled, and a quart of strong
+punch, will set all to rights.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wood embers,&rdquo; said Mr. Firedamp, when he had been
+accommodated with a change of clothes, &ldquo;there is no
+antidote to malaria like the smoke of wood embers; pine
+embers.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he placed himself, with his mouth open,
+close by the fire.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;Punch, sir, punch: there
+is no antidote like punch.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;Well, Doctor, you shall be
+indulged.&nbsp; But I shall have my wassail-bowl,
+nevertheless.</p>
+<p>An immense bowl of spiced wine, with roasted apples hissing on
+its surface, was borne into the hall by four men, followed by an
+empty bowl of the same dimensions, with all the materials of
+arrack punch, for the divine&rsquo;s especial brewage.&nbsp; He
+accinged himself to the task with his usual heroism, and having
+finished it to his entire satisfaction, reminded his host to
+order in the devil.</p>
+<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.&mdash;I think, Mr. Chainmail, we
+can amuse ourselves very well here all night.&nbsp; The enemy may
+be still excubant: and we had better not disperse till
+daylight.&nbsp; I am perfectly satisfied with my quarters.&nbsp;
+Let the young folk go on with their gambols; let them dance to
+your old harper&rsquo;s minstrelsy; and if they please to kiss
+under the mistletoe, whereof I espy a goodly bunch suspended at
+the end of the hall, let those who like it not leave it to those
+who do.&nbsp; Moreover, if among the more sedate portion of the
+assembly, which, I foresee, will keep me company, there were any
+to revive the good old custom of singing after supper, so to fill
+up the intervals of the dances, the steps of night would move
+more lightly.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.&mdash;My Susan will set the example,
+after she has set that of joining in the rustic dance, according
+to good customs long departed.</p>
+<p>After the first dance, in which all classes of the company
+mingled, the young lady of the mansion took her harp, and
+following the reverend gentleman&rsquo;s suggestion, sang a song
+of the twelfth century.</p>
+<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">FLORENCE AND
+BLANCHFLOR.</p>
+<p>Florence and Blanchflor, loveliest maids,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Within a summer grove,<br />
+Amid the flower-enamelled shades<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Together talked of love.</p>
+<p>A clerk sweet Blanchflor&rsquo;s heart had gain&rsquo;d;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Fair Florence loved a knight:<br />
+And each with ardent voice maintained<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; She loved the worthiest wight.</p>
+<p>Sweet Blanchflor praised her scholar dear,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As courteous, kind, and true!<br />
+Fair Florence said her chevalier<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Could every foe subdue.</p>
+<p>And Florence scorned the bookworm vain,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who sword nor spear could raise;<br />
+And Blanchflor scorned the unlettered brain<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Could sing no lady&rsquo;s praise.</p>
+<p>From dearest love, the maidens bright<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To deadly hatred fell,<br />
+Each turned to shun the other&rsquo;s sight,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And neither said farewell.</p>
+<p>The king of birds, who held his court<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Within that flowery grove,<br />
+Sang loudly: &ldquo;&rsquo;Twill be rare disport<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To judge this suit of love.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Before him came the maidens bright,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; With all his birds around,<br />
+To judge the cause, if clerk or knight<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In love be worthiest found.</p>
+<p>The falcon and the sparrow-hawk<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Stood forward for the fight:<br />
+Ready to do, and not to talk,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; They voted for the knight.</p>
+<p>And Blanchflor&rsquo;s heart began to fail,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Till rose the strong-voiced lark,<br />
+And, after him, the nightingale,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And pleaded for the clerk.</p>
+<p>The nightingale prevailed at length,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Her pleading had such charms;<br />
+So eloquence can conquer strength,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And arts can conquer arms.</p>
+<p>The lovely Florence tore her hair,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And died upon the place;<br />
+And all the birds assembled there<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Bewailed the mournful case.</p>
+<p>They piled up leaves and flowerets rare<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Above the maiden bright,<br />
+And sang: &ldquo;Farewell to Florence fair,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who too well loved her knight.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Several others of the party sang in the intervals of the
+dances.&nbsp; Mr. Chainmail handed to Mr. Trillo another ballad
+of the twelfth century, of a merrier character than the
+former.&nbsp; Mr. Trillo readily accommodated it with an air, and
+sang:</p>
+<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">THE PRIEST AND THE
+MULBERRY TREE.</p>
+<p>Did you hear of the curate who mounted his mare,<br />
+And merrily trotted along to the fair?<br />
+Of creature more tractable none ever heard;<br />
+In the height of her speed she would stop at a word,<br />
+And again with a word, when the curate said Hey,<br />
+She put forth her mettle, and galloped away.</p>
+<p>As near to the gates of the city he rode,<br />
+While the sun of September all brilliantly glowed,<br />
+The good priest discovered, with eyes of desire,<br />
+A mulberry tree in a hedge of wild briar,<br />
+On boughs long and lofty, in many a green shoot,<br />
+Hung large, black, and glossy, the beautiful fruit.</p>
+<p>The curate was hungry, and thirsty to boot;<br />
+He shrunk from the thorns, though he longed for the fruit;<br />
+With a word he arrested his courser&rsquo;s keen speed,<br />
+And he stood up erect on the back of his steed;<br />
+On the saddle he stood, while the creature stood still,<br />
+And he gathered the fruit, till he took his good fill.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sure never,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;was a creature so
+rare,<br />
+So docile, so true, as my excellent mare.<br />
+Lo, here, how I stand&rdquo; (and he gazed all around),<br />
+&ldquo;As safe and as steady as if on the ground,<br />
+Yet how had it been, if some traveller this way,<br />
+Had, dreaming no mischief, but chanced to cry Hey?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He stood with his head in the mulberry tree,<br />
+And he spoke out aloud in his fond reverie.<br />
+At the sound of the word, the good mare made a push,<br />
+And down went the priest in the wild-briar bush.<br />
+He remembered too late, on his thorny green bed,<br />
+Much that well may be thought cannot wisely be said.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Lady Clarinda, being prevailed on to take the harp in her
+turn, sang the following stanzas.</p>
+<blockquote><p>In the days of old,<br />
+Lovers felt true passion,<br />
+Deeming years of sorrow<br />
+By a smile repaid.<br />
+Now the charms of gold,<br />
+Spells of pride and fashion,<br />
+Bid them say good morrow<br />
+To the best-loved maid.</p>
+<p>Through the forests wild,<br />
+O&rsquo;er the mountains lonely,<br />
+They were never weary<br />
+Honour to pursue.<br />
+If the damsel smiled<br />
+Once in seven years only,<br />
+All their wanderings dreary<br />
+Ample guerdon knew.</p>
+<p>Now one day&rsquo;s caprice<br />
+Weighs down years of smiling,<br />
+Youthful hearts are rovers,<br />
+Love is bought and sold:<br />
+Fortune&rsquo;s gifts may cease,<br />
+Love is less beguiling;<br />
+Wisest were the lovers<br />
+In the days of old.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>The glance which she threw at the captain, as she sang the
+last verse, awakened his dormant hopes.&nbsp; Looking round for
+his rival, he saw that he was not in the hall; and, approaching
+the lady of his heart, he received one of the sweetest smiles of
+their earlier days.</p>
+<p>After a time, the ladies, and all the females of the party,
+retired.&nbsp; The males remained on duty with punch and wassail,
+and dropped off one by one into sweet forgetfulness; so that when
+the rising sun of December looked through the painted windows on
+mouldering embers and flickering lamps, the vaulted roof was
+echoing to a mellifluous concert of noses, from the clarionet of
+the waiting-boy at one end of the hall, to the double bass of the
+Reverend Doctor, ringing over the empty punch-bowl, at the
+other.</p>
+<h2>CONCLUSION.</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">From</span> this eventful night, young
+Crotchet was seen no more on English mould.&nbsp; Whither he had
+vanished was a question that could no more be answered in his
+case than in that of King Arthur after the battle of
+Camlan.&nbsp; The great firm of Catchflat and Company figured in
+the Gazette, and paid sixpence in the pound; and it was clear
+that he had shrunk from exhibiting himself on the scene of his
+former greatness, shorn of the beams of his paper
+prosperity.&nbsp; Some supposed him to be sleeping among the
+undiscoverable secrets of some barbel-pool in the Thames; but
+those who knew him best were more inclined to the opinion that he
+had gone across the Atlantic, with his pockets full of surplus
+capital, to join his old acquaintance, Mr. Touchandgo, in the
+bank of Dotandcarryonetown.</p>
+<p>Lady Clarinda was more sorry for her father&rsquo;s
+disappointment than her own; but she had too much pride to allow
+herself to be put up a second time in the money-market; and when
+the Captain renewed his assiduities, her old partiality for him,
+combining with a sense of gratitude for a degree of constancy
+which she knew she scarcely deserved, induced her, with Lord
+Foolincourt&rsquo;s hard-wrung consent, to share with him a more
+humble, but less precarious fortune, than that to which she had
+been destined as the price of a rotten borough.</p>
+<h2>FOOTNOTES.</h2>
+<p><a name="footnote175"></a><a href="#citation175"
+class="footnote">[175]</a>&nbsp; A mountain-wandering maid,<br />
+Twin-nourished with the solitary wood.</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROTCHET CASTLE***</p>
+<pre>
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+Project Gutenberg Etext Crotchet Castle, by Thomas Love Peacock
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+Crotchet Castle
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+by Thomas Love Peacock
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+February, 2000 [Etext #2075]
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+Project Gutenberg Etext Crotchet Castle, by Thomas Love Peacock
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+This etext was prepared by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition.
+
+
+
+
+
+CROTCHET CASTLE
+
+by Thomas Love Peacock
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+
+
+Thomas Love Peacock was born at Weymouth in 1785.  His first poem,
+"The Genius of the Thames," was in its second edition when he
+became one of the friends of Shelley.  That was in 1812, when
+Shelley's age was twenty, Peacock's twenty-seven.  The acquaintance
+strengthened, until Peacock became the friend in whose judgment
+Shelley put especial trust.  There were many points of agreement.
+Peacock, at that time, shared, in a more practical way, Shelley's
+desire for root and branch reform; both wore poets, although not
+equally gifted, and both loved Plato and the Greek tragedians.  In
+"Crotchet Castle" Peacock has expressed his own delight in Greek
+literature through the talk of the Reverend Dr. Folliott.
+
+But Shelley's friendship for Peacock included a trust in him that
+was maintained by points of unlikeness.  Peacock was shrewd and
+witty.  He delighted in extravagance of a satire which usually said
+more than it meant, but always rested upon a foundation of good
+sense.  Then also there was a touch of the poet to give grace to
+the utterances of a clear-headed man of the world.  It was Peacock
+who gave its name to Shelley's poem of "Alastor, or the Spirit of
+Solitude," published in 1816.  The "Spirit of Solitude" being
+treated as a spirit of evil, Peacock suggested calling it
+"Alastor," since the Greek [Greek text] means an evil genius.
+
+Peacock's novels are unlike those of other men:  they are the
+genuine expressions of an original and independent mind.  His
+reading and his thinking ran together; there is free quotation,
+free play of wit and satire, grace of invention too, but always
+unconventional.  The story is always pleasant, although always
+secondary to the play of thought for which it gives occasion.  He
+quarrelled with verse, whimsically but in all seriousness, in an
+article on "The Four Ages of Poetry," contributed in 1820 to a
+short-lived journal, "Ollier's Literary Miscellany."  The four ages
+were, he said, the iron age, the Bardic; the golden, the Homeric;
+the silver, the Virgilian; and the brass, in which he himself
+lived.  "A poet in our time," he said, "is a semi-barbarian in a
+civilised community . . . The highest inspirations of poetry are
+resolvable into three ingredients:  the rant of unregulated
+passion, the whining of exaggerated feeling, and the cant of
+factitious sentiment; and can, therefore, serve only to ripen a
+splendid lunatic like Alexander, a puling driveller like Werter, or
+a morbid dreamer like Wordsworth."  In another part of this essay
+he says:  "While the historian and the philosopher are advancing in
+and accelerating the progress of knowledge, the poet is wallowing
+in the rubbish of departed ignorance, and raking up the ashes of
+dead savages to find gewgaws and rattles for the grown babies of
+the age.  Mr. Scott digs up the poacher and cattle-stealers of the
+ancient Border.  Lord Byron cruises for thieves and pirates on the
+shores of the Morea and among the Greek islands.  Mr. Southey wades
+through ponderous volumes of travels and old chronicles, from which
+he carefully selects all that is false, useless, and absurd, as
+being essentially poetical; and when he has a commonplace book full
+of monstrosities, strings them into an epic."  And so forth;
+Peacock going on to characterise, in further illustration of his
+argument, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Moore, and Campbell.  He did not
+refer to Shelley; and Shelley read his friend's whimsical attack on
+poetry with all good humour, proceeding to reply to it with a
+"Defence of Poetry," which would have appeared in the same journal,
+if the journal had survived.  In this novel of "Crotchet Castle"
+there is the same good-humoured exaggeration in the treatment of
+"our learned friend"--Lord Brougham--to whom and to whose labours
+for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge there are repeated allusions.
+In one case Peacock associates the labours of "our learned friend"
+for the general instruction of the masses with encouragement of
+robbery (page 172), and in another with body-snatching, or, worse,-
+-murder for dissection (page 99).  "The Lord deliver me from the
+learned friend!" says Dr. Folliott.  Brougham's elevation to a
+peerage in November, 1830, as Lord Brougham and Vaux, is referred
+to on page 177, where he is called Sir Guy do Vaux.  It is not to
+be forgotten, in the reading, that this story was written in 1831,
+the year before the passing of the Reform Bill.  It ends with a
+scene suggested by the agricultural riots of that time.  In the
+ninth chapter, again, there is a passage dealing with Sir Walter
+Scott after the fashion of the criticisms in the "Four Ages of
+Poetry."  But this critical satire gave nobody pain.  Always there
+was a ground-work of good sense, and the broad sweep of the satire
+was utterly unlike the nibbling censure of the men whose wit is
+tainted with ill-humour.  We may see also that the poet's nature
+cannot be expelled.  In this volume we should find the touch of a
+poet's hand in the tale itself when dealing with the adventures of
+Mr. Chainmail, while he stays at the Welsh mountain inn, if the
+story did not again and again break out into actual song, for it
+includes half-a-dozen little poems.
+
+When Peacock wrote his attack on Poetry, he had, only two years
+before, produced a poem of his own--"Rhododaphne"--with a Greek
+fancy of the true and the false love daintily worked out.  It was
+his chief work in verse, and gave much pleasure to a few, among
+them his friend Shelley.  But he felt that, as the world went, he
+was not strong enough to help it by his singing, so he confined his
+writing to the novels, in which he could speak his mind in his own
+way, while doing his duty by his country in the East India House,
+where he obtained a post in 1818.  From 1836 to 1856, when he
+retired on a pension, he was Examiner of India Correspondence.
+Peacock died in 1866, aged eighty-one.
+
+H. M.
+
+NOTE that in this tale Mac Quedy is Mac Q. E. D., son of a
+demonstration; Mr. Skionar, the transcendentalist, is named from
+Ski(as) onar, the dream of a shadow; and Mr. Philpot,--who loves
+rivers, is Phil(o)pot(amos).
+
+
+
+
+CROTCHET CASTLE
+
+by Thomas Love Peacock
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I:  THE VILLA
+
+
+
+Captain Jamy.  I wad full fain hear some question 'tween you tway.
+HENRY V.
+
+
+In one of those beautiful valleys, through which the Thames (not
+yet polluted by the tide, the scouring of cities, or even the minor
+defilement of the sandy streams of Surrey) rolls a clear flood
+through flowery meadows, under the shade of old beech woods, and
+the smooth mossy greensward of the chalk hills (which pour into it
+their tributary rivulets, as pure and pellucid as the fountain of
+Bandusium, or the wells of Scamander, by which the wives and
+daughters of the Trojans washed their splendid garments in the days
+of peace, before the coming of the Greeks); in one of those
+beautiful valleys, on a bold round-surfaced lawn, spotted with
+juniper, that opened itself in the bosom of an old wood, which rose
+with a steep, but not precipitous ascent, from the river to the
+summit of the hill, stood the castellated villa of a retired
+citizen.  Ebenezer Mac Crotchet, Esquire, was the London-born
+offspring of a worthy native of the "north countrie," who had
+walked up to London on a commercial adventure, with all his surplus
+capital, not very neatly tied up in a not very clean handkerchief,
+suspended over his shoulder from the end of a hooked stick,
+extracted from the first hedge on his pilgrimage; and who, after
+having worked himself a step or two up the ladder of life, had won
+the virgin heart of the only daughter of a highly respectable
+merchant of Duke's Place, with whom he inherited the honest fruits
+of a long series of ingenuous dealings.
+
+Mr. Mac Crotchet had derived from his mother the instinct, and from
+his father the rational principle, of enriching himself at the
+expense of the rest of mankind, by all the recognised modes of
+accumulation on the windy side of the law.  After passing many
+years in the Alley, watching the turn of the market, and playing
+many games almost as desperate as that of the soldier of Lucullus,
+the fear of losing what he had so righteously gained predominated
+over the sacred thirst of paper-money; his caution got the better
+of his instinct, or rather transferred it from the department of
+acquisition to that of conservation.  His friend, Mr. Ramsbottom,
+the zodiacal mythologist, told him that he had done well to
+withdraw from the region of Uranus or Brahma, the Maker, to that of
+Saturn or Veeshnu, the Preserver, before he fell under the eye of
+Jupiter or Seva, the Destroyer, who might have struck him down at a
+blow.
+
+It is said that a Scotchman, returning home after some years'
+residence in England, being asked what he thought of the English,
+answered:  "They hanna ower muckle sense, but they are an unco braw
+people to live amang;" which would be a very good story, if it were
+not rendered apocryphal by the incredible circumstance of the
+Scotchman going back.
+
+Mr. Mac Crotchet's experience had given him a just title to make,
+in his own person, the last-quoted observation, but he would have
+known better than to go back, even if himself, and not his father,
+had been the first comer of his line from the north.  He had
+married an English Christian, and, having none of the Scotch
+accent, was ungracious enough to be ashamed of his blood.  He was
+desirous to obliterate alike the Hebrew and Caledonian vestiges in
+his name, and signed himself E. M. Crotchet, which by degrees
+induced the majority of his neighbours to think that his name was
+Edward Matthew.  The more effectually to sink the Mac, he
+christened his villa "Crotchet Castle," and determined to hand down
+to posterity the honours of Crotchet of Crotchet.  He found it
+essential to his dignity to furnish himself with a coat of arms,
+which, after the proper ceremonies (payment being the principal),
+he obtained, videlicet:  Crest, a crotchet rampant, in A sharp;
+Arms, three empty bladders, turgescent, to show how opinions are
+formed; three bags of gold, pendent, to show why they are
+maintained; three naked swords, tranchant, to show how they are
+administered; and three barbers' blocks, gaspant, to show how they
+are swallowed.
+
+Mr. Crotchet was left a widower, with two children; and, after the
+death of his wife, so strong was his sense of the blessed comfort
+she had been to him, that he determined never to give any other
+woman an opportunity of obliterating the happy recollection.
+
+He was not without a plausible pretence for styling his villa a
+castle, for, in its immediate vicinity, and within his own enclosed
+domain, were the manifest traces, on the brow of the hill, of a
+Roman station, or castellum, which was still called the "Castle" by
+the country people.  The primitive mounds and trenches, merely
+overgrown with greensward, with a few patches of juniper and box on
+the vallum, and a solitary ancient beech surmounting the place of
+the praetorium, presented nearly the same depths, heights, slopes,
+and forms, which the Roman soldiers had originally given them.
+From this cartel Mr. Crotchet christened his villa.  With his
+rustic neighbours he was, of course, immediately and necessarily a
+squire:  Squire Crotchet of the Castle; and he seemed to himself to
+settle down as naturally into an English country gentleman, as if
+his parentage had been as innocent of both Scotland and Jerusalem,
+as his education was of Rome and Athens.
+
+But as, though you expel nature with a pitch-fork, she will yet
+always come back; he could not become, like a true-born English
+squire, part and parcel of the barley-giving earth; he could not
+find in game-bagging, poacher-shooting, trespasser-pounding,
+footpath-stopping, common-enclosing, rack-renting, and all the
+other liberal pursuits and pastimes which make a country gentleman
+an ornament to the world and a blessing to the poor:  he could not
+find in these valuable and amiable occupations, and in a
+corresponding range of ideas, nearly commensurate with that of the
+great King Nebuchadnezzar when he was turned out to grass; he could
+not find in this great variety of useful action, and vast field of
+comprehensive thought, modes of filling up his time that accorded
+with his Caledonian instinct.  The inborn love of disputation,
+which the excitements and engagements of a life of business had
+smothered, burst forth through the calmer surface of a rural life.
+He grew as fain as Captain Jamy, "to hear some argument betwixt ony
+tway," and being very hospitable in his establishment, and liberal
+in his invitations, a numerous detachment from the advanced guard
+of the "march of intellect," often marched down to Crotchet Castle.
+
+When the fashionable season filled London with exhibitors of all
+descriptions, lecturers and else, Mr. Crotchet was in his glory;
+for, in addition to the perennial literati of the metropolis, he
+had the advantage of the visits of a number of hardy annuals,
+chiefly from the north, who, as the interval of their metropolitan
+flowering allowed, occasionally accompanied their London brethren
+in excursions to Crotchet Castle.
+
+Amongst other things, he took very naturally to political economy,
+read all the books on the subject which were put forth by his own
+countrymen, attended all lectures thereon, and boxed the technology
+of the sublime science as expertly as an able seaman boxes the
+compass.
+
+With this agreeable mania he had the satisfaction of biting his
+son, the hope of his name and race, who had borne off from Oxford
+the highest academical honours; and who, treading in his father's
+footsteps to honour and fortune, had, by means of a portion of the
+old gentleman's surplus capital, made himself a junior partner in
+the eminent loan-jobbing firm of Catchflat and Company.  Here, in
+the days of paper prosperity, he applied his science-illumined
+genius to the blowing of bubbles, the bursting of which sent many a
+poor devil to the gaol, the workhouse, or the bottom of the river,
+but left young Crotchet rolling in riches.
+
+These riches he had been on the point of doubling, by a marriage
+with the daughter of Mr. Touchandgo, the great banker, when, one
+foggy morning, Mr. Touchandgo and the contents of his till were
+suddenly reported absent; and as the fortune which the young
+gentleman had intended to marry was not forthcoming, this tender
+affair of the heart was nipped in the bud.
+
+Miss Touchandgo did not meet the shock of separation quite so
+complacently as the young gentleman:  for he lost only the lady,
+whereas she lost a fortune as well as a lover.  Some jewels, which
+had glittered on her beautiful person as brilliantly as the bubble
+of her father's wealth had done in the eyes of his gudgeons,
+furnished her with a small portion of paper-currency; and this,
+added to the contents of a fairy purse of gold, which she found in
+her shoe on the eventful morning when Mr. Touchandgo melted into
+thin air, enabled her to retreat into North Wales, where she took
+up her lodging in a farm-house in Merionethshire, and boarded very
+comfortably for a trifling payment, and the additional
+consideration of teaching English, French, and music, to the little
+Ap-Llymrys.  In the course of this occupation she acquired
+sufficient knowledge of Welsh to converse with the country people.
+
+She climbed the mountains, and descended the dingles, with a foot
+which daily habit made by degrees almost as steady as a native's.
+She became the nymph of the scene; and if she sometimes pined in
+thought for her faithless Strephon, her melancholy was anything but
+green and yellow:  it was as genuine white and red as occupation,
+mountain air, thyme-fed mutton, thick cream, and fat bacon could
+make it:  to say nothing of an occasional glass of double X, which
+Ap-Llymry, who yielded to no man west of the Wrekin in brewage,
+never failed to press upon her at dinner and supper.  He was also
+earnest, and sometimes successful, in the recommendation of his
+mead, and most pertinacious on winter nights in enforcing a trial
+of the virtues of his elder wine.  The young lady's personal
+appearance, consequently, formed a very advantageous contrast to
+that of her quondam lover, whose physiognomy the intense anxieties
+of his bubble-blowing days, notwithstanding their triumphant
+result, had left blighted, sallowed, and crow's-footed, to a degree
+not far below that of the fallen spirit who, in the expressive
+language of German romance, is described as "scathed by the
+ineradicable traces of the thunderbolts of Heaven;" so that,
+contemplating their relative geological positions, the poor
+deserted damsel was flourishing on slate, while her rich and false
+young knight was pining on chalk.
+
+Squire Crotchet had also one daughter, whom he had christened
+Lemma, and who, as likely to be endowed with a very ample fortune
+was, of course, an object very tempting to many young soldiers of
+fortune, who were marching with the march of mind, in a good
+condition for taking castles, as far as not having a groat is a
+qualification for such exploits.  She was also a glittering bait to
+divers young squires expectant (whose fathers were too well
+acquainted with the occult signification of mortgage), and even to
+one or two sprigs of nobility, who thought that the lining of a
+civic purse would superinduce a very passable factitious nap upon a
+thread-bare title.  The young lady had received an expensive and
+complicated education, complete in all the elements of superficial
+display.  She was thus eminently qualified to be the companion of
+any masculine luminary who had kept due pace with the "astounding
+progress" of intelligence.  It must be confessed, that a man who
+has not kept due pace with it, is not very easily found:  this
+march being one of that "astounding" character in which it seems
+impossible that the rear can be behind the van.  The young lady was
+also tolerably good looking:  north of Tweed, or in Palestine, she
+would probable have been a beauty; but for the valleys of the
+Thames she was perhaps a little too much to the taste of Solomon,
+and had a nose which rather too prominently suggested the idea of
+the tower of Lebanon, which looked towards Damascus.
+
+In a village in the vicinity of the Castle was the vicarage of the
+Reverend Doctor Folliott, a gentleman endowed with a tolerable
+stock of learning, an interminable swallow, and an indefatigable
+pair of lungs.  His pre-eminence in the latter faculty gave
+occasion to some etymologists to ring changes on his name, and to
+decide that it was derived from Follis Optimus, softened through an
+Italian medium into Folle Ottimo, contracted poetically into
+Folleotto, and elided Anglice into Folliott, signifying a first-
+rate pair of bellows.  He claimed to be descended lineally from the
+illustrious Gilbert Folliott, the eminent theologian, who was a
+Bishop of London in the twelfth century, whose studies were
+interrupted in the dead of night by the Devil, when a couple of
+epigrams passed between them, and the Devil, of course, proved the
+smaller wit of the two.
+
+This reverend gentleman, being both learned and jolly, became by
+degrees an indispensable ornament to the new squire's table.  Mr.
+Crotchet himself was eminently jolly, though by no means eminently
+learned.  In the latter respect he took after the great majority of
+the sons of his father's land; had a smattering of many things, and
+a knowledge of none; but possessed the true northern art of making
+the most of his intellectual harlequin's jacket, by keeping the
+best patches always bright and prominent.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II:  THE MARCH OF MIND
+
+
+
+Quoth Ralpho:  nothing but the abuse
+Of human learning you produce.--BUTLER
+
+"God bless my soul, sir!" exclaimed the Reverend Doctor Folliott,
+bursting, one fine May morning, into the breakfast-room at Crotchet
+Castle, "I am out of all patience with this march of mind.  Here
+has my house been nearly burned down by my cook taking it into her
+head to study hydrostatics in a sixpenny tract, published by the
+Steam Intellect Society, and written by a learned friend who is for
+doing all the world's business as well as his own, and is equally
+well qualified to handle every branch of human knowledge.  I have a
+great abomination of this learned friend; as author, lawyer, and
+politician, he is triformis, like Hecate; and in every one of his
+three forms he is bifrons, like Janus; the true Mr. Facing-both-
+ways of Vanity Fair.  My cook must read his rubbish in bed; and, as
+might naturally be expected, she dropped suddenly fast asleep,
+overturned the candle, and set the curtains in a blaze.  Luckily,
+the footman went into the room at the moment, in time to tear down
+the curtains and throw them into the chimney, and a pitcher of
+water on her nightcap extinguished her wick; she is a greasy
+subject, and would have burned like a short mould."
+
+The reverend gentleman exhaled his grievance without looking to the
+right or to the left; at length, turning on his pivot, he perceived
+that the room was full of company, consisting of young Crotchet,
+and some visitors whom he had brought from London.  The Reverend
+Doctor Folliott was introduced to Mr. Mac Quedy, the economist; Mr.
+Skionar, the transcendental poet; Mr. Firedamp, the meteorologist;
+and Lord Bossnowl, son of the Earl of Foolincourt, and member for
+the borough of Rogueingrain.
+
+The divine took his seat at the breakfast-table, and began to
+compose his spirits by the gentle sedative of a large cup of tea,
+the demulcent of a well-buttered muffin, and the tonic of a small
+lobster.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  You are a man of taste, Mr. Crotchet.  A man of
+taste is seen at once in the array of his breakfast-table.  It is
+the foot of Hercules, the far-shining face of the great work,
+according to Pindar's doctrine:  [Greek text].  The breakfast is
+the [Greek text] of the great work of the day.  Chocolate, coffee,
+tea, cream, eggs, ham, tongue, cold fowl, all these are good, and
+bespeak good knowledge in him who sets them forth:  but the
+touchstone is fish:  anchovy is the first step, prawns and shrimps
+the second; and I laud him who reaches even to these:  potted char
+and lampreys are the third, and a fine stretch of progression; but
+lobster is, indeed, matter for a May morning, and demands a rare
+combination of knowledge and virtue in him who sets it forth.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, sir, and what say you to a fine fresh trout,
+hot and dry, in a napkin? or a herring out of the water into the
+frying-pan, on the shore of Loch Fyne?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, I say every nation has some eximious
+virtue; and your country is pre-eminent in the glory of fish for
+breakfast.  We have much to learn from you in that line at any
+rate.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  And in many others, sir, I believe.  Morals and
+metaphysics, politics and political economy, the way to make the
+most of all the modifications of smoke; steam, gas, and paper
+currency; you have all these to learn from us; in short, all the
+arts and sciences.  We are the modern Athenians.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I, for one, sir, am content to learn nothing
+from you but the art and science of fish for breakfast.  Be
+content, sir, to rival the Boeotians, whose redeeming virtue was in
+fish, touching which point you may consult Aristophanes and his
+scholiast in the passage of Lysistrata, [Greek text], and leave the
+name of Athenians to those who have a sense of the beautiful, and a
+perception of metrical quantity.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Then, sir, I presume you set no value on the right
+principles of rent, profit, wages, and currency?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  My principles, sir, in these things are, to
+take as much as I can get, and pay no more than I can help.  These
+are every man's principles, whether they be the right principles or
+no.  There, sir, is political economy in a nutshell.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  The principles, sir, which regulate production and
+consumption are independent of the will of any individual as to
+giving or taking, and do not lie in a nutshell by any means.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, I will thank you for a leg of that capon.
+
+LORD BOSSNOWL.  But, sir, by-the-bye, how came your footman to be
+going into your cook's room?  It was very providential to be sure,
+but -
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, as good came of it, I shut my eyes, and
+ask no questions.  I suppose he was going to study hydrostatics,
+and he found himself under the necessity of practising hydraulics.
+
+MR. FIREDAMP.  Sir, you seem to make very light of science.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Yes, sir, such science as the learned friend
+deals in:  everything for everybody, science for all, schools for
+all, rhetoric for all, law for all, physic for all, words for all,
+and sense for none.  I say, sir, law for lawyers, and cookery for
+cooks:  and I wish the learned friend, for all his life, a cook
+that will pass her time in studying his works; then every dinner he
+sits down to at home, he will sit on the stool of repentance.
+
+LORD BOSSNOWL.  Now really that would be too severe:  my cook
+should read nothing but Ude.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No, sir! let Ude and the learned friend singe
+fowls together; let both avaunt from my kitchen.  [Greek text].
+Ude says an elegant supper may be given with sandwiches.  Horresco
+referens.  An elegant supper.  Di meliora piis.  No Ude for me.
+Conviviality went out with punch and suppers.  I cherish their
+memory.  I sup when I can, but not upon sandwiches.  To offer me a
+sandwich, when I am looking for a supper, is to add insult to
+injury.  Let the learned friend, and the modern Athenians, sup upon
+sandwiches.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Nay, sir; the modern Athenians know better than
+that.  A literary supper in sweet Edinbro' would cure you of the
+prejudice you seem to cherish against us.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Well, sir, well; there is cogency in a good
+supper; a good supper in these degenerate days bespeaks a good man;
+but much more is wanted to make up an Athenian.  Athenians, indeed!
+where is your theatre? who among you has written a comedy? where is
+your Attic salt? which of you can tell who was Jupiter's great-
+grandfather? or what metres will successively remain, if you take
+off the three first syllables, one by one, from a pure antispastic
+acatalectic tetrameter?  Now, sir, there are three questions for
+you:  theatrical, mythological, and metrical; to every one of which
+an Athenian would give an answer that would lay me prostrate in my
+own nothingness.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, sir, as to your metre and your mythology,
+they may e'en wait a wee.  For your comedy there is the "Gentle
+Shepherd" of the divine Allan Ramsay.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  The "Gentle Shepherd"!  It is just as much a
+comedy as the Book of Job.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, sir, if none of us have written a comedy, I
+cannot see that it is any such great matter, any more than I can
+conjecture what business a man can have at this time of day with
+Jupiter's great-grandfather.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  The great business is, sir, that you call
+yourselves Athenians, while you know nothing that the Athenians
+thought worth knowing, and dare not show your noses before the
+civilised world in the practice of any one art in which they were
+excellent.  Modern Athens, sir! the assumption is a personal
+affront to every man who has a Sophocles in his library.  I will
+thank you for an anchovy.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Metaphysics, sir; metaphysics.  Logic and moral
+philosophy.  There we are at home.  The Athenians only sought the
+way, and we have found it; and to all this we have added political
+economy, the science of sciences.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  A hyperbarbarous technology, that no Athenian
+ear could have borne.  Premises assumed without evidence, or in
+spite of it; and conclusions drawn from them so logically, that
+they must necessarily be erroneous.
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  I cannot agree with you, Mr. Mac Quedy, that you have
+found the true road of metaphysics, which the Athenians only
+sought.  The Germans have found it, sir:  the sublime Kant and his
+disciples.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  I have read the sublime Kant, sir, with an anxious
+desire to understand him, and I confess I have not succeeded.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  He wants the two great requisites of head and
+tail.
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  Transcendentalism is the philosophy of intuition, the
+development of universal convictions; truths which are inherent in
+the organisation of mind, which cannot be obliterated, though they
+may be obscured, by superstitious prejudice on the one hand, and by
+the Aristotelian logic on the other.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, sir, I have no notion of logic obscuring a
+question.
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  There is only one true logic, which is the
+transcendental; and this can prove only the one true philosophy,
+which is also the transcendental.  The logic of your Modern Athens
+can prove everything equally; and that is, in my opinion,
+tantamount to proving nothing at all.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  The sentimental against the rational, the intuitive
+against the inductive, the ornamental against the useful, the
+intense against the tranquil, the romantic against the classical;
+these are great and interesting controversies, which I should like,
+before I die, to see satisfactorily settled.
+
+MR. FIREDAMP.  There is another great question, greater than all
+these, seeing that it is necessary to be alive in order to settle
+any question; and this is the question of water against human life.
+Wherever there is water, there is malaria, and wherever there is
+malaria, there are the elements of death.  The great object of a
+wise man should be to live on a gravelly hill, without so much as a
+duck-pond within ten miles of him, eschewing cisterns and
+waterbutts, and taking care that there be no gravel-pits for
+lodging the rain.  The sun sucks up infection from water, wherever
+it exists on the face of the earth.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Well, sir, you have for you the authority of
+the ancient mystagogue, who said:  [Greek text].  For my part I
+care not a rush (or any other aquatic and inesculent vegetable) who
+or what sucks up either the water or the infection.  I think the
+proximity of wine a matter of much more importance than the
+longinquity of water.  You are here within a quarter of a mile of
+the Thames, but in the cellar of my friend, Mr. Crotchet, there is
+the talismanic antidote of a thousand dozen of old wine; a
+beautiful spectacle, I assure you, and a model of arrangement.
+
+MR. FIREDAMP.  Sir, I feel the malignant influence of the river in
+every part of my system.  Nothing but my great friendship for Mr.
+Crotchet would have brought me so nearly within the jaws of the
+lion.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  After dinner, sir, after dinner, I will meet
+you on this question.  I shall then be armed for the strife.  You
+may fight like Hercules against Achelous, but I shall flourish the
+Bacchic thyrsus, which changed rivers into wine:  as Nonnus sweetly
+sings, [Greek text].
+
+MR. CROTCHET, JUN.  I hope, Mr. Firedamp, you will let your
+friendship carry you a little closer into the jaws of the lion.  I
+am fitting up a flotilla of pleasure-boats, with spacious cabins,
+and a good cellar, to carry a choice philosophical party up the
+Thames and Severn, into the Ellesmere canal, where we shall be
+among the mountains of North Wales; which we may climb or not, as
+we think proper; but we will, at any rate, keep our floating hotel
+well provisioned, and we will try to settle all the questions over
+which a shadow of doubt yet hangs in the world of philosophy.
+
+MR. FIREDAMP.  Out of my great friendship for you, I will certainly
+go; but I do not expect to survive the experiment.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Alter erit tum Tiphys, et altera quae vehat
+Argo Delectos Heroas.  I will be of the party, though I must hire
+an officiating curate, and deprive poor dear Mrs. Folliott, for
+several weeks, of the pleasure of combing my wig.
+
+LORD BOSSNOWL.  I hope, if I am to be of the party, our ship is not
+to be the ship of fools:  He! he!
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  If you are one of the party, sir, it most
+assuredly will not:  Ha! ha!
+
+LORD BOSSNOWL.  Pray sir, what do you mean by Ha! ha!?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Precisely, sir, what you mean by He! he!
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  You need not dispute about terms; they are two
+modes of expressing merriment, with or without reason; reason being
+in no way essential to mirth.  No man should ask another why he
+laughs, or at what, seeing that he does not always know, and that,
+if he does, he is not a responsible agent.  Laughter is an
+involuntary action of certain muscles, developed in the human
+species by the progress of civilisation.  The savage never laughs.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No, sir, he has nothing to laugh at.  Give him
+Modern Athens, the "learned friend," and the Steam Intellect
+Society.  They will develop his muscles.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III:  THE ROMAN CAMP
+
+
+
+He loved her more then seven yere,
+Yet was he of her love never the nere;
+He was not ryche of golde and fe,
+A gentyll man forsoth was he.
+The Squyr of Lowe Degre.
+
+The Reverend Doctor Folliott having promised to return to dinner,
+walked back to his vicarage, meditating whether he should pass the
+morning in writing his next sermon, or in angling for trout, and
+had nearly decided in favour of the latter proposition, repeating
+to himself, with great unction, the lines of Chaucer:
+
+And as for me, though that I can but lite,
+On bokis for to read I me delite,
+And to 'hem yeve I faithe and full credence,
+And in mine herte have 'hem in reverence,
+So hertily, that there is game none,
+That fro my bokis makith me to gone,
+But it be seldome, on the holie daie;
+Save certainly whan that the month of Maie
+Is cousin, and I here the foulis sing,
+And that the flouris ginnin for to spring,
+Farwell my boke and my devocion:
+
+
+when his attention was attracted by a young gentleman who was
+sitting on a camp stool with a portfolio on his knee, taking a
+sketch of the Roman Camp, which, as has been already said, was
+within the enclosed domain of Mr. Crotchet.  The young stranger,
+who had climbed over the fence, espying the portly divine, rose up,
+and hoped that he was not trespassing.  "By no means, sir," said
+the divine, "all the arts and sciences are welcome here; music,
+painting, and poetry; hydrostatics and political economy;
+meteorology, transcendentalism, and fish for breakfast."
+
+THE STRANGER.  A pleasant association, sir, and a liberal and
+discriminating hospitality.  This is an old British camp, I
+believe, sir?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Roman, sir; Roman; undeniably Roman.  The
+vallum is past controversy.  It was not a camp, sir, a castrum, but
+a castellum, a little camp, or watch-station, to which was
+attached, on the peak of the adjacent hill, a beacon for
+transmitting alarms.  You will find such here and there, all along
+the range of chalk hills, which traverses the country from north-
+east to south-west, and along the base of which runs the ancient
+Iknield road, whereof you may descry a portion in that long
+straight white line.
+
+THE STRANGER.  I beg your pardon, sir; do I understand this place
+to be your property?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  It is not mine, sir:  the more is the pity; yet
+is it so far well, that the owner is my good friend, and a highly
+respectable gentleman.
+
+THE STRANGER.  Good and respectable, sir, I take it, means rich?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  That is their meaning, sir.
+
+THE STRANGER.  I understand the owner to be a Mr. Crotchet.  He has
+a handsome daughter, I am told.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  He has, sir.  Her eyes are like the fish-pools
+of Heshbon, by the gate of Bethrabbim; and she is to have a
+handsome fortune, to which divers disinterested gentlemen are
+paying their addresses.  Perhaps you design to be one of them?
+
+THE STRANGER.  No, sir; I beg pardon if my questions seem
+impertinent; I have no such design.  There is a son too, I believe,
+sir, a great and successful blower of bubbles?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  A hero, sir, in his line.  Never did angler in
+September hook more gudgeons.
+
+THE STRANGER.  To say the truth, two very amiable young people,
+with whom I have some little acquaintance, Lord Bossnowl, and his
+sister, Lady Clarinda, are reported to be on the point of
+concluding a double marriage with Miss Crotchet and her brother; by
+way of putting a new varnish on old nobility.  Lord Foolincourt,
+their father, is terribly poor for a lord who owns a borough.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Well, sir, the Crotchets have plenty of money,
+and the old gentleman's weak point is a hankering after high blood.
+I saw your acquaintance, Lord Bossnowl, this morning, but I did not
+see his sister.  She may be there, nevertheless, and doing
+fashionable justice to this fine May morning, by lying in bed till
+noon.
+
+THE STRANGER.  Young Mr. Crotchet, sir, has been, like his father,
+the architect of his own fortune, has he not?  An illustrious
+example of the reward of honesty and industry?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  As to honesty, sir, he made his fortune in the
+city of London, and if that commodity be of any value there, you
+will find it in the price current.  I believe it is below par, like
+the shares of young Crotchet's fifty companies.  But his progress
+has not been exactly like his father's.  It has been more rapid,
+and he started with more advantages.  He began with a fine capital
+from his father.  The old gentleman divided his fortune into three
+not exactly equal portions; one for himself, one for his daughter,
+and one for his son, which he handed over to him, saying, "Take it
+once for all, and make the most of it; if you lose it where I won
+it, not another stiver do you get from me during my life."  But,
+sir, young Crotchet doubled, and trebled, and quadrupled it, and
+is, as you say, a striking example of the reward of industry; not
+that I think his labour has been so great as his luck.
+
+THE STRANGER.  But, sir, is all this solid? is there no danger of
+reaction? no day of reckoning to cut down in an hour prosperity
+that has grown up like a mushroom?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Nay, sir, I know not.  I do not pry into these
+matters.  I am, for my own part, very well satisfied with the young
+gentleman.  Let those who are not so look to themselves.  It is
+quite enough for me that he came down last night from London, and
+that he had the good sense to bring with him a basket of lobsters.
+Sir, I wish you a good morning.
+
+The stranger having returned the reverend gentleman's good morning,
+resumed his sketch, and was intently employed on it when Mr.
+Crotchet made his appearance with Mr. Mac Quedy and Mr. Skionar,
+whom he was escorting round his grounds, according to his custom
+with new visitors; the principal pleasure of possessing an
+extensive domain being that of showing it to other people.  Mr. Mac
+Quedy, according also to the laudable custom of his countrymen, had
+been appraising everything that fell under his observation; but, on
+arriving at the Roman camp, of which the value was purely
+imaginary, he contented himself with exclaiming:  "Eh! this is just
+a curiosity, and very pleasant to sit in on a summer day."
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  And call up the days of old, when the Roman eagle
+spread its wings in the place of that beechen foliage.  It gives a
+fine idea of duration, to think that that fine old tree must have
+sprung from the earth ages after this camp was formed.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  How old, think you, may the tree be?
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  I have records which show it to be three hundred
+years old.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  That is a great age for a beech in good condition.
+But you see the camp is some fifteen hundred years, or so, older;
+and three times six being eighteen, I think you get a clearer idea
+of duration out of the simple arithmetic, than out of your eagle
+and foliage.
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  That is a very unpoetical, if not unphilosophical,
+mode of viewing antiquities.  Your philosophy is too literal for
+our imperfect vision.  We cannot look directly into the nature of
+things; we can only catch glimpses of the mighty shadow in the
+camera obscura of transcendental intelligence.  These six and
+eighteen are only words to which we give conventional meanings.  We
+can reason, but we cannot feel, by help of them.  The tree and the
+eagle, contemplated in the ideality of space and time, become
+subjective realities, that rise up as landmarks in the mystery of
+the past.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, sir, if you understand that, I wish you joy.
+But I must be excused for holding that my proposition, three times
+six are eighteen, is more intelligible than yours.  A worthy friend
+of mine, who is a sort of amateur in philosophy, criticism,
+politics, and a wee bit of many things more, says:  "Men never
+begin to study antiquities till they are saturated with
+civilisation."
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  What is civilisation?
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  It is just respect for property.  A state in which
+no man takes wrongfully what belongs to another, is a perfectly
+civilised state.
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  Your friend's antiquaries must have lived in El
+Dorado, to have had an opportunity of being saturated with such a
+state.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  It is a question of degree.  There is more respect
+for property here than in Angola.
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  That depends on the light in which things are viewed.
+
+Mr. Crotchet was rubbing his hands, in hopes of a fine discussion,
+when they came round to the side of the camp where the picturesque
+gentleman was sketching.  The stranger was rising up, when Mr.
+Crotchet begged him not to disturb himself, and presently walked
+away with his two guests.
+
+Shortly after, Miss Crotchet and Lady Clarinda, who had breakfasted
+by themselves, made their appearance at the same spot, hanging each
+on an arm of Lord Bossnowl, who very much preferred their company
+to that of the philosophers, though he would have preferred the
+company of the latter, or any company to his own.  He thought it
+very singular that so agreeable a person as he held himself to be
+to others, should be so exceedingly tiresome to himself:  he did
+not attempt to investigate the cause of this phenomenon, but was
+contented with acting on his knowledge of the fact, and giving
+himself as little of his own private society as possible.
+
+The stranger rose as they approached, and was immediately
+recognised by the Bossnowls as an old acquaintance, and saluted
+with the exclamation of "Captain Fitzchrome!"  The interchange of
+salutations between Lady Clarinda and the Captain was accompanied
+with an amiable confusion on both sides, in which the observant
+eyes of Miss Crotchet seemed to read the recollection of an affair
+of the heart.
+
+Lord Bossnowl was either unconscious of any such affair, or
+indifferent to its existence.  He introduced the Captain very
+cordially to Miss Crotchet; and the young lady invited him, as the
+friend of their guests, to partake of her father's hospitality, an
+offer which was readily accepted.
+
+The Captain took his portfolio under his right arm, his camp stool
+in his right hand, offered his left arm to Lady Clarinda, and
+followed at a reasonable distance behind Miss Crotchet and Lord
+Bossnowl, contriving, in the most natural manner possible, to drop
+more and more into the rear.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  I am glad to see you can make yourself so happy
+with drawing old trees and mounds of grass.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Happy, Lady Clarinda! oh, no!  How can I be
+happy when I see the idol of my heart about to be sacrificed on the
+shrine of Mammon?
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Do you know, though Mammon has a sort of ill name,
+I really think he is a very popular character; there must be at the
+bottom something amiable about him.  He is certainly one of those
+pleasant creatures whom everybody abuses, but without whom no
+evening party is endurable.  I dare say, love in a cottage is very
+pleasant; but then it positively must be a cottage ornee:  but
+would not the same love be a great deal safer in a castle, even if
+Mammon furnished the fortification?
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Oh, Lady Clarinda! there is a heartlessness in
+that language that chills me to the soul.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Heartlessness!  No:  my heart is on my lips.  I
+speak just what I think.  You used to like it, and say it was as
+delightful as it was rare.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  True, but you did not then talk as you do now,
+of love in a castle.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Well, but only consider:  a dun is a horridly
+vulgar creature; it is a creature I cannot endure the thought of:
+and a cottage lets him in so easily.  Now a castle keeps him at
+bay.  You are a half-pay officer, and are at leisure to command the
+garrison:  but where is the castle? and who is to furnish the
+commissariat?
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Is it come to this, that you make a jest of my
+poverty?  Yet is my poverty only comparative.  Many decent families
+are maintained on smaller means.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Decent families:  ay, decent is the distinction
+from respectable.  Respectable means rich, and decent means poor.
+I should die if I heard my family called decent.  And then your
+decent family always lives in a snug little place:  I hate a little
+place; I like large rooms and large looking-glasses, and large
+parties, and a fine large butler, with a tinge of smooth red in his
+face; an outward and visible sign that the family he serves is
+respectable; if not noble, highly respectable.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  I cannot believe that you say all this in
+earnest.  No man is less disposed than I am to deny the importance
+of the substantial comforts of life.  I once flattered myself that
+in our estimate of these things we were nearly of a mind.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Do you know, I think an opera-box a very
+substantial comfort, and a carriage.  You will tell me that many
+decent people walk arm-in-arm through the snow, and sit in clogs
+and bonnets in the pit at the English theatre.  No doubt it is very
+pleasant to those who are used to it; but it is not to my taste.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  You always delighted in trying to provoke me;
+but I cannot believe that you have not a heart.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  You do not like to believe that I have a heart, you
+mean.  You wish to think I have lost it, and you know to whom; and
+when I tell you that it is still safe in my own keeping, and that I
+do not mean to give it away, the unreasonable creature grows angry.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Angry! far from it; I am perfectly cool.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Why, you are pursing your brows, biting your lips,
+and lifting up your foot as if you would stamp it into the earth.
+I must say anger becomes you; you would make a charming Hotspur.
+Your every-day-dining-out face is rather insipid:  but I assure you
+my heart is in danger when you are in the heroics.  It is so rare,
+too, in these days of smooth manners, to see anything like natural
+expression in a man's face.  There is one set form for every man's
+face in female society:  a sort of serious comedy walking
+gentleman's face:  but the moment the creature falls in love he
+begins to give himself airs, and plays off all the varieties of his
+physiognomy from the Master Slender to the Petruchio; and then he
+is actually very amusing.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Well, Lady Clarinda, I will not be angry,
+amusing as it may be to you:  I listen more in sorrow than in
+anger.  I half believe you in earnest:  and mourn as over a fallen
+angel.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  What, because I have made up my mind not to give
+away my heart when I can sell it?  I will introduce you to my new
+acquaintance, Mr. Mac Quedy:  he will talk to you by the hour about
+exchangeable value, and show you that no rational being will part
+with anything, except to the highest bidder.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Now, I am sure you are not in earnest.  You
+cannot adopt such sentiments in their naked deformity.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Naked deformity!  Why, Mr. Mac Quedy will prove to
+you that they are the cream of the most refined philosophy.  You
+live a very pleasant life as a bachelor, roving about the country
+with your portfolio under your arm.  I am not fit to be a poor
+man's wife.  I cannot take any kind of trouble, or do any one thing
+that is of any use.  Many decent families roast a bit of mutton on
+a string; but if I displease my father I shall not have as much as
+will buy the string, to say nothing of the meat; and the bare idea
+of such cookery gives me the horrors.
+
+
+By this time they were near the Castle, and met Miss Crotchet and
+her companion, who had turned back to meet them.  Captain
+Fitzchrome was shortly after heartily welcomed by Mr. Crotchet, and
+the party separated to dress for dinner, the Captain being by no
+means in an enviable state of mind, and full of misgivings as to
+the extent of belief that he was bound to accord to the words of
+the lady of his heart.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV:  THE PARTY
+
+
+
+En quoi cognoissez-vous la folie anticque?  En quoi cognoissez-vous
+la sagesse presente?--RABELAIS.
+
+"If I were sketching a bandit who had just shot his last pursuer,
+having outrun all the rest, that is the very face I would give
+him," soliloquised the Captain, as he studied the features of his
+rival in the drawing-room, during the miserable half-hour before
+dinner, when dulness reigns predominant over expectant company,
+especially when they are waiting for some one last comer, whom they
+all heartily curse in their hearts, and whom, nevertheless, or
+indeed therefore-the-more, they welcome as a sinner, more heartily
+than all the just persons who had been punctual to their
+engagement.  Some new visitors had arrived in the morning, and, as
+the company dropped in one by one, the Captain anxiously watched
+the unclosing door for the form of his beloved:  but she was the
+last to make her appearance, and on her entry gave him a malicious
+glance, which he construed into a telegraphic communication that
+she had stayed away to torment him.  Young Crotchet escorted her
+with marked attention to the upper end of the drawing-room, where a
+great portion of the company was congregated around Miss Crotchet.
+These being the only ladies in the company, it was evident that old
+Mr. Crotchet would give his arm to Lady Clarinda, an arrangement
+with which the Captain could not interfere.  He therefore took his
+station near the door, studying his rival from a distance, and
+determined to take advantage of his present position, to secure the
+seat next to his charmer.  He was meditating on the best mode of
+operation for securing this important post with due regard to bien-
+seance, when he was twitched by the button by Mr. Mac Quedy, who
+said to him:  "Lady Clarinda tells me, sir, that you are anxious to
+talk with me on the subject of exchangeable value, from which I
+infer that you have studied political economy, and as a great deal
+depends on the definition of value, I shall be glad to set you
+right on that point."  "I am much obliged to you, sir," said the
+Captain, and was about to express his utter disqualification for
+the proposed instruction, when Mr. Skionar walked up and said:
+"Lady Clarinda informs me that you wish to talk over with me the
+question of subjective reality.  I am delighted to fall in with a
+gentleman who daily appreciates the transcendental philosophy."
+"Lady Clarinda is too good," said the Captain; and was about to
+protest that he had never heard the word "transcendental" before,
+when the butler announced dinner.  Mr. Crotchet led the way with
+Lady Clarinda:  Lord Bossnowl followed with Miss Crotchet:  the
+economist and transcendentalist pinned in the Captain, and held
+him, one by each arm, as he impatiently descended the stairs in the
+rear of several others of the company, whom they had forced him to
+let pass; but the moment he entered the dining-room he broke loose
+from them, and at the expense of a little brusquerie, secured his
+position.
+
+"Well, Captain," said Lady Clarinda, "I perceive you can still
+manoeuvre."
+
+"What could possess you," said the Captain, "to send two
+unendurable and inconceivable bores to intercept me with rubbish
+about which I neither know nor care any more than the man in the
+moon?"
+
+"Perhaps," said Lady Clarinda, "I saw your design, and wished to
+put your generalship to the test.  But do not contradict anything I
+have said about you, and see if the learned will find you out."
+
+"There is fine music, as Rabelais observes, in the cliquetis
+d'asssiettes, a refreshing shade in the ombre de salle a manger,
+and an elegant fragrance in the fumee de roti," said a voice at the
+Captain's elbow.  The Captain turning round, recognised his
+clerical friend of the morning, who knew him again immediately, and
+said he was extremely glad to meet him there; more especially as
+Lady Clarinda had assured him that he was an enthusiastic lover of
+Greek poetry.
+
+"Lady Clarinda," said the Captain, "is a very pleasant young lady."
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  So she is, sir:  and I understand she has all
+the wit of the family to herself, whatever that totum may be.  But
+a glass of wine after soup is, as the French say, the verre de
+sante.  The current of opinion sets in favour of Hock:  but I am
+for Madeira; I do not fancy Hock till I have laid a substratum of
+Madeira.  Will you join me?
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  With pleasure.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Here is a very fine salmon before me:  and May
+is the very point nomme to have salmon in perfection.  There is a
+fine turbot close by, and there is much to be said in his behalf:
+but salmon in May is the king of fish.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  That salmon before you, doctor, was caught in the
+Thames, this morning.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  [Greek text].  Rarity of rarities!  A Thames
+salmon caught this morning.  Now, Mr. Mac Quedy, even in fish your
+Modern Athens must yield.  Cedite Graii.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Eh! sir, on its own around, your Thames salmon has
+two virtues over all others; first, that it is fresh; and, second,
+that it is rare; for I understand you do not take half a dozen in a
+year.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  In some years, sir, not one.  Mud, filth, gas-
+dregs, lock-weirs, and the march of mind, developed in the form of
+poaching, have ruined the fishery.  But, when we do catch a salmon,
+happy the man to whom he falls.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  I confess, sir, this is excellent:  but I cannot
+see why it should be better than a Tweed salmon at Kelso.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, I will take a glass of Hock with you.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  With all my heart, sir.  There are several
+varieties of the salmon genus:  but the common salmon, the salmo
+salar, is only one species, one and the same everywhere, just like
+the human mind.  Locality and education make all the difference.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Education!  Well, sir, I have no doubt schools
+for all are just as fit for the species salmo salar as for the
+genus homo.  But you must allow that the specimen before us has
+finished his education in a manner that does honour to his college.
+However, I doubt that the salmo salar is only one species, that is
+to say, precisely alike in all localities.  I hold that every river
+has its own breed, with essential differences; in flavour
+especially.  And as for the human mind, I deny that it is the same
+in all men.  I hold that there is every variety of natural capacity
+from the idiot to Newton and Shakespeare; the mass of mankind,
+midway between these extremes, being blockheads of different
+degrees; education leaving them pretty nearly as it found them,
+with this single difference, that it gives a fixed direction to
+their stupidity, a sort of incurable wry neck to the thing they
+call their understanding.  So one nose points always east, and
+another always west, and each is ready to swear that it points due
+north.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  If that be the point of truth, very few intellectual
+noses point due north.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Only those that point to the Modern Athens.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Where all native noses point southward.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Eh, sir, northward for wisdom, and southward for
+profit.
+
+MR. CROTCHET, JUN.  Champagne, doctor?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Most willingly.  But you will permit my
+drinking it while it sparkles.  I hold it a heresy to let it deaden
+in my hand, while the glass of my compotator is being filled on the
+opposite side of the table.  By-the-bye, Captain, you remember a
+passage in Athenaeus, where he cites Menander on the subject of
+fish-sauce:  [Greek text].  (The Captain was aghast for an answer
+that would satisfy both his neighbours, when he was relieved by the
+divine continuing.)  The science of fish-sauce, Mr. Mac Quedy, is
+by no means brought to perfection; a fine field of discovery still
+lies open in that line.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Nay, sir, beyond lobster-sauce, I take it, ye
+cannot go.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  In their line, I grant you, oyster and lobster-
+sauce are the pillars of Hercules.  But I speak of the cruet
+sauces, where the quintessence of the sapid is condensed in a
+phial.  I can taste in my mind's palate a combination, which, if I
+could give it reality, I would christen with the name of my
+college, and hand it down to posterity as a seat of learning
+indeed.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, sir, I wish you success, but I cannot let
+slip the question we started just now.  I say, cutting off idiots,
+who have no minds at all, all minds are by nature alike.  Education
+(which begins from their birth) makes them what they are.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No, sir, it makes their tendencies, not their
+power.  Caesar would have been the first wrestler on the village
+common.  Education might have made him a Nadir Shah; it might also
+have made him a Washington; it could not have made him a merry-
+andrew, for our newspapers to extol as a model of eloquence.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Now, sir, I think education would have made him
+just anything, and fit for any station, from the throne to the
+stocks; saint or sinner, aristocrat or democrat, judge, counsel, or
+prisoner at the bar.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I will thank you for a slice of lamb, with
+lemon and pepper.  Before I proceed with this discussion,--Vin de
+Grave, Mr. Skionar,--I must interpose one remark.  There is a set
+of persons in your city, Mr. Mac Quedy, who concoct, every three or
+four months, a thing, which they call a review:  a sort of sugar-
+plum manufacturers to the Whig aristocracy.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  I cannot tell, sir, exactly, what you mean by that;
+but I hope you will speak of those gentlemen with respect, seeing
+that I am one of them.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, I must drown my inadvertence in a glass of
+Sauterne with you.  There is a set of gentlemen in your city -
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Not in our city, exactly; neither are they a set.
+There is an editor, who forages for articles in all quarters, from
+John o' Groat's house to the Land's End.  It is not a board, or a
+society:  it is a mere intellectual bazaar, where A, B, and C,
+bring their wares to market.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Well, sir, these gentlemen among them, the
+present company excepted, have practised as much dishonesty as, in
+any other department than literature, would have brought the
+practitioner under the cognisance of the police.  In politics, they
+have ran with the hare and hunted with the hound.  In criticism,
+they have, knowingly and unblushingly, given false characters, both
+for good and for evil; sticking at no art of misrepresentation, to
+clear out of the field of literature all who stood in the way of
+the interests of their own clique.  They have never allowed their
+own profound ignorance of anything (Greek for instance) to throw
+even an air of hesitation into their oracular decision on the
+matter.  They set an example of profligate contempt for truth, of
+which the success was in proportion to the effrontery; and when
+their prosperity had filled the market with competitors, they cried
+out against their own reflected sin, as if they had never committed
+it, or were entitled to a monopoly of it.  The latter, I rather
+think, was what they wanted.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Hermitage, doctor?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Nothing better, sir.  The father who first
+chose the solitude of that vineyard, knew well how to cultivate his
+spirit in retirement.  Now, Mr. Mac Quedy, Achilles was
+distinguished above all the Greeks for his inflexible love of
+truth; could education have made Achilles one of your reviewers?
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  No doubt of it, even if your character of them were
+true to the letter.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  And I say, sir--chicken and asparagus--Titan
+had made him of better clay.  I hold with Pindar, "All that is most
+excellent is so by nature."  [Greek text].  Education can give
+purposes, but not powers; and whatever purposes had been given him,
+he would have gone straight forward to them; straight forward, Mr.
+Mac Quedy.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  No, sir, education makes the man, powers, purposes,
+and all.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  There is the point, sir, on which we join
+issue.
+
+Several others of the company now chimed in with their opinions,
+which gave the divine an opportunity to degustate one or two side
+dishes, and to take a glass of wine with each of the young ladies.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V:  CHARACTERS
+
+
+
+Ay impute a honte plus que mediocre etre vu spectateur ocieux de
+tant vaillans, disertz, et chevalereux personnaiges.
+RABELAIS.
+
+LADY CLARINDA (to the Captain).  I declare the creature has been
+listening to all this rigmarole, instead of attending to me.  Do
+you ever expect forgiveness?  But now that they are all talking
+together, and you cannot make out a word they say, nor they hear a
+word that we say, I will describe the company to you.  First, there
+is the old gentleman on my left hand, at the head of the table, who
+is now leaning the other way to talk to my brother.  He is a good-
+tempered, half-informed person, very unreasonably fond of
+reasoning, and of reasoning people; people that talk nonsense
+logically:  he is fond of disputation himself, when there are only
+one or two, but seldom does more than listen in a large company of
+illumines.  He made a great fortune in the city, and has the
+comfort of a good conscience.  He is very hospitable, and is
+generous in dinners; though nothing would induce him to give
+sixpence to the poor, because he holds that all misfortune is from
+imprudence, that none but the rich ought to marry, and that all
+ought to thrive by honest industry, as he did.  He is ambitious of
+founding a family, and of allying himself with nobility; and is
+thus as willing as other grown children to throw away thousands for
+a gew-gaw, though he would not part with a penny for charity.  Next
+to him is my brother, whom you know as well as I do.  He has
+finished his education with credit, and as he never ventures to
+oppose me in anything, I have no doubt he is very sensible.  He has
+good manners, is a model of dress, and is reckoned ornamental in
+all societies.  Next to him is Miss Crotchet, my sister-in-law that
+is to be.  You see she is rather pretty, and very genteel.  She is
+tolerably accomplished, has her table always covered with new
+novels, thinks Mr. Mac Quedy an oracle, and is extremely desirous
+to be called "my lady."  Next to her is Mr. Firedamp, a very absurd
+person, who thinks that water is the evil principle.  Next to him
+is Mr. Eavesdrop, a man who, by dint of a certain something like
+smartness, has got into good society.  He is a sort of bookseller's
+tool, and coins all his acquaintance in reminiscences and sketches
+of character.  I am very shy of him, for fear he should print me.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  If he print you in your own likeness, which is
+that of an angel, you need not fear him.  If he print you in any
+other, I will cut his throat.  But proceed -
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Next to him is Mr. Henbane, the toxicologist, I
+think he calls himself.  He has passed half his life in studying
+poisons and antidotes.  The first thing he did on his arrival here
+was to kill the cat; and while Miss Crotchet was crying over her,
+he brought her to life again.  I am more shy of him than the other.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  They are two very dangerous fellows, and I
+shall take care to keep them both at a respectful distance.  Let us
+hope that Eavesdrop will sketch off Henbane, and that Henbane will
+poison him for his trouble.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Well, next to him sits Mr. Mac Quedy, the Modern
+Athenian, who lays down the law about everything, and therefore may
+be taken to understand everything.  He turns all the affairs of
+this world into questions of buying and selling.  He is the Spirit
+of the Frozen Ocean to everything like romance and sentiment.  He
+condenses their volume of steam into a drop of cold water in a
+moment.  He has satisfied me that I am a commodity in the market,
+and that I ought to set myself at a high price.  So you see, he who
+would have me must bid for me.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  I shall discuss that point with Mr. Mac Quedy.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Not a word for your life.  Our flirtation is our
+own secret.  Let it remain so.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Flirtation, Clarinda!  Is that all that the
+most ardent -
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Now, don't be rhapsodical here.  Next to Mr. Mac
+Quedy is Mr. Skionar, a sort of poetical philosopher, a curious
+compound of the intense and the mystical.  He abominates all the
+ideas of Mr. Mac Quedy, and settles everything by sentiment and
+intuition.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Then, I say, he is the wiser man.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  They are two oddities, but a little of them is
+amusing, and I like to hear them dispute.  So you see I am in
+training for a philosopher myself.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Any philosophy, for Heaven's sake, but the
+pound-shilling-and-pence philosophy of Mr. Mac Quedy.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Why, they say that even Mr. Skionar, though he is a
+great dreamer, always dreams with his eyes open, or with one eye at
+any rate, which is an eye to his gain:  but I believe that in this
+respect the poor man has got an ill name by keeping bad company.
+He has two dear friends, Mr. Wilful Wontsee, and Mr. Rumblesack
+Shantsee, poets of some note, who used to see visions of Utopia,
+and pure republics beyond the Western deep:  but, finding that
+these El Dorados brought them no revenue, they turned their vision-
+seeing faculty into the more profitable channel of espying all
+sorts of virtues in the high and the mighty, who were able and
+willing to pay for the discovery.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  I do not fancy these virtue-spyers.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Next to Mr. Skionar sits Mr. Chainmail, a good-
+looking young gentleman, as you see, with very antiquated tastes.
+He is fond of old poetry, and is something of a poet himself.  He
+is deep in monkish literature, and holds that the best state of
+society was that of the twelfth century, when nothing was going
+forward but fighting, feasting, and praying, which he says are the
+three great purposes for which man was made.  He laments bitterly
+over the inventions of gunpowder, steam, and gas, which he says
+have ruined the world.  He lives within two or three miles, and has
+a large hall, adorned with rusty pikes, shields, helmets, swords,
+and tattered banners, and furnished with yew-tree chairs, and two
+long old worm-eaten oak tables, where he dines with all his
+household, after the fashion of his favourite age.  He wants us all
+to dine with him, and I believe we shall go.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  That will be something new, at any rate.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Next to him is Mr. Toogood, the co-operationist,
+who will have neither fighting nor praying; but wants to parcel out
+the world into squares like a chess-board, with a community on
+each, raising everything for one another, with a great steam-engine
+to serve them in common for tailor and hosier, kitchen and cook.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  He is the strangest of the set, so far.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  This brings us to the bottom of the table, where
+sits my humble servant, Mr. Crotchet the younger.  I ought not to
+describe him.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  I entreat you do.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Well, I really have very little to say in his
+favour.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  I do not wish to hear anything in his favour;
+and I rejoice to hear you say so, because -
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Do not flatter yourself.  If I take him, it will be
+to please my father, and to have a town and country house, and
+plenty of servants and a carriage and an opera-box, and make some
+of my acquaintance who have married for love, or for rank, or for
+anything but money, die for envy of my jewels.  You do not think I
+would take him for himself.  Why, he is very smooth and spruce as
+far as his dress goes; but as to his face, he looks as if he had
+tumbled headlong into a volcano, and been thrown up again among the
+cinders.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  I cannot believe, that, speaking thus of him,
+you mean to take him at all.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Oh! I am out of my teens.  I have been very much in
+love; but now I am come to years of discretion, and must think,
+like other people, of settling myself advantageously.  He was in
+love with a banker's daughter, and cast her off at her father's
+bankruptcy, and the poor girl has gone to hide herself in some wild
+place.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  She must have a strange taste, if she pines
+for the loss of him.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  They say he was good-looking, till his bubble
+schemes, as they call them, stamped him with the physiognomy of a
+desperate gambler.  I suspect he has still a penchant towards his
+first flame.  If he takes me, it will be for my rank and
+connection, and the second seat of the borough of Rogueingrain.  So
+we shall meet on equal terms, and shall enjoy all the blessedness
+of expecting nothing from each other.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  You can expect no security with such an
+adventurer.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  I shall have the security of a good settlement, and
+then if andare al diavolo be his destiny, he may go, you know, by
+himself.  He is almost always dreaming and distrait.  It is very
+likely that some great reverse is in store for him:  but that will
+not concern me, you perceive.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  You torture me, Clarinda, with the bare
+possibility.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Hush!  Here is music to soothe your troubled
+spirit.  Next to him, on this side, sits the dilettante composer,
+Mr. Trillo; they say his name was O'Trill, and he has taken the O
+from the beginning, and put it at the end.  I do not know how this
+may be.  He plays well on the violoncello, and better on the piano;
+sings agreeably; has a talent at versemaking, and improvises a song
+with some felicity.  He is very agreeable company in the evening,
+with his instruments and music-books.  He maintains that the sole
+end of all enlightened society is to get up a good opera, and
+laments that wealth, genius, and energy are squandered upon other
+pursuits, to the neglect of this one great matter.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  That is a very pleasant fancy at any rate.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  I assure you he has a great deal to say for it.
+Well, next to him, again, is Dr. Morbific, who has been all over
+the world to prove that there is no such thing as contagion; and
+has inoculated himself with plague, yellow fever, and every variety
+of pestilence, and is still alive to tell the story.  I am very shy
+of him, too; for I look on him as a walking phial of wrath, corked
+full of all infections, and not to be touched without extreme
+hazard.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  This is the strangest fellow of all.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Next to him sits Mr. Philpot, the geographer, who
+thinks of nothing but the heads and tails of rivers, and lays down
+the streams of Terra Incognita as accurately as if he had been
+there.  He is a person of pleasant fancy, and makes a sort of fairy
+land of every country he touches, from the Frozen Ocean to the
+Deserts of Sahara.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  How does he settle matters with Mr. Firedamp?
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  You see Mr. Firedamp has got as far as possible out
+of his way.  Next to him is Sir Simon Steeltrap, of Steeltrap
+Lodge, Member for Crouching-Curtown, Justice of Peace for the
+county, and Lord of the United Manors of Spring-gun-and-Treadmill;
+a great preserver of game and public morals.  By administering the
+laws which he assists in making, he disposes, at his pleasure, of
+the land and its live stock, including all the two-legged
+varieties, with and without feathers, in a circumference of several
+miles round Steeltrap Lodge.  He has enclosed commons and
+woodlands; abolished cottage gardens; taken the village cricket-
+ground into his own park, out of pure regard to the sanctity of
+Sunday; shut up footpaths and alehouses (all but those which belong
+to his electioneering friend, Mr. Quassia, the brewer); put down
+fairs and fiddlers; committed many poachers; shot a few; convicted
+one-third of the peasantry; suspected the rest; and passed nearly
+the whole of them through a wholesome course of prison discipline,
+which has finished their education at the expense of the county.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  He is somewhat out of his element here:  among
+such a diversity of opinions he will hear some he will not like.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  It was rather ill-judged in Mr. Crotchet to invite
+him to-day.  But the art of assorting company is above these
+parvenus.  They invite a certain number of persons without
+considering how they harmonise with each other.  Between Sir Simon
+and you is the Reverend Doctor Folliott.  He is said to be an
+excellent scholar, and is fonder of books than the majority of his
+cloth; he is very fond, also, of the good things of this world.  He
+is of an admirable temper, and says rude things in a pleasant half-
+earnest manner, that nobody can take offence with.  And next to him
+again is one Captain Fitzchrome, who is very much in love with a
+certain person that does not mean to have anything to say to him,
+because she can better her fortune by taking somebody else.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  And next to him again is the beautiful, the
+accomplished, the witty, the fascinating, the tormenting, Lady
+Clarinda, who traduces herself to the said Captain by assertions
+which it would drive him crazy to believe.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Time will show, sir.  And now we have gone the
+round of the table.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  But I must say, though I know you had always a
+turn for sketching characters, you surprise me by your observation,
+and especially by your attention to opinions.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Well, I will tell you a secret:  I am writing a
+novel.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  A novel!
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Yes, a novel.  And I shall get a little finery by
+it:  trinkets and fal-lals, which I cannot get from papa.  You must
+know I have been reading several fashionable novels, the
+fashionable this, and the fashionable that; and I thought to
+myself, why I can do better than any of these myself.  So I wrote a
+chapter or two, and sent them as a specimen to Mr. Puffall, the
+book-seller, telling him they were to be a part of the fashionable
+something or other, and he offered me, I will not say how much, to
+finish it in three volumes, and let him pay all the newspapers for
+recommending it as the work of a lady of quality, who had made very
+free with the characters of her acquaintance.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Surely you have not done so?
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Oh, no!  I leave that to Mr. Eavesdrop.  But Mr.
+Puffall made it a condition that I should let him say so.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  A strange recommendation.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Oh, nothing else will do.  And it seems you may
+give yourself any character you like, and the newspapers will print
+it as if it came from themselves.  I have commended you to three of
+our friends here as an economist, a transcendentalist, and a
+classical scholar; and if you wish to be renowned through the world
+for these, or any other accomplishments, the newspapers will
+confirm you in their possession for half-a-guinea a piece.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Truly, the praise of such gentry must be a
+feather in any one's cap.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  So you will see, some morning, that my novel is
+"the most popular production of the day."  This is Mr. Puffall's
+favourite phrase.  He makes the newspapers say it of everything he
+publishes.  But "the day," you know, is a very convenient phrase;
+it allows of three hundred and sixty-five "most popular
+productions" in a year.  And in leap-year one more.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI:  THEORIES
+
+
+
+But when they came to shape the model,
+Not one could fit the other's noddle.--BUTLER.
+
+Meanwhile, the last course, and the dessert, passed by.  When the
+ladies had withdrawn, young Crotchet addressed the company.
+
+MR. CROTCHET, JUN.  There is one point in which philosophers of all
+classes seem to be agreed:  that they only want money to regenerate
+the world.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  No doubt of it.  Nothing is so easy as to lay down
+the outlines of perfect society.  There wants nothing but money to
+set it going.  I will explain myself clearly and fully by reading a
+paper.  (Producing a large scroll.)  "In the infancy of society--"
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Pray, Mr. Mac Quedy, how is it that all
+gentlemen of your nation begin everything they write with the
+"infancy of society?"
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Eh, sir, it is the simplest way to begin at the
+beginning.  "In the infancy of society, when government was
+invented to save a percentage; say two and a half per cent.--"
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I will not say any such thing.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, say any percentage you please.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I will not say any percentage at all.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  "On the principle of the division of labour--"
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Government was invented to spend a percentage.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  To save a percentage.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No, sir, to spend a percentage; and a good deal
+more than two and a half percent.  Two hundred and fifty per cent.:
+that is intelligible.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.--"In the infancy of society--"
+
+MR. TOOGOOD.--Never mind the infancy of society.  The question is
+of society in its maturity.  Here is what it should be.  (Producing
+a paper.)  I have laid it down in a diagram.
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  Before we proceed to the question of government, we
+must nicely discriminate the boundaries of sense, understanding,
+and reason.  Sense is a receptivity -
+
+MR. CROTCHET, JUN.  We are proceeding too fast.  Money being all
+that is wanted to regenerate society, I will put into the hands of
+this company a large sum for the purpose.  Now let us see how to
+dispose of it.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  We will begin by taking a committee-room in London,
+where we will dine together once a week, to deliberate.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  If the money is to go in deliberative dinners,
+you may set me down for a committee man and honorary caterer.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Next, you must all learn political economy, which I
+will teach you, very compendiously, in lectures over the bottle.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I hate lectures over the bottle.  But pray,
+sir, what is political economy?
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Political economy is to the state what domestic
+economy is to the family.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No such thing, sir.  In the family there is a
+paterfamilias, who regulates the distribution, and takes care that
+there shall be no such thing in the household as one dying of
+hunger, while another dies of surfeit.  In the state it is all
+hunger at one end, and all surfeit at the other.  Matchless claret,
+Mr. Crotchet.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Vintage of fifteen, Doctor.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  The family consumes, and so does the state.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Consumes, air!  Yes:  but the mode, the
+proportions:  there is the essential difference between the state
+and the family.  Sir, I hate false analogies.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, sir, the analogy is not essential.
+Distribution will come under its proper head.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Come where it will, the distribution of the
+state is in no respect analogous to the distribution of the family.
+The paterfamilias, sir:  the paterfamilias.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, sir, let that pass.  The family consumes, and
+in order to consume, it must have supply.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Well, sir, Adam and Eve knew that, when they
+delved and span.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Very true, sir (reproducing his scroll).  "In the
+infancy of society--"
+
+MR. TOOGOOD.  The reverend gentleman has hit the nail on the head.
+It is the distribution that must be looked to; it is the
+paterfamilias that is wanting in the State.  Now here I have
+provided him.  (Reproducing his diagram.)
+
+MR. TRILLO.  Apply the money, sir, to building and endowing an
+opera house, where the ancient altar of Bacchus may flourish, and
+justice may be done to sublime compositions.  (Producing a part of
+a manuscript opera.)
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  No, sir, build sacella for transcendental oracles to
+teach the world how to see through a glass darkly.  (Producing a
+scroll.)
+
+MR. TRILLO.  See through an opera-glass brightly.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  See through a wine-glass full of claret; then
+you see both darkly and brightly.  But, gentlemen, if you are all
+in the humour for reading papers, I will read you the first half of
+my next Sunday's sermon.  (Producing a paper.)
+
+OMNES.  No sermon!  No sermon!
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Then I move that our respective papers be
+committed to our respective pockets.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Political economy is divided into two great
+branches, production and consumption.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Yes, sir; there are two great classes of men:
+those who produce much and consume little; and those who consume
+much and produce nothing.  The fruges consumere nati have the best
+of it.  Eh, Captain!  You remember the characteristics of a great
+man according to Aristophanes:  [Greek text].  Ha! ha! ha!  Well,
+Captain, even in these tight-laced days, the obscurity of a learned
+language allows a little pleasantry.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Very true, sir; the pleasantry and the
+obscurity go together; they are all one, as it were--to me at any
+rate (aside).
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Now, sir -
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Pray, sir, let your science alone, or you will
+put me under the painful necessity of demolishing it bit by bit, as
+I have done your exordium.  I will undertake it any morning; but it
+is too hard exercise after dinner.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Well, sir, in the meantime I hold my science
+established.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  And I hold it demolished.
+
+MR. CROTCHET, JUN.  Pray, gentlemen, pocket your manuscripts, fill
+your glasses, and consider what we shall do with our money.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Build lecture-rooms, and schools for all.
+
+MR. TRILLO.  Revive the Athenian theatre; regenerate the lyrical
+drama.
+
+MR. TOOGOOD.  Build a grand co-operative parallelogram, with a
+steam-engine in the middle for a maid of all work.
+
+MR. FIREDAMP.  Drain the country, and get rid of malaria, by
+abolishing duck-ponds.
+
+DR. MORBIFIC.  Found a philanthropic college of anticontagionists,
+where all the members shall be inoculated with the virus of all
+known diseases.  Try the experiment on a grand scale.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Build a great dining-hall; endow it with beef and
+ale, and hang the hall round with arms to defend the provisions.
+
+MR. HENBANE.  Found a toxicological institution for trying all
+poisons and antidotes.  I myself have killed a frog twelve times,
+and brought him to life eleven; but the twelfth time he died.  I
+have a phial of the drug, which killed him, in my pocket, and shall
+not rest till I have discovered its antidote.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I move that the last speaker be dispossessed of
+his phial, and that it be forthwith thrown into the Thames.
+
+MR. HENBANE.  How, sir? my invaluable, and, in the present state of
+human knowledge, infallible poison?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Let the frogs have all the advantage of it.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Consider, Doctor, the fish might participate.  Think
+of the salmon.
+
+REV DR. FOLLIOTT.  Then let the owner's right-hand neighbour
+swallow it.
+
+MR. EAVESDROP.  Me, sir!  What have I done, sir, that I am to be
+poisoned, sir?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, you have published a character of your
+facetious friend, the Reverend Doctor F., wherein you have sketched
+off me; me, sir, even to my nose and wig.  What business have the
+public with my nose and wig?
+
+MR. EAVESDROP.  Sir, it is all good-humoured; all in bonhomie:  all
+friendly and complimentary.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, the bottle, la Dive Bouteille, is a
+recondite oracle, which makes an Eleusinian temple of the circle in
+which it moves.  He who reveals its mysteries must die.  Therefore,
+let the dose be administered.  Fiat experimentum in anima vili.
+
+MR. EAVESDROP.  Sir, you are very facetious at my expense.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, you have been very unfacetious, very
+inficete at mine.  You have dished me up, like a savoury omelette,
+to gratify the appetite of the reading rabble for gossip.  The next
+time, sir, I will respond with the argumentum baculinum.  Print
+that, sir:  put it on record as a promise of the Reverend Doctor
+F., which shall be most faithfully kept, with an exemplary bamboo.
+
+MR. EAVESDROP.  Your cloth protects you, sir.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  My bamboo shall protect me, sir.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Doctor, Doctor, you are growing too polemical.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, my blood boils.  What business have the
+public with my nose and wig?
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Doctor! Doctor!
+
+MR. CROTCHET, JUN.  Pray, gentlemen, return to the point.  How
+shall we employ our fund?
+
+MR. PHILPOT.  Surely in no way so beneficially as in exploring
+rivers.  Send a fleet of steamboats down the Niger, and another up
+the Nile.  So shall you civilise Africa, and establish stocking
+factories in Abyssinia and Bambo.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  With all submission, breeches and petticoats
+must precede stockings.  Send out a crew of tailors.  Try if the
+King of Bambo will invest in inexpressibles.
+
+MR. CROTCHET, JUN.  Gentlemen, it is not for partial, but for
+general benefit, that this fund is proposed:  a grand and
+universally applicable scheme for the amelioration of the condition
+of man.
+
+SEVERAL VOICES.  That is my scheme.  I have not heard a scheme but
+my own that has a grain of common sense.
+
+MR. TRILLO.  Gentlemen, you inspire me.  Your last exclamation runs
+itself into a chorus, and sets itself to music.  Allow me to lead,
+and to hope for your voices in harmony.
+
+
+After careful meditation,
+And profound deliberation,
+On the various pretty projects which have just been shown,
+Not a scheme in agitation,
+For the world's amelioration,
+Has a grain of common sense in it, except my own.
+
+
+SEVERAL VOICES.  We are not disposed to join in any such chorus.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Well, of all these schemes, I am for Mr.
+Trillo's.  Regenerate the Athenian theatre.  My classical friend
+here, the Captain, will vote with, me.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  I, sir? oh! of course, sir.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Surely, Captain, I rely on you to uphold political
+economy.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Me, sir! oh, to be sure, sir.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Pray, sir, will political economy uphold the
+Athenian theatre?
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Surely not.  It would be a very unproductive
+investment.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Then the Captain votes against you.  What, sir,
+did not the Athenians, the wisest of nations, appropriate to their
+theatre their most sacred and intangible fund?  Did not they give
+to melopoeia, choregraphy, and the sundry forms of didascalics, the
+precedence of all other matters, civil and military?  Was it not
+their law, that even the proposal to divert this fund to any other
+purpose should be punished with death?  But, sir, I further propose
+that the Athenian theatre being resuscitated, the admission shall
+be free to all who can expound the Greek choruses, constructively,
+mythologically, and metrically, and to none others.  So shall all
+the world learn Greek:  Greek, the Alpha and Omega of all
+knowledge.  At him who sits not in the theatre shall be pointed the
+finger of scorn:  he shall be called in the highway of the city, "a
+fellow without Greek."
+
+MR. TRILLO.  But the ladies, sir, the ladies.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Every man may take in a lady:  and she who can
+construe and metricise a chorus, shall, if she so please, pass in
+by herself.
+
+MR. TRILLO.  But, sir, you will shut me out of my own theatre.  Let
+there at least be a double passport, Greek and Italian.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No, sir; I am inexorable.  No Greek, no
+theatre.
+
+MR. TRILLO.  Sir, I cannot consent to be shut out from my own
+theatre.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  You see how it is, Squire Crotchet the younger;
+you can scarcely find two to agree on a scheme, and no two of those
+can agree on the details.  Keep your money in your pocket.  And so
+ends the fund for regenerating the world.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Nay, by no means.  We are all agreed on
+deliberative dinners.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Very true; we will dine and discuss.  We will
+sing with Robin Hood, "If I drink water while this doth last;" and
+while it lasts we will have no adjournment, if not to the Athenian
+theatre.
+
+MR. TRILLO.  Well, gentlemen, I hope this chorus at least will
+please you:-
+
+
+If I drink water while this doth last,
+May I never again drink wine:
+For how can a man, in his life of a span,
+Do anything better than dine?
+Well dine and drink, and say if we think
+That anything better can be,
+And when we have dined, wish all mankind
+May dine as well as we.
+And though a good wish will fill no dish
+And brim no cup with sack,
+Yet thoughts will spring as the glasses ring,
+To illume our studious track.
+On the brilliant dreams of our hopeful schemes
+The light of the flask shall shine;
+And we'll sit till day, but we'll find the way
+To drench the world with wine.
+
+
+The schemes for the world's regeneration evaporated in a tumult of
+voices.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII:  THE SLEEPING VENUS
+
+
+
+Quoth he:  In all my life till now,
+I ne'er saw so profane a show.--BUTLER.
+
+The library of Crotchet Castle was a large and well-furnished
+apartment, opening on one side into an ante-room, on the other into
+a music-room.  It had several tables stationed at convenient
+distances; one consecrated to the novelties of literature, another
+to the novelties of embellishment; others unoccupied, and at the
+disposal of the company.  The walls were covered with a copious
+collection of ancient and modern books; the ancient having been
+selected and arranged by the Reverend Doctor Folliott.  In the
+ante-room were card-tables; in the music-room were various
+instruments, all popular operas, and all fashionable music.  In
+this suite of apartments, and not in the drawing-room, were the
+evenings of Crotchet Castle usually passed.
+
+The young ladies were in the music-room; Miss Crotchet at the
+piano, Lady Clarinda at the harp, playing and occasionally singing,
+at the suggestion of Mr. Trillo, portions of Matilde di Shabran.
+Lord Bossnowl was turning over the leaves for Miss Crotchet; the
+Captain was performing the same office for Lady Clarinda, but with
+so much more attention to the lady than the book, that he often
+made sad work with the harmony, by turnover two leaves together.
+On these occasions Miss Crotchet paused, Lady Clarinda laughed, Mr.
+Trillo scolded, Lord Bossnowl yawned, the Captain apologised, and
+the performance proceeded.
+
+In the library Mr. Mac Quedy was expounding political economy to
+the Reverend Doctor Folliott, who was pro more demolishing its
+doctrines seriatim.
+
+Mr. Chainmail was in hot dispute with Mr. Skionar, touching the
+physical and moral well-being of man.  Mr. Skionar was enforcing
+his friend Mr. Shantsee's views of moral discipline; maintaining
+that the sole thing needful for man in this world was loyal and
+pious education; the giving men good books to read, and enough of
+the hornbook to read them; with a judicious interspersion of the
+lessons of Old Restraint, which was his poetic name for the parish
+stocks.  Mr. Chainmail, on the other hand, stood up for the
+exclusive necessity of beef and ale, lodging and raiment, wife and
+children, courage to fight for them all, and armour wherewith to do
+so.
+
+Mr. Henbane had got his face scratched, and his finger bitten, by
+the cat, in trying to catch her for a second experiment in killing
+and bringing to life; and Doctor Morbific was comforting him with a
+disquisition to prove that there were only four animals having the
+power to communicate hydrophobia, of which the cat was one; and
+that it was not necessary that the animal should be in a rabid
+state, the nature of the wound being everything, and the idea of
+contagion a delusion.  Mr. Henbane was listening very lugubriously
+to this dissertation.
+
+Mr. Philpot had seized on Mr. Firedamp, and pinned him down to a
+map of Africa, on which he was tracing imaginary courses of mighty
+inland rivers, terminating in lakes and marshes, where they were
+finally evaporated by the heat of the sun; and Mr. Firedamp's hair
+was standing on end at the bare imagination of the mass of malaria
+that must be engendered by the operation.  Mr. Toogood had begun
+explaining his diagrams to Sir Simon Steeltrap; but Sir Simon grew
+testy, and told Mr. Toogood that the promulgators of such doctrines
+ought to be consigned to the treadmill.  The philanthropist walked
+off from the country gentleman, and proceeded to hold forth to
+young Crotchet, who stood silent, as one who listens, but in
+reality without hearing a syllable.  Mr. Crotchet, senior, as the
+master of the house, was left to entertain himself with his own
+meditations, till the Reverend Doctor Folliott tore himself from
+Mr. Mac Quedy, and proceeded to expostulate with Mr. Crotchet on a
+delicate topic.
+
+There was an Italian painter, who obtained the name of Il
+Bragatore, by the superinduction of inexpressibles on the naked
+Apollos and Bacchuses of his betters.  The fame of this worthy
+remained one and indivisible, till a set of heads, which had been,
+by a too common mistake of Nature's journeymen, stuck upon
+magisterial shoulders, as the Corinthian capitals of "fair round
+bellies with fat capon lined," but which Nature herself had
+intended for the noddles of porcelain mandarins, promulgated
+simultaneously from the east and the west of London, an order that
+no plaster-of-Paris Venus should appear in the streets without
+petticoats.  Mr. Crotchet, on reading this order in the evening
+paper, which, by the postman's early arrival, was always laid on
+his breakfast-table, determined to fill his house with Venuses of
+all sizes and kinds.  In pursuance of this resolution, came
+packages by water-carriage, containing an infinite variety of
+Venuses.  There were the Medicean Venus, and the Bathing Venus; the
+Uranian Venus, and the Pandemian Venus; the Crouching Venus, and
+the Sleeping Venus; the Venus rising from the sea, the Venus with
+the apple of Paris, and the Venus with the armour of Mars.
+
+The Reverend Doctor Folliott had been very much astonished at this
+unexpected display.  Disposed, as he was, to hold, that whatever
+had been in Greece, was right; he was more than doubtful of the
+propriety of throwing open the classical adytum to the illiterate
+profane.  Whether, in his interior mind, he was at all influenced,
+either by the consideration that it would be for the credit of his
+cloth, with some of his vice-suppressing neighbours, to be able to
+say that he had expostulated; or by curiosity, to try what sort of
+defence his city-bred friend, who knew the classics only by
+translations, and whose reason was always a little ahead of his
+knowledge, would make for his somewhat ostentatious display of
+liberality in matters of taste; is a question on which the learned
+may differ:  but, after having duly deliberated on two full-sized
+casts of the Uranian and Pandemian Venus, in niches on each side of
+the chimney, and on three alabaster figures, in glass cases, on the
+mantelpiece, he proceeded, peirastically, to open his fire.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  These little alabaster figures on the
+mantelpiece, Mr. Crotchet, and those large figures in the niches--
+may I take the liberty to ask you what they are intended to
+represent?
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Venus, sir; nothing more, sir; just Venus.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  May I ask you, sir, why they are there?
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  To be looked at, sir; just to be looked at:  the
+reasons for most things in a gentleman's house being in it at all;
+from the paper on the walls, and the drapery of the curtains, even
+to the books in the library, of which the most essential part is
+the appearance of the back.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Very true, sir.  As great philosophers hold
+that the esse of things is percipi, so a gentleman's furniture
+exists to be looked at.  Nevertheless, sir, there are some things
+more fit to be looked at than others; for instance, there is
+nothing more fit to be looked at than the outside of a book.  It
+is, as I may say, from repeated experience, a pure and unmixed
+pleasure to have a goodly volume lying before you, and to know that
+you may open it if you please, and need not open it unless you
+please.  It is a resource against ennui, if ennui should come upon
+you.  To have the resource and not to feel the ennui, to enjoy your
+bottle in the present, and your book in the indefinite future, is a
+delightful condition of human existence.  There is no place, in
+which a man can move or sit, in which the outside of a book can be
+otherwise than an innocent and becoming spectacle.  Touching this
+matter, there cannot, I think, be two opinions.  But with respect
+to your Venuses there can be, and indeed there are, two very
+distinct opinions.  Now, Sir, that little figure in the centre of
+the mantelpiece--as a grave paterfamilias, Mr. Crotchet, with a
+fair nubile daughter, whose eyes are like the fish-pools of
+Heshbon--I would ask you if you hold that figure to be altogether
+delicate?
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  The sleeping Venus, sir?  Nothing can be more
+delicate than the entire contour of the figure, the flow of the
+hair on the shoulders and neck, the form of the feet and fingers.
+It is altogether a most delicate morsel.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Why, in that sense, perhaps, it is as delicate
+as whitebait in July.  But the attitude, sir, the attitude.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Nothing can be more natural, sir.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  That is the very thing, sir.  It is too
+natural:  too natural, sir:  it lies for all the world like--I make
+no doubt, the pious cheesemonger, who recently broke its plaster
+facsimile over the head of the itinerant vendor, was struck by a
+certain similitude to the position of his own sleeping beauty, and
+felt his noble wrath thereby justly aroused.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Very likely, sir.  In my opinion, the cheesemonger
+was a fool, and the justice who sided with him was a greater.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Fool, sir, is a harsh term:  call not thy
+brother a fool.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Sir, neither the cheesemonger nor the justice is a
+brother of mine.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, we are all brethren.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Yes, sir, as the hangman is of the thief; the squire
+of the poacher; the judge of the libeller; the lawyer of his
+client; the statesman of his colleague; the bubble-blower of the
+bubble-buyer; the slave-driver of the negro; as these are brethren,
+so am I and the worthies in question
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  To be sure, sir, in these instances, and in
+many others, the term brother must be taken in its utmost latitude
+of interpretation:  we are all brothers, nevertheless.  But to
+return to the point.  Now these two large figures, one with drapery
+on the lower half of the body, and the other with no drapery at
+all; upon my word, sir, it matters not what godfathers and
+godmothers may have promised and vowed for the children of this
+world, touching the devil and other things to be renounced, if such
+figures as those are to be put before their eyes.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Sir, the naked figure is the Pandemian Venus, and
+the half-draped figure is the Uranian Venus; and I say, sir, that
+figure realises the finest imaginings of Plato, and is the
+personification of the most refined and exalted feeling of which
+the human mind is susceptible; the love of pure, ideal,
+intellectual beauty.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I am aware, sir, that Plato, in his Symposium,
+discourseth very eloquently touching the Uranian and Pandemian
+Venus:  but you must remember that, in our universities, Plato is
+held to be little better than a misleader of youth; and they have
+shown their contempt for him, not only by never reading him (a mode
+of contempt in which they deal very largely), but even by never
+printing a complete edition of him; although they have printed many
+ancient books, which nobody suspects to have been ever read on the
+spot, except by a person attached to the press, who is, therefore,
+emphatically called "the reader."
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Well, sir?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Why, sir, to "the reader" aforesaid (supposing
+either of our universities to have printed an edition of Plato), or
+to any one else who can be supposed to have read Plato, or, indeed,
+to be ever likely to do so, I would very willingly show these
+figures; because to such they would, I grant you, be the outward
+and visible signs of poetical and philosophical ideas:  but, to the
+multitude, the gross, carnal multitude, they are but two beautiful
+women, one half undressed, and the other quite so.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Then, sir, let the multitude look upon them and
+learn modesty.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I must say that, if I wished my footman to
+learn modesty, I should not dream of sending him to school to a
+naked Venus.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Sir, ancient sculpture is the true school of
+modesty.  But where the Greeks had modesty, we have cant; where
+they had poetry, we have cant; where they had patriotism, we have
+cant; where they had anything that exalts, delights, or adorns
+humanity, we have nothing but cant, cant, cant.  And, sir, to show
+my contempt for cant in all its shapes, I have adorned my house
+with the Greek Venus, in all her shapes, and am ready to fight her
+battle against all the societies that ever were instituted for the
+suppression of truth and beauty.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  My dear sir, I am afraid you are growing warm.
+Pray be cool.  Nothing contributes so much to good digestion as to
+be perfectly cool after dinner.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Sir, the Lacedaemonian virgins wrestled naked with
+young men; and they grew up, as the wise Lycurgus had foreseen,
+into the most modest of women, and the most exemplary of wives and
+mothers.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Very likely, sir; but the Athenian virgins did
+no such thing, and they grew up into wives who stayed at home--
+stayed at home, sir; and looked after their husbands' dinner--his
+dinner, sir, you will please to observe.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  And what was the consequence of that, sir? that they
+were such very insipid persons that the husband would not go home
+to eat his dinner, but preferred the company of some Aspasia, or
+Lais.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Two very different persons, sir, give me leave
+to remark.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Very likely, sir; but both too good to be married in
+Athens.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, Lais was a Corinthian.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Od's vengeance, sir, some Aspasia and any other
+Athenian name of the same sort of person you like -
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I do not like the sort of person at all:  the
+sort of person I like, as I have already implied, is a modest
+woman, who stays at home and looks after her husband's dinner.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Well, sir, that was not the taste of the Athenians.
+They preferred the society of women who would not have made any
+scruple about sitting as models to Praxiteles; as you know, sir,
+very modest women in Italy did to Canova; one of whom, an Italian
+countess, being asked by an English lady, "how she could bear it?"
+answered, "Very well; there was a good fire in the room."
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, the English lady should have asked how the
+Italian lady's husband could bear it.  The phials of my wrath would
+overflow if poor dear Mrs. Folliott -:  sir, in return for your
+story, I will tell you a story of my ancestor, Gilbert Folliott.
+The devil haunted him, as he did Saint Francis, in the likeness of
+a beautiful damsel; but all he could get from the exemplary Gilbert
+was an admonition to wear a stomacher and longer petticoats.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Sir, your story makes for my side of the question.
+It proves that the devil, in the likeness of a fair damsel, with
+short petticoats and no stomacher, was almost too much for Gilbert
+Folliott.  The force of the spell was in the drapery.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Bless my soul, sir!
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Give me leave, sir.  Diderot -
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Who was he, sir?
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Who was he, sir? the sublime philosopher, the father
+of the Encyclopaedia, of all the encyclopaedias that have ever been
+printed.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Bless me, sir, a terrible progeny:  they belong
+to the tribe of Incubi.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  The great philosopher, Diderot -
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, Diderot is not a man after my heart.  Keep
+to the Greeks, if you please; albeit this Sleeping Venus is not an
+antique.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Well, sir, the Greeks:  why do we call the Elgin
+marbles inestimable?  Simply because they are true to nature.  And
+why are they so superior in that point to all modern works, with
+all our greater knowledge of anatomy?  Why, sir, but because the
+Greeks, having no cant, had better opportunities of studying
+models?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, I deny our greater knowledge of anatomy.
+But I shall take the liberty to employ, on this occasion, the
+argumentum ad hominem.  Would you have allowed Miss Crotchet to sit
+for a model to Canova?
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Yes, sir.
+
+"God bless my soul, sir!" exclaimed the Reverend Doctor Folliott,
+throwing himself back into a chair, and flinging up his heels, with
+the premeditated design of giving emphasis to his exclamation; but
+by miscalculating his impetus, he overbalanced his chair, and laid
+himself on the carpet in a right angle, of which his back was the
+base.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII:  SCIENCE AND CHARITY
+
+
+
+Chi sta nel mondo un par d'ore contento,
+Ne gli vien tolta, ovver contaminata,
+Quella sua pace in veruno momento,
+Puo dir che Giove drittamente il guata.
+FORTEGUERRI.
+
+The Reverend Doctor Folliott took his departure about ten o'clock,
+to walk home to his vicarage.  There was no moon, but the night was
+bright and clear, and afforded him as much light as he needed.  He
+paused a moment by the Roman camp to listen to the nightingale;
+repeated to himself a passage of Sophocles; proceeded through the
+park gate, and entered the narrow lane that led to the village.  He
+walked on in a very pleasant mood of the state called reverie; in
+which fish and wine, Greek and political economy, the Sleeping
+Venus he had left behind, and poor dear Mrs. Folliott, to whose
+fond arms he was returning, passed, as in a camera obscura, over
+the tablets of his imagination.  Presently the image of Mr.
+Eavesdrop, with a printed sketch of the Reverend Doctor F.,
+presented itself before him, and he began mechanically to flourish
+his bamboo.  The movement was prompted by his good genius, for the
+uplifted bamboo received the blow of a ponderous cudgel, which was
+intended for his head.  The reverend gentleman recoiled two or
+three paces, and saw before him a couple of ruffians, who were
+preparing to renew the attack, but whom, with two swings of his
+bamboo, he laid with cracked sconces on the earth, where he
+proceeded to deal with them like corn beneath the flail of the
+thresher.  One of them drew a pistol, which went off in the very
+act of being struck aside by the bamboo, and lodged a bullet in the
+brain of the other.  There was then only one enemy, who vainly
+struggled to rise, every effort being attended with a new and more
+signal prostration.  The fellow roared for mercy.  "Mercy, rascal!"
+cried the divine; "what mercy were you going to show me, villain?
+What!  I warrant me, you thought it would be an easy matter, and no
+sin, to rob and murder a parson on his way home from dinner.  You
+said to yourself, doubtless, "We'll waylay the fat parson (you
+irreverent knave), as he waddles home (you disparaging ruffian),
+half-seas-over, (you calumnious vagabond)."  And with every
+dyslogistic term, which he supposed had been applied to himself, he
+inflicted a new bruise on his rolling and roaring antagonist.  "Ah,
+rogue!" he proceeded, "you can roar now, marauder; you were silent
+enough when you devoted my brains to dispersion under your cudgel.
+But seeing that I cannot bind you, and that I intend you not to
+escape, and that it would be dangerous to let you rise, I will
+disable you in all your members.  I will contund you as Thestylis
+did strong smelling herbs, in the quality whereof you do most
+gravely partake, as my nose beareth testimony, ill weed that you
+are.  I will beat you to a jelly, and I will then roll you into the
+ditch, to lie till the constable comes for you, thief."
+
+"Hold! hold! reverend sir," exclaimed the penitent culprit, "I am
+disabled already in every finger, and in every joint.  I will roll
+myself into the ditch, reverend sir."
+
+"Stir not, rascal," returned the divine, "stir not so much as the
+quietest leaf above you, or my bamboo rebounds on your body, like
+hail in a thunder-storm.  Confess, speedily, villain; are you a
+simple thief, or would you have manufactured me into a subject for
+the benefit of science?  Ay, miscreant caitiff, you would have made
+me a subject for science, would you?  You are a school-master
+abroad, are you?  You are marching with a detachment of the march
+of mind, are you?  You are a member of the Steam Intellect Society,
+are you?  You swear by the learned friend, do you?"
+
+"Oh, no! reverend sir," answered the criminal, "I am innocent of
+all these offences, whatever they are, reverend sir.  The only
+friend I had in the world is lying dead beside me, reverend sir."
+
+The reverend gentleman paused a moment, and leaned on his bamboo.
+The culprit, bruised as he was, sprang on his legs, and went off in
+double quick time.  The Doctor gave him chase, and had nearly
+brought him within arm's length, when the fellow turned at right
+angles, and sprang clean over a deep dry ditch.  The divine,
+following with equal ardour, and less dexterity, went down over
+head and ears into a thicket of nettles.  Emerging with much
+discomposure, he proceeded to the village, and roused the
+constable; but the constable found, on reaching the scene of
+action, that the dead man was gone, as well as his living
+accomplice.
+
+"Oh, the monster!" exclaimed the Reverend Doctor Folliott, "he has
+made a subject for science of the only friend he had in the world."
+"Ay, my dear," he resumed, the next morning at breakfast, "if my
+old reading, and my early gymnastics (for, as the great Hermann
+says, before I was demulced by the Muses, I was ferocis ingenii
+puer, et ad arma quam ad literas paratior), had not imbued me
+indelibly with some of the holy rage of Frere Jean des Entommeures,
+I should be, at this moment, lying on the table of some flinty-
+hearted anatomist, who would have sliced and disjointed me as
+unscrupulously as I do these remnants of the capon and chine,
+wherewith you consoled yourself yesterday for my absence at dinner.
+Phew! I have a noble thirst upon me, which I will quench with
+floods of tea."
+
+The reverend gentleman was interrupted by a messenger, who informed
+him that the Charity Commissioners requested his presence at the
+inn, where they were holding a sitting.
+
+"The Charity Commissioners!" exclaimed the reverend gentleman, "who
+on earth are they?"
+
+The messenger could not inform him, and the reverend gentleman took
+his hat and stick, and proceeded to the inn.
+
+On entering the best parlour, he saw three well-dressed and bulky
+gentlemen sitting at a table, and a fourth officiating as clerk,
+with an open book before him, and a pen in his hand.  The church-
+wardens, who had been also summoned, were already in attendance.
+
+The chief commissioner politely requested the Reverend Doctor
+Folliott to be seated, and after the usual meteorological
+preliminaries had been settled by a resolution, nem. con., that it
+was a fine day but very hot, the chief commissioner stated, that in
+virtue of the commission of Parliament, which they had the honour
+to hold, they were now to inquire into the state of the public
+charities of this village.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  The state of the public charities, sir, is
+exceedingly simple.  There are none.  The charities here are all
+private, and so private, that I for one know nothing of them.
+
+FIRST COMMISSIONER.  We have been informed, sir, that there is an
+annual rent charged on the land of Hautbois, for the endowment and
+repair of an almshouse.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Hautbois! Hautbois!
+
+FIRST COMMISSIONER.  The manorial farm of Hautbois, now occupied by
+Farmer Seedling, is charged with the endowment and maintenance of
+an almshouse.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT (to the Churchwarden).  How is this, Mr.
+Bluenose?
+
+FIRST CHURCHWARDEN.  I really do not know, sir.  What say you, Mr.
+Appletwig?
+
+MR. APPLETWIG (parish clerk and schoolmaster; an old man).  I do
+remember, gentlemen, to have been informed, that there did stand,
+at the end of the village, a ruined cottage, which had once been an
+almshouse, which was endowed and maintained, by an annual revenue
+of a mark and a half, or one pound sterling, charged some centuries
+ago on the farm of Hautbois; but the means, by the progress of
+time, having become inadequate to the end, the almshouse tumbled to
+pieces.
+
+FIRST COMMISSIONER.  But this is a right which cannot be abrogated
+by desuetude, and the sum of one pound per annum is still
+chargeable for charitable purposes on the manorial farm of
+Hautbois.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Very well, sir.
+
+MR. APPLETWIG.  But, sir, the one pound per annum is still received
+by the parish, but was long ago, by an unanimous vote in open
+vestry, given to the minister.
+
+THE THREE COMMISSIONERS (una voce).  The minister!
+
+FIRST COMMISSIONER.  This is an unjustifiable proceeding.
+
+SECOND COMMISSIONER.  A misappropriation of a public fund.
+
+THIRD COMMISSIONER.  A flagrant perversion of a charitable
+donation.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  God bless my soul, gentlemen!  I know nothing
+of this matter.  How is this, Mr. Bluenose?  Do I receive this one
+pound per annum?
+
+FIRST CHURCHWARDEN.  Really, sir, I know no more about it than you
+do.
+
+MR. APPLETWIG.  You certainly receive it, sir.  It was voted to one
+of your predecessors.  Farmer Seedling lumps it in with his tithes.
+
+FIRST COMMISSIONER.  Lumps it in, sir!  Lump in a charitable
+donation!
+
+SECOND AND THIRD COMMISSIONER.  Oh-oh-oh-h-h!
+
+FIRST COMMISSIONER.  Reverend sir, and gentlemen, officers of this
+parish, we are under the necessity of admonishing you that this is
+a most improper proceeding:  and you are hereby duly admonished
+accordingly.  Make a record, Mr. Milky.
+
+MR. MILKY (writing).  The clergyman and church-wardens of the
+village of Hm-ra-m-m- gravely admonished.  Hm-m-m-m.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Is that all, gentlemen?
+
+THE COMMISSIONERS.  That is all, sir; and we wish you a good
+morning.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  A very good morning to you, gentlemen.
+
+"What in the name of all that is wonderful, Mr. Bluenose," said the
+Reverend Doctor Folliott, as he walked out of the inn, "what in the
+name of all that is wonderful, can those fellows mean?  They have
+come here in a chaise and four, to make a fuss about a pound per
+annum, which, after all, they leave as it was:  I wonder who pays
+them for their trouble, and how much."
+
+MR. APPLETWIG.  The public pay for it, sir.  It is a job of the
+learned friend whom you admire so much.  It makes away with public
+money in salaries, and private money in lawsuits, and does no
+particle of good to any living soul.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Ay, ay, Mr. Appletwig; that is just the sort of
+public service to be looked for from the learned friend.  Oh, the
+learned friend! the learned friend!  He is the evil genius of
+everything that falls in his way.
+
+The Reverend Doctor walked off to Crotchet Castle, to narrate his
+misadventures, and exhale his budget of grievances on Mr. Mac
+Quedy, whom he considered a ringleader of the march of mind.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX:  THE VOYAGE
+
+
+
+[Greek text]
+Mounting the bark, they cleft the watery ways.--Homer.
+
+Four beautiful cabined pinnaces, one for the ladies, one for the
+gentlemen, one for kitchen and servants, one for a dining-room and
+band of music, weighed anchor, on a fine July morning, from below
+Crotchet Castle, and were towed merrily, by strong trotting horses,
+against the stream of the Thames.  They passed from the district of
+chalk, successively into the districts of clay, of sand-rock, of
+oolite, and so forth.  Sometimes they dined in their floating
+dining-room, sometimes in tents, which they pitched on the dry,
+smooth-shaven green of a newly-mown meadow:  sometimes they left
+their vessels to see sights in the vicinity; sometimes they passed
+a day or two in a comfortable inn.
+
+At Oxford, they walked about to see the curiosities of
+architecture, painted windows, and undisturbed libraries.  The
+Reverend Doctor Folliott laid a wager with Mr. Crotchet "that in
+all their perlustrations they would not find a man reading," and
+won it.  "Ay," said the reverend gentleman, "this is still a seat
+of learning, on the principle of--once a captain, always a captain.
+We may well ask, in these great reservoirs of books whereof no man
+ever draws a sluice, Quorsum pertinuit stipere Platona Menandro?
+What is done here for the classics?  Reprinting German editions on
+better paper.  A great boast, verily!  What for mathematics?  What
+for metaphysics?  What for history?  What for anything worth
+knowing?  This was a seat of learning in the days of Friar Bacon.
+But the Friar is gone, and his learning with him.  Nothing of him
+is left but the immortal nose, which, when his brazen head had
+tumbled to pieces, crying "Time's Past," was the only palpable
+fragment among its minutely pulverised atoms, and which is still
+resplendent over the portals of its cognominal college.  That nose,
+sir, is the only thing to which I shall take off my hat, in all
+this Babylon of buried literature.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  But, doctor, it is something to have a great
+reservoir of learning, at which some may draw if they please.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  But, here, good care is taken that nobody shall
+please.  If even a small drop from the sacred fountain, [Greek
+text], as Callimachus has it, were carried off by any one, it would
+be evidence of something to hope for.  But the system of dissuasion
+from all good learning is brought here to a pitch of perfection
+that baffles the keenest aspirant.  I run over to myself the names
+of the scholars of Germany, a glorious catalogue:  but ask for
+those of Oxford,--Where are they?  The echoes of their courts, as
+vacant as their heads, will answer, Where are they?  The tree shall
+be known by its fruit:  and seeing that this great tree, with all
+its specious seeming, brings forth no fruit, I do denounce it as a
+barren fig.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  I shall set you right on this point.  We do nothing
+without motives.  If learning get nothing but honour, and very
+little of that; and if the good things of this world, which ought
+to be the rewards of learning, become the mere gifts of self-
+interested patronage; you must not wonder if, in the finishing of
+education, the science which takes precedence of all others, should
+be the science of currying favour.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Very true, sir.  Education is well finished,
+for all worldly purposes, when the head is brought into the state
+whereinto I am accustomed to bring a marrow-bone, when it has been
+set before me on a toast, with a white napkin wrapped round it.
+Nothing trundles along the high road of preferment so trimly as a
+well-biassed sconce, picked clean within and polished without;
+totus teres atque rotundus.  The perfection of the finishing lies
+in the bias, which keeps it trundling in the given direction.
+There is good and sufficient reason for the fig being barren, but
+it is not therefore the less a barren fig.
+
+At Godstow, they gathered hazel on the grave of Rosamond; and,
+proceeding on their voyage, fell into a discussion on legendary
+histories.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  History is but a tiresome thing in itself:  it
+becomes more agreeable the more romance is mixed up with it.  The
+great enchanter has made me learn many things which I should never
+have dreamed of studying, if they had not come to me in the form of
+amusement.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  What enchanter is that?  There are two
+enchanters:  he of the north, and he of the south.
+
+MR. TRILLO.  Rossini!
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Ay, there is another enchanter.  But I mean the
+great enchanter of Covent Garden:  he who, for more than a quarter
+of a century, has produced two pantomimes a year, to the delight of
+children of all ages; including myself at all ages.  That is the
+enchanter for me.  I am for the pantomimes.  All the northern
+enchanter's romances put together would not furnish materials for
+half the Southern enchanter's pantomimes.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Surely you do not class literature with pantomime?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  In these cases, I do.  They are both one, with
+a slight difference.  The one is the literature of pantomime, the
+other is the pantomime of literature.  There is the same variety of
+character, the same diversity of story, the same copiousness of
+incident, the same research into costume, the same display of
+heraldry, falconry, minstrelsy, scenery, monkery, witchery,
+devilry, robbery, poachery, piracy, fishery, gipsy-astrology,
+demonology, architecture, fortification, castrametation,
+navigation; the same running base of love and battle.  The main
+difference is, that the one set of amusing fictions is told in
+music and action; the other in all the worst dialects of the
+English language.  As to any sentence worth remembering, any moral
+or political truth, anything having a tendency, however remote, to
+make men wiser or better, to make them think, to make them ever
+think of thinking; they are both precisely alike nuspiam,
+nequaquam, nullibi, nullimodis.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Very amusing, however.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Very amusing, very amusing.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  My quarrel with the northern enchanter is, that he
+has grossly misrepresented the twelfth century.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  He has misrepresented everything, or he would
+not have been very amusing.  Sober truth is but dull matter to the
+reading rabble.  The angler, who puts not on his hook the bait that
+best pleases the fish, may sit all day on the bank without catching
+a gudgeon.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  But how do you mean that he has misrepresented the
+twelfth century?  By exhibiting some of its knights and ladies in
+the colours of refinement and virtue, seeing that they were all no
+better than ruffians, and something else that shall be nameless?
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  By no means.  By depicting them as much worse than
+they were, not, as you suppose, much better.  No one would infer
+from his pictures that theirs was a much better state of society
+than this which we live in.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  No, nor was it.  It was a period of brutality,
+ignorance, fanaticism, and tyranny; when the land was covered with
+castles, and every castle contained a gang of banditti, headed by a
+titled robber, who levied contributions with fire and sword;
+plundering, torturing, ravishing, burying his captives in loathsome
+dungeons, and broiling them on gridirons, to force from them the
+surrender of every particle of treasure which he suspected them of
+possessing; and fighting every now and then with the neighbouring
+lords, his conterminal bandits, for the right of marauding on the
+boundaries.  This was the twelfth century, as depicted by all
+contemporary historians and poets.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  No, sir.  Weigh the evidence of specific facts; you
+will find more good than evil.  Who was England's greatest hero--
+the mirror of chivalry, the pattern of honour, the fountain of
+generosity, the model to all succeeding ages of military glory?
+Richard the First.  There is a king of the twelfth century.  What
+was the first step of liberty?  Magna Charta.  That was the best
+thing ever done by lords.  There are lords of the twelfth century.
+You must remember, too, that these lords were petty princes, and
+made war on each other as legitimately as the heads of larger
+communities did or do.  For their system of revenue, it was, to be
+sure, more rough and summary than that which has succeeded it, but
+it was certainly less searching and less productive.  And as to the
+people, I content myself with these great points:  that every man
+was armed, every man was a good archer, every man could and would
+fight effectively, with sword or pike, or even with oaken cudgel;
+no man would live quietly without beef and ale if he had them not;
+he fought till he either got them, or was put out of condition to
+want them.  They were not, and could not be, subjected to that
+powerful pressure of all the other classes of society, combined by
+gunpowder, steam, and fiscality, which has brought them to that
+dismal degradation in which we see them now.  And there are the
+people of the twelfth century.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  As to your king, the enchanter has done him ample
+justice, even in your own view.  As to your lords and their ladies,
+he has drawn them too favourably, given them too many of the false
+colours of chivalry, thrown too attractive a light on their
+abominable doings.  As to the people, he keeps them so much in the
+background, that he can hardly be said to have represented them at
+all, much less misrepresented them, which indeed he could scarcely
+do, seeing that, by your own showing, they were all thieves, ready
+to knock down any man for what they could not come by honestly.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  No, sir.  They could come honestly by beef and ale,
+while they were left to their simple industry.  When oppression
+interfered with them in that, then they stood on the defensive, and
+fought for what they were not permitted to come by quietly.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  If A., being aggrieved by B., knocks down C., do
+you call that standing on the defensive?
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  That depends on who or what C. is.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Gentlemen, you will never settle this
+controversy till you have first settled what is good for man in
+this world; the great question, de finibus, which has puzzled all
+philosophers.  If the enchanter has represented the twelfth century
+too brightly for one, and too darkly for the other of you, I should
+say, as an impartial man, he has represented it fairly.  My quarrel
+with him is, that his works contain nothing worth quoting; and a
+book that furnishes no quotations, is me judice, no book--it is a
+plaything.  There is no question about the amusement,--amusement of
+multitudes; but if he who amuses us most is to be our enchanter
+[Greek text], then my enchanter is the enchanter of Covent Garden.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X:  THE VOYAGE, CONTINUED
+
+
+
+Continuant nostre routte, navigasmes par trois jours sans rien
+descouvrir.--RABELAIS.
+
+"There is a beautiful structure," said Mr. Chainmail, as they
+glided by Lechlade church; "a subject for the pencil, Captain.  It
+is a question worth asking, Mr. Mac Quedy, whether the religious
+spirit which reared these edifices, and connected with them
+everywhere an asylum for misfortune, and a provision for poverty,
+was not better than the commercial spirit, which has turned all the
+business of modern life into schemes of profit and processes of
+fraud and extortion.  I do not see, in all your boasted
+improvements, any compensation for the religious charity of the
+twelfth century.  I do not see any compensation for that kindly
+feeling which, within their own little communities, bound the
+several classes of society together, while full scope was left for
+the development of natural character, wherein individuals differed
+as conspicuously as in costume.  Now, we all wear one conventional
+dress, one conventional face; we have no bond of union but
+pecuniary interest; we talk anything that comes uppermost for
+talking's sake, and without expecting to be believed; we have no
+nature, no simplicity, no picturesqueness:  everything about us is
+as artificial and as complicated as our steam-machinery:  our
+poetry is a kaleidoscope of false imagery, expressing no real
+feeling, portraying no real existence.  I do not see any
+compensation for the poetry of the twelfth century."
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  I wonder to hear you, Mr. Chainmail, talking of the
+religious charity of a set of lazy monks and beggarly friars, who
+were much more occupied with taking than giving; of whom those who
+were in earnest did nothing but make themselves and everybody about
+them miserable with fastings and penances, and other such trash;
+and those who were not, did nothing but guzzle and royster, and,
+having no wives of their own, took very unbecoming liberties with
+those of honester men.  And as to your poetry of the twelfth
+century, it is not good for much.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  It has, at any rate, what ours wants, truth to
+nature and simplicity of diction.
+
+The poetry, which was addressed to the people of the dark ages,
+pleased in proportion to the truth with which it depicted familiar
+images, and to their natural connection with the time and place to
+which they were assigned.  In the poetry of our enlightened times,
+the characteristics of all seasons, soils, and climates may be
+blended together with much benefit to the author's fame as an
+original genius.  The cowslip of a civic poet is always in blossom,
+his fern is always in full feather; he gathers the celandine, the
+primrose, the heath-flower, the jasmine, and the chrysanthemum all
+on the same day and from the same spot; his nightingale sings all
+the year round, his moon is always full, his cygnet is as white as
+his swan, his cedar is as tremulous as his aspen, and his poplar as
+embowering as his beech.  Thus all nature marches with the march of
+mind; but among barbarians, instead of mead and wine, and the best
+seat by the fire, the reward of such a genius would have been to be
+summarily turned out of doors in the snow, to meditate on the
+difference between day and night and between December and July.  It
+is an age of liberality, indeed, when not to know an oak from a
+burdock is no disqualification for sylvan minstrelsy.  I am for
+truth and simplicity.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.--Let him who loves them read Greek:  Greek,
+Greek, Greek.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.--If he can, sir.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.--Very true, sir; if he can.  Here is the Captain
+who can.  But I think he must have finished his education at some
+very rigid college, where a quotation or any other overt act
+showing acquaintance with classical literature was visited with a
+severe penalty.  For my part, I make it my boast that I was not to
+be so subdued.  I could not be abated of a single quotation by all
+the bumpers in which I was fined.
+
+In this manner they glided over the face of the waters, discussing
+everything and settling nothing.  Mr. Mac Quedy and the Reverend
+Doctor Folliott had many digladiations on political economy:
+wherein, each in his own view, Doctor Folliott demolished Mr. Mac
+Quedy's science, and Mr. Mac Quedy demolished Dr. Folliott's
+objections.
+
+We would print these dialogues if we thought anyone would read
+them; but the world is not yet ripe for this haute sagesse
+Pantagrueline.  We must therefore content ourselves with an
+echantillon of one of the Reverend Doctor's perorations.
+
+"You have given the name of a science to what is yet an imperfect
+inquiry, and the upshot of your so-called science is this:  that
+you increase the wealth of a nation by increasing in it the
+quantity of things which are produced by labour:  no matter what
+they are, no matter how produced, no matter how distributed.  The
+greater the quantity of labour that has gone to the production of
+the quantity of things in a community, the richer is the community.
+That is your doctrine.  Now, I say, if this be so, riches are not
+the object for a community to aim at.  I say the nation is best
+off, in relation to other nations, which has the greatest quantity
+of the common necessaries of life distributed among the greatest
+number of persons; which has the greatest number of honest hearts
+and stout arms united in a common interest, willing to offend no
+one, but ready to fight in defence of their own community against
+all the rest of the world, because they have something in it worth
+fighting for.  The moment you admit that one class of things,
+without any reference to what they respectively cost, is better
+worth having than another; that a smaller commercial value, with
+one mode of distribution, is better than a greater commercial
+value, with another mode of distribution; the whole of that curious
+fabric of postulates and dogmas, which you call the science of
+political economy, and which I call politicae aeconomiae
+inscientia, tumbles to pieces."
+
+Mr. Toogood agreed with Mr. Chainmail against Mr. Mac Quedy, that
+the existing state of society was worse than that of the twelfth
+century; but he agreed with Mr. Mac Quedy against Mr. Chainmail,
+that it was in progress to something much better than either--to
+which "something much better" Mr. Toogood and Mr. Mac Quedy
+attached two very different meanings.
+
+Mr. Chainmail fought with Doctor Folliott, the battle of the
+romantic against the classical in poetry; and Mr. Skionar contended
+with Mr. Mac Quedy for intuition and synthesis, against analysis
+and induction in philosophy.
+
+Mr. Philpot would lie along for hours, listening to the gurgling of
+the water round the prow, and would occasionally edify the company
+with speculations on the great changes that would be effected in
+the world by the steam-navigation of rivers:  sketching the course
+of a steamboat up and down some mighty stream which civilisation
+had either never visited, or long since deserted; the Missouri and
+the Columbia, the Oroonoko and the Amazon, the Nile and the Niger,
+the Euphrates and the Tigris, the Oxus and the Indus, the Ganges
+and the Hoangho; under the over canopying forests of the new, or by
+the long-silent ruins of the ancient, world; through the shapeless
+mounds of Babylon, or the gigantic temples of Thebes.
+
+Mr. Trillo went on with the composition of his opera, and took the
+opinions of the young ladies on every step in its progress;
+occasionally regaling the company with specimens; and wondering at
+the blindness of Mr. Mac Quedy, who could not, or would not, see
+that an opera in perfection, being the union of all the beautiful
+arts--music, painting, dancing, poetry--exhibiting female beauty in
+its most attractive aspects, and in its most becoming costume--was,
+according to the well-known precept, Ingenuas didicisse, etc., the
+most efficient instrument of civilisation, and ought to take
+precedence of all other pursuits in the minds of true
+philanthropists.  The Reverend Doctor Folliott, on these occasions,
+never failed to say a word or two on Mr. Trillo's side, derived
+from the practice of the Athenians, and from the combination, in
+their theatre, of all the beautiful arts, in a degree of perfection
+unknown to the modern world.
+
+Leaving Lechlade, they entered the canal that connects the Thames
+with the Severn; ascended by many locks; passed by a tunnel, three
+miles long, through the bowels of Sapperton Hill; agreed
+unanimously that the greatest pleasure derivable from visiting a
+cavern of any sort was that of getting out of it; descended by many
+locks again through the valley of Stroud into the Severn; continued
+their navigation into the Ellesmere canal; moored their pinnaces in
+the Vale of Llangollen by the aqueduct of Pontycysyllty; and
+determined to pass some days in inspecting the scenery, before
+commencing their homeward voyage.
+
+The Captain omitted no opportunity of pressing his suit on Lady
+Clarinda, but could never draw from her any reply but the same
+doctrines of worldly wisdom, delivered in a tone of badinage, mixed
+with a certain kindness of manner that induced him to hope she was
+not in earnest.
+
+But the morning after they had anchored under the hills of the Dee-
+-whether the lady had reflected more seriously than usual, or was
+somewhat less in good humour than usual, or the Captain was more
+pressing than usual--she said to him:  "It must not be, Captain
+Fitzchrome; 'the course of true love never did run smooth:' my
+father must keep his borough, and I must have a town house and a
+country house, and an opera box, and a carriage.  It is not well
+for either of us that we should flirt any longer:  'I must be cruel
+only to be kind.'  Be satisfied with the assurance that you alone,
+of all men, have ever broken my rest.  To be sure, it was only for
+about three nights in all; but that is too much."
+
+The Captain had le coeur navre.  He took his portfolio under his
+arm, made up the little valise of a pedestrian, and, without saying
+a word to anyone, wandered off at random among the mountains.
+
+After the lapse of a day or two, the Captain was missed, and
+everyone marvelled what was become of him.  Mr. Philpot thought he
+must have been exploring a river, and fallen in and got drowned in
+the process.  Mr. Firedamp had no doubt he had been crossing a
+mountain bog, and had been suddenly deprived of life by the
+exhalations of marsh miasmata.  Mr. Henbane deemed it probable that
+he had been tempted in some wood by the large black brilliant
+berries of the Atropa Belladonna, or Deadly Nightshade; and
+lamented that he had not been by, to administer an infallible
+antidote.  Mr. Eavesdrop hoped the particulars of his fate would be
+ascertained; and asked if anyone present could help him to any
+authentic anecdotes of their departed friend.  The Reverend Doctor
+Folliott proposed that an inquiry should be instituted as to
+whether the march of intellect had reached that neighbourhood, as,
+if so, the Captain had probably been made a subject for science.
+Mr. Mac Quedy said it was no such great matter to ascertain the
+precise mode in which the surplus population was diminished by one.
+Mr. Toogood asseverated that there was no such thing as surplus
+population, and that the land, properly managed, would maintain
+twenty times its present inhabitants; and hereupon they fell into a
+disputation.
+
+Lady Clarinda did not doubt that the Captain had gone away
+designedly; she missed him more than she could have anticipated,
+and wished she had at least postponed her last piece of cruelty
+till the completion of their homeward voyage.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI:  CORRESPONDENCE
+
+
+
+"Base is the slave that pays."--ANCIENT PISTOL.
+
+The Captain was neither drowned nor poisoned, neither miasmatised
+nor anatomised.  But, before we proceed to account for him, we must
+look back to a young lady, of whom some little notice was taken in
+the first chapter; and who, though she has since been out of sight,
+has never with us been out of mind:  Miss Susannah Touchandgo, the
+forsaken of the junior Crotchet, whom we left an inmate of a
+solitary farm, in one of the deep valleys under the cloud-capt
+summits of Meirion, comforting her wounded spirit with air and
+exercise, rustic cheer, music, painting, and poetry, and the
+prattle of the little Ap Llymrys.
+
+One evening, after an interval of anxious expectation, the farmer,
+returning from market brought for her two letters, of which the
+contents were these:
+
+
+"Dotandcarryonetown, State of Apodidraskiana.
+"April 1, 18..
+
+My Dear Child,
+
+"I am anxious to learn what are your present position, intention,
+and prospects.  The fairies who dropped gold in your shoe, on the
+morning when I ceased to be a respectable man in London, will soon
+find a talismanic channel for transmitting you a stocking full of
+dollars, which will fit the shoe as well as the foot of Cinderella
+fitted her slipper.  I am happy to say I am again become a
+respectable man.  It was always my ambition to be a respectable
+man, and I am a very respectable man here, in this new township of
+a new state, where I have purchased five thousand acres of land, at
+two dollars an acre, hard cash, and established a very flourishing
+bank.  The notes of Touchandgo and Company, soft cash, are now the
+exclusive currency of all this vicinity.  This is the land in which
+all men flourish; but there are three classes of men who flourish
+especially,--methodist preachers, slave-drivers, and paper-money
+manufacturers; and as one of the latter, I have just painted the
+word BANK on a fine slab of maple, which was green and growing when
+I arrived, and have discounted for the settlers, in my own
+currency, sundry bills, which are to be paid when the proceeds of
+the crop they have just sown shall return from New Orleans; so that
+my notes are the representatives of vegetation that is to be, and I
+am accordingly a capitalist of the first magnitude.  The people
+here know very well that I ran away from London; but the most of
+them have run away from some place or other; and they have a great
+respect for me, because they think I ran away with something worth
+taking, which few of them had the luck or the wit to do.  This
+gives them confidence in my resources, at the same time that, as
+there is nothing portable in the settlement except my own notes,
+they have no fear that I shall run away with them.  They know I am
+thoroughly conversant with the principles of banking, and as they
+have plenty of industry, no lack of sharpness, and abundance of
+land, they wanted nothing but capital to organise a flourishing
+settlement; and this capital I have manufactured to the extent
+required, at the expense of a small importation of pens, ink, and
+paper, and two or three inimitable copper plates.  I have abundance
+here of all good things, a good conscience included; for I really
+cannot see that I have done any wrong.  This was my position:  I
+owed half a million of money; and I had a trifle in my pocket.  It
+was clear that this trifle could never find its way to the right
+owner.  The question was, whether I should keep it, and live like a
+gentleman; or hand it over to lawyers and commissioners of
+bankruptcy, and die like a dog on a dunghill.  If I could have
+thought that the said lawyers, etc., had a better title to it than
+myself, I might have hesitated; but, as such title was not apparent
+to my satisfaction, I decided the question in my own favour, the
+right owners, as I have already said, being out of the question
+altogether.  I have always taken scientific views of morals and
+politics, a habit from which I derive much comfort under existing
+circumstances.
+
+"I hope you adhere to your music, though I cannot hope again to
+accompany your harp with my flute.  My last andante movement was
+too forte for those whom it took by surprise.  Let not your allegro
+vivace be damped by young Crotchet's desertion, which, though I
+have not heard it, I take for granted.  He is, like myself, a
+scientific politician, and has an eye as keen as a needle to his
+own interest.  He has had good luck so far, and is gorgeous in the
+spoils of many gulls; but I think the Polar Basin and Walrus
+Company will be too much for him yet.  There has been a splendid
+outlay on credit, and he is the only man, of the original parties
+concerned, of whom his Majesty's sheriffs could give any account.
+
+"I will not ask you to come here.  There is no husband for you.
+The men smoke, drink, and fight, and break more of their own heads
+than of girls' hearts.  Those among them who are musical, sing
+nothing but psalms.  They are excellent fellows in their way, but
+you would not like them.
+
+"Au reste, here are no rents, no taxes, no poor-rates, no tithes,
+no church establishment, no routs, no clubs, no rotten boroughs, no
+operas, no concerts, no theatres, no beggars, no thieves, no king,
+no lords, no ladies, and only one gentleman, videlicet, your loving
+father,
+
+Timothy Touchandgo."
+
+P.S.--I send you one of my notes; I can afford to part with it.  If
+you are accused of receiving money from me, you may pay it over to
+my assignees.  Robthetill continues to be my factotum; I say no
+more of him in this place:  he will give you an account of
+himself."
+
+"Dotandcarryonetown, etc.
+
+
+"Dear Miss,
+
+"Mr. Touchandgo will have told you of our arrival here, of our
+setting up a bank, and so forth.  We came here in a tilted waggon,
+which served us for parlour, kitchen, and all.  We soon got up a
+log-house; and, unluckily, we as soon got it down again, for the
+first fire we made in it burned down house and all.  However, our
+second experiment was more fortunate; and we are pretty well lodged
+in a house of three rooms on a floor; I should say the floor, for
+there is but one.
+
+"This new state is free to hold slaves; all the new states have not
+this privilege:  Mr. Touchandgo has bought some, and they are
+building him a villa.  Mr. Touchandgo is in a thriving way, but he
+is not happy here:  he longs for parties and concerts, and a seat
+in Congress.  He thinks it very hard that he cannot buy one with
+his own coinage, as he used to do in England.  Besides, he is
+afraid of the Regulators, who, if they do not like a man's
+character, wait upon him and flog him, doubling the dose at stated
+intervals, till he takes himself off.  He does not like this system
+of administering justice:  though I think he has nothing to fear
+from it.  He has the character of having money, which is the best
+of all characters here, as at home.  He lets his old English
+prejudices influence his opinions of his new neighbours; but, I
+assure you, they have many virtues.  Though they do keep slaves,
+they are all ready to fight for their own liberty; and I should not
+like to be an enemy within reach of one of their rifles.  When I
+say enemy, I include bailiff in the term.  One was shot not long
+ago.  There was a trial; the jury gave two dollars damages; the
+judge said they must find guilty or not guilty; but the counsel for
+the defendant (they would not call him prisoner) offered to fight
+the judge upon the point:  and as this was said literally, not
+metaphorically, and the counsel was a stout fellow, the judge gave
+in. The two dollars damages were not paid after all; for the
+defendant challenged the foreman to box for double or quits, and
+the foreman was beaten.  The folks in New York made a great outcry
+about it, but here it was considered all as it should be.  So you
+see, Miss, justice, liberty, and everything else of that kind, are
+different in different places, just as suits the convenience of
+those who have the sword in their own hands.  Hoping to hear of
+your health and happiness, I remain,
+
+"Dear Miss, your dutiful servant,
+
+"Roderick Robthetill."
+
+
+Miss Touchandgo replied as follows to the first of these letters:
+
+
+"My Dear Father,
+
+"I am sure you have the best of hearts, and I have no doubt you
+have acted with the best intentions.  My lover, or, I should rather
+say, my fortune's lover, has indeed forsaken me.  I cannot say I
+did not feel it; indeed, I cried very much; and the altered looks
+of people who used to be so delighted to see me, really annoyed me
+so, that I determined to change the scene altogether.  I have come
+into Wales, and am boarding with a farmer and his wife.  Their
+stock of English is very small; but I managed to agree with them,
+and they have four of the sweetest children I ever saw, to whom I
+teach all I know, and I manage to pick up some Welsh.  I have
+puzzled out a little song, which I think very pretty; I have
+translated it into English, and I send it you, with the original
+air.  You shall play it on your flute at eight o'clock every
+Saturday evening, and I will play and sing it at the same time, and
+I will fancy that I hear my dear papa accompanying me.
+
+"The people in London said very unkind things of you:  they hurt me
+very much at the time; but now I am out of their way, I do not seem
+to think their opinion of much consequence.  I am sure, when I
+recollect, at leisure, everything I have seen and heard among them,
+I cannot make out what they do that is so virtuous, as to set them
+up for judges of morals.  And I am sure they never speak the truth
+about anything, and there is no sincerity in either their love or
+their friendship.  An old Welsh bard here, who wears a waistcoat
+embroidered with leeks, and is called the Green Bard of Cadeir
+Idris, says the Scotch would be the best people in the world, if
+there was nobody but themselves to give them a character:  and so I
+think would the Londoners.  I hate the very thought of them, for I
+do believe they would have broken my heart, if I had not got out of
+their way.  Now I shall write you another letter very soon, and
+describe to you the country, and the people, and the children, and
+how I amuse myself, and everything that I think you will like to
+hear about:  and when I seal this letter, I shall drop a kiss on
+the cover.
+
+"Your loving daughter,
+
+"Susannah Touchandgo.
+
+P.S.--Tell Mr. Robthetill I will write to him in a day or two.
+This is the little song I spoke of:
+
+"Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,
+My heart is gone, far, far from me;
+And ever on its track will flee
+My thoughts, my dreams, beyond the sea.
+
+"Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,
+The swallow wanders fast and free;
+Oh, happy bird! were I like thee,
+I, too, would fly beyond the sea.
+
+"Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,
+Are kindly hearts and social glee:
+But here for me they may not be;
+My heart is gone beyond the sea."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII:  THE MOUNTAIN INN
+
+
+
+[Greek text]
+How sweet to minds that love not sordid ways
+Is solitude!--MENANDER.
+
+The Captain wandered despondingly up and down hill for several
+days, passing many hours of each in sitting on rocks; making,
+almost mechanically, sketches of waterfalls, and mountain pools;
+taking care, nevertheless, to be always before nightfall in a
+comfortable inn, where, being a temperate man, he whiled away the
+evening with making a bottle of sherry into negus.  His rambles
+brought him at length into the interior of Merionethshire, the land
+of all that is beautiful in nature, and all that is lovely in
+woman.
+
+Here, in a secluded village, he found a little inn, of small
+pretension and much comfort.  He felt so satisfied with his
+quarters, and discovered every day so much variety in the scenes of
+the surrounding mountains, that his inclination to proceed farther
+diminished progressively.
+
+It is one thing to follow the high road through a country, with
+every principally remarkable object carefully noted down in a book,
+taking, as therein directed, a guide, at particular points, to the
+more recondite sights:  it is another to sit down on one chosen
+spot, especially when the choice is unpremeditated, and from
+thence, by a series of explorations, to come day by day on
+unanticipated scenes.  The latter process has many advantages over
+the former; it is free from the disappointment which attends
+excited expectation, when imagination has outstripped reality, and
+from the accidents that mar the scheme of the tourist's single day,
+when the valleys may be drenched with rain, or the mountains
+shrouded with mist.
+
+The Captain was one morning preparing to sally forth on his usual
+exploration, when he heard a voice without, inquiring for a guide
+to the ruined castle.  The voice seemed familiar to him, and going
+forth into the gateway, he recognised Mr. Chainmail.  After
+greetings and inquiries for the absent:  "You vanished very
+abruptly, Captain," said Mr. Chainmail, "from our party on the
+canal."
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  To tell you the truth, I had a particular
+reason for trying the effect of absence from a part of that party.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  I surmised as much:  at the same time, the unusual
+melancholy of an in general most vivacious young lady made me
+wonder at your having acted so precipitately.  The lady's heart is
+yours, if there be truth in signs.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Hearts are not now what they were in the days
+of the old song:  "Will love be controlled by advice?"
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Very true; hearts, heads, and arms have all
+degenerated, most sadly.  We can no more feel the high impassioned
+love of the ages, which some people have the impudence to call
+dark, than we can wield King Richard's battleaxe, bend Robin Hood's
+bow, or flourish the oaken graft of the Pindar of Wakefield.  Still
+we have our tastes and feelings, though they deserve not the name
+of passions; and some of us may pluck up spirit to try to carry a
+point, when we reflect that we have to contend with men no better
+than ourselves.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  We do not now break lances for ladies.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  No; nor even bulrushes.  We jingle purses for them,
+flourish paper-money banners, and tilt with scrolls of parchment.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  In which sort of tilting I have been thrown
+from the saddle.  I presume it was not love that led you from the
+flotilla?
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  By no means.  I was tempted by the sight of an old
+tower, not to leave this land of ruined castles, without having
+collected a few hints for the adornment of my baronial hall.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  I understand you live en famille with your
+domestics.  You will have more difficulty in finding a lady who
+would adopt your fashion of living, than one who would prefer you
+to a richer man.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Very true.  I have tried the experiment on several
+as guests; but once was enough for them:  so, I suppose, I shall
+die a bachelor.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  I see, like some others of my friends, you
+will give up anything except your hobby.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  I will give up anything but my baronial hall.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  You will never find a wife for your purpose,
+unless in the daughter of some old-fashioned farmer.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  No, I thank you.  I must have a lady of gentle
+blood; I shall not marry below my own condition:  I am too much of
+a herald; I have too much of the twelfth century in me for that.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Why, then your chance is not much better than
+mine.  A well-born beauty would scarcely be better pleased with
+your baronial hall than with my more humble offer of love in a
+cottage.  She must have a town-house, and an opera-box, and roll
+about the streets in a carriage; especially if her father has a
+rotten borough, for the sake of which he sells his daughter, that
+he may continue to sell his country.  But you were inquiring for a
+guide to the ruined castle in this vicinity; I know the way and
+will conduct you.
+
+The proposal pleased Mr. Chainmail, and they set forth on their
+expedition
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII:  THE LAKE--THE RUIN
+
+
+
+Or vieni, Amore, e qua meco t'assetta.
+ORLANDO INNAMORATO.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Would it not be a fine thing, Captain, you being
+picturesque, and I poetical; you being for the lights and shadows
+of the present, and I for those of the past; if we were to go
+together over the ground which was travelled in the twelfth century
+by Giraldus de Barri, when he accompanied Archbishop Baldwin to
+preach the crusade?
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Nothing, in my present frame of mind, could be
+more agreeable to me.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  We would provide ourselves with his Itinerarium;
+compare what has been, with what is; contemplate in their decay the
+castles and abbeys, which he saw in their strength and splendour;
+and, while you were sketching their remains, I would
+dispassionately inquire what has been gained by the change.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Be it so.
+
+But the scheme was no sooner arranged, than the Captain was
+summoned to London by a letter on business, which he did not expect
+to detain him long.  Mr. Chainmail, who, like the Captain, was
+fascinated with the inn and the scenery, determined to await his
+companion's return; and, having furnished him with a list of books,
+which he was to bring with him from London, took leave of him, and
+began to pass his days like the heroes of Ariosto, who
+
+
+- tutto il giorno, al bel oprar intenti,
+Saliron balze, e traversar torrenti.
+
+
+One day Mr. Chainmail traced upwards the course of a mountain
+stream to a spot where a small waterfall threw itself over a slab
+of perpendicular rock, which seemed to bar his farther progress.
+On a nearer view, he discovered a flight of steps, roughly hewn in
+the rock, on one side of the fall.  Ascending these steps, he
+entered a narrow winding pass, between high and naked rocks, that
+afforded only space for a rough footpath, carved on one side, at
+some height above the torrent.
+
+The pass opened on a lake, from which the stream issued, and which
+lay like a dark mirror, set in a gigantic frame of mountain
+precipices.  Fragments of rock lay scattered on the edge of the
+lake, some half-buried in the water:  Mr. Chainmail scrambled some
+way over these fragments, till the base of a rock sinking abruptly
+in the water, effectually barred his progress.  He sat down on a
+large smooth stone; the faint murmur of the stream he had quitted,
+the occasional flapping of the wings of the heron, and at long
+intervals, the solitary springing of a trout, were the only sounds
+that came to his ear.  The sun shone brightly half-way down the
+opposite rocks, presenting, on their irregular faces, strong masses
+of light and shade.  Suddenly he heard the dash of a paddle, and,
+turning his eyes, saw a solitary and beautiful girl gliding over
+the lake in a coracle:  she was proceeding from the vicinity of the
+point he had quitted, towards the upper end of the lake.  Her
+apparel was rustic, but there was in its style something more
+recherchee, in its arrangement something more of elegance and
+precision, than was common to the mountain peasant girl.  It had
+more of the contadina of the opera, than of the genuine
+mountaineer; so at least thought Mr. Chainmail; but she passed so
+rapidly, and took him so much by surprise, that he had little
+opportunity for accurate observation.  He saw her land, at the
+farther extremity, and disappear among the rocks:  he rose from his
+seat, returned to the mouth of the pass, stepped from stone to
+stone across the stream, and attempted to pass round by the other
+side of the lake; but there again the abruptly sinking precipice
+closed his way.
+
+Day after day he haunted the spot, but never saw again either the
+damsel or the coracle.  At length, marvelling at himself for being
+so solicitous about the apparition of a peasant girl in a coracle,
+who could not, by any possibility, be anything to him, he resumed
+his explorations in another direction.
+
+One day he wandered to the ruined castle, on the sea-shore, which
+was not very distant from his inn; and sitting on the rock, near
+the base of the ruin, was calling up the forms of past ages on the
+wall of an ivied tower, when on its summit appeared a female
+figure, whom he recognised in an instant for his nymph of the
+coracle.  The folds of the blue gown pressed by the sea-breeze
+against one of the most symmetrical of figures, the black feather
+of the black hat, and the ringleted hair beneath it fluttering in
+the wind; the apparent peril of her position, on the edge of the
+mouldering wall, from whose immediate base the rock went down
+perpendicularly to the sea, presented a singularly interesting
+combination to the eye of the young antiquary.
+
+Mr. Chainmail had to pass half round the castle, on the land side,
+before he could reach the entrance:  he coasted the dry and
+bramble-grown moat, crossed the unguarded bridge, passed the
+unportcullised arch of the gateway, entered the castle court,
+ascertained the tower, ascended the broken stairs, and stood on the
+ivied wall.  But the nymph of the place was gone.  He searched the
+ruins within and without, but he found not what he sought:  he
+haunted the castle day after day, as he had done the lake, but the
+damsel appeared no more.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV:  THE DINGLE
+
+
+
+The stars of midnight shall be dear
+To her, and she shall lean her ear
+In many a secret place,
+Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
+And beauty, born of murmuring sound,
+Shall pass into her face.--WORDSWORTH.
+
+Miss Susannah Touchandgo had read the four great poets of Italy,
+and many of the best writers of France.  About the time of her
+father's downfall, accident threw into her way Les Reveries du
+Promeneur Solitaire; and from the impression which these made on
+her, she carried with her into retirement all the works of
+Rousseau.  In the midst of that startling light, which the conduct
+of old friends on a sudden reverse of fortune throws on a young and
+inexperienced mind, the doctrines of the philosopher of Geneva
+struck with double force upon her sympathies:  she imbibed the
+sweet poison, as somebody calls it, of his writings, even to a love
+of truth; which, every wise man knows, ought to be left to those
+who can get anything by it.  The society of children, the beauties
+of nature, the solitude of the mountains, became her consolation,
+and, by degrees, her delight.  The gay society from which she had
+been excluded, remained on her memory only as a disagreeable dream.
+She imbibed her new monitor's ideas of simplicity of dress,
+assimilating her own with that of the peasant-girls in the
+neighbourhood:  the black hat, the blue gown, the black stockings,
+the shoes, tied on the instep.
+
+Pride was, perhaps, at the bottom of the change:  she was willing
+to impose in some measure on herself, by marking a contemptuous
+indifference to the characteristics of the class of society from
+which she had fallen.
+
+
+And with the food of pride sustained her soul
+In solitude.
+
+
+It is true that she somewhat modified the forms of her rustic
+dress:  to the black hat she added a black feather, to the blue
+gown she added a tippet, and a waistband fastened in front with a
+silver buckle; she wore her black stockings very smooth and tight
+on her ankles, and tied her shoes in tasteful bows, with the nicest
+possible ribbon.  In this apparel, to which, in winter, she added a
+scarlet cloak, she made dreadful havoc among the rustic
+mountaineers, many of whom proposed to "keep company" with her in
+the Cambrian fashion, an honour which, to their great surprise, she
+always declined.  Among these, Harry Ap-Heather, whose father
+rented an extensive sheepwalk, and had a thousand she-lambs
+wandering in the mountains, was the most strenuous in his suit, and
+the most pathetic in his lamentations for her cruelty.
+
+Miss Susannah often wandered among the mountains alone, even to
+some distance from the farmhouse.  Sometimes she descended into the
+bottom of the dingles, to the black rocky beds of the torrents, and
+dreamed away hours at the feet of the cataracts.  One spot in
+particular, from which she had at first shrunk with terror, became
+by degrees her favourite haunt.  A path turning and returning at
+acute angles, led down a steep wood-covered slope to the edge of a
+chasm, where a pool, or resting-place of a torrent, lay far below.
+A cataract fell in a single sheet into the pool; the pool boiled
+and bubbled at the base of the fall, but through the greater part
+of its extent, lay calm, deep, and black, as if the cataract had
+plunged through it to an unimaginable depth, without disturbing its
+eternal repose.  At the opposite extremity of the pool, the rocks
+almost met at their summits, the trees of the opposite banks
+intermingled their leaves, and another cataract plunged from the
+pool into a chasm, on which the sunbeams never gleamed.  High
+above, on both sides, the steep woody slopes of the dingle soared
+into the sky; and from a fissure in the rock, on which the little
+path terminated, a single gnarled and twisted oak stretched itself
+over the pool, forming a fork with its boughs at a short distance
+from the rock.  Miss Susannah often sat on the rock, with her feet
+resting on this tree; in time, she made her seat on the tree
+itself, with her feet hanging over the abyss; and at length, she
+accustomed herself to lie along upon its trunk, with her side on
+the mossy bole of the fork, and an arm round one of the branches.
+From this position a portion of the sky and the woods was reflected
+in the pool, which, from its bank, was but a mass of darkness.  The
+first time she reclined in this manner, her heart beat audibly; in
+time she lay down as calmly as on the mountain heather; the
+perception of the sublime was probably heightened by an
+intermingled sense of danger; and perhaps that indifference to
+life, which early disappointment forces upon sensitive minds, was
+necessary to the first experiment.  There was, in the novelty and
+strangeness of the position, an excitement which never wholly
+passed away, but which became gradually subordinate to the
+influence, at once tranquillising and elevating, of the mingled
+eternity of motion, sound, and solitude.
+
+One sultry noon, she descended into this retreat with a mind more
+than usually disturbed by reflections on the past.  She lay in her
+favourite position, sometimes gazing on the cataract; looking
+sometimes up the steep sylvan acclivities, into the narrow space of
+the cloudless ether; sometimes down into the abyss of the pool, and
+the deep bright-blue reflections that opened another immensity
+below her.  The distressing recollections of the morning, the world
+and all its littlenesses, faded from her thoughts like a dream; but
+her wounded and wearied spirit drank in too deeply the
+tranquillising power of the place, and she dropped asleep upon the
+tree like a ship-boy on the mast.
+
+At this moment Mr. Chainmail emerged into daylight, on a projection
+of the opposite rock, having struck down through the woods in
+search of unsophisticated scenery.  The scene he discovered filled
+him with delight:  he seated himself on the rock, and fell into one
+of his romantic reveries; when suddenly the semblance of a black
+hat and feather caught his eye among the foliage of the projecting
+oak.  He started up, shifted his position, and got a glimpse of a
+blue gown.  It was his lady of the lake, his enchantress of the
+ruined castle, divided from him by a barrier which, at a few yards
+below, he could almost overleap, yet unapproachable but by a
+circuit perhaps of many hours.  He watched with intense anxiety.
+To listen if she breathed was out of the question:  the noses of a
+dean and chapter would have been soundless in the roar of the
+torrent.  From her extreme stillness, she appeared to sleep:  yet
+what creature, not desperate, would go wilfully to sleep in such a
+place?  Was she asleep, then?  Nay, was she alive?  She was as
+motionless as death.  Had she been murdered, thrown from above, and
+caught in the tree?  She lay too regularly and too composedly for
+such a supposition.  She was asleep, then, and, in all probability,
+her waking would be fatal.  He shifted his position.  Below the
+pool two beetle-browed rocks nearly overarched the chasm, leaving
+just such a space at the summit as was within the possibility of a
+leap; the torrent roared below in a fearful gulf.  He paused some
+time on the brink, measuring the practicability and the danger, and
+casting every now and then an anxious glance to his sleeping
+beauty.  In one of these glances he saw a slight movement of the
+blue gown, and, in a moment after, the black hat and feather
+dropped into the pool.  Reflection was lost for a moment, and, by a
+sudden impulse, he bounded over the chasm.
+
+He stood above the projecting oak; the unknown beauty lay like the
+nymph of the scene; her long black hair, which the fall of her hat
+had disengaged from its fastenings, drooping through the boughs:
+he saw that the first thing to be done, was to prevent her throwing
+her feet off the trunk, in the first movements of waking.  He sat
+down on the rock, and placed his feet on the stem, securing her
+ankles between his own:  one of her arms was round a branch of the
+fork, the other lay loosely on her side.  The hand of this arm he
+endeavoured to reach, by leaning forward from his seat; he
+approximated, but could not touch it:  after several tantalising
+efforts, he gave up the point in despair.  He did not attempt to
+wake her, because he feared it might have bad consequences, and he
+resigned himself to expect the moment of her natural waking,
+determined not to stir from his post, if she should sleep till
+midnight.
+
+In this period of forced inaction, he could contemplate at leisure
+the features and form of his charmer.  She was not one of the
+slender beauties of romance; she was as plump as a partridge; her
+cheeks were two roses, not absolutely damask, yet verging
+thereupon; her lips twin-cherries, of equal size; her nose regular,
+and almost Grecian; her forehead high, and delicately fair; her
+eyebrows symmetrically arched; her eyelashes, long, black, and
+silky, fitly corresponding with the beautiful tresses that hung
+among the leaves of the oak, like clusters of wandering grapes.
+Her eyes were yet to be seen; but how could he doubt that their
+opening would be the rising of the sun, when all that surrounded
+their fringy portals was radiant as "the forehead of the morning
+sky?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV:  THE FARM
+
+
+
+Da ydyw'r gwaith, rhaid d'we'yd y gwir,
+Ar fryniau Sir Meirionydd;
+Golwg oer o'r gwaela gawn
+Mae hi etto yn llawn llawenydd.
+
+Though Meirion's rocks, and hills of heath,
+Repel the distant sight,
+Yet where, than those bleak hills beneath,
+Is found more true delight?
+
+At length the young lady awoke.  She was startled at the sudden
+sight of the stranger, and somewhat terrified at the first
+perception of her position.  But she soon recovered her self-
+possession, and, extending her hand to the offered hand of Mr.
+Chainmail, she raised herself up on the tree, and stepped on the
+rocky bank.
+
+Mr. Chainmail solicited permission to attend her to her home, which
+the young lady graciously conceded.  They emerged from the woody
+dingle, traversed an open heath, wound along a mountain road by the
+shore of a lake, descended to the deep bed of another stream,
+crossed it by a series of stepping-stones, ascended to some height
+on the opposite side, and followed upwards the line of the stream,
+till the banks opened into a spacious amphitheatre, where stood, in
+its fields and meadows, the farmhouse of Ap-Llymry.
+
+During this walk, they had kept up a pretty animated conversation.
+The lady had lost her hat, and, as she turned towards Mr.
+Chainmail, in speaking to him, there was no envious projection of
+brim to intercept the beams of those radiant eyes he had been so
+anxious to see unclosed.  There was in them a mixture of softness
+and brilliancy, the perfection of the beauty of female eyes, such
+as some men have passed through life without seeing, and such as no
+man ever saw, in any pair of eyes, but once; such as can never be
+seen and forgotten.  Young Crotchet had seen it; he had not
+forgotten it; but he had trampled on its memory, as the renegade
+tramples on the emblems of a faith which his interest only, and not
+his heart or his reason, has rejected.
+
+Her hair streamed over her shoulders; the loss of the black feather
+had left nothing but the rustic costume, the blue gown, the black
+stockings, and the ribbon-tied shoes.  Her voice had that full soft
+volume of melody which gives to common speech the fascination of
+music.  Mr. Chainmail could not reconcile the dress of the damsel
+with her conversation and manners.  He threw out a remote question
+or two, with the hope of solving the riddle, but, receiving no
+reply, he became satisfied that she was not disposed to be
+communicative respecting herself, and, fearing to offend her, fell
+upon other topics.  They talked of the scenes of the mountains, of
+the dingle, the ruined castle, the solitary lake.  She told him,
+that lake lay under the mountains behind her home, and the coracle
+and the pass at the extremity, saved a long circuit to the nearest
+village, whither she sometimes went to inquire for letters.
+
+Mr. Chainmail felt curious to know from whom these letters might
+be; and he again threw out two or three fishing questions, to
+which, as before, he obtained no answer.
+
+The only living biped they met in their walk was the unfortunate
+Harry Ap-Heather, with whom they fell in by the stepping-stones,
+who, seeing the girl of his heart hanging on another man's arm,
+and, concluding at once that they were "keeping company," fixed on
+her a mingled look of surprise, reproach, and tribulation; and,
+unable to control his feelings under the sudden shock, burst into a
+flood of tears, and blubbered till the rocks re-echoed.
+
+They left him mingling his tears with the stream, and his
+lamentations with its murmurs.  Mr. Chainmail inquired who that
+strange creature might be, and what was the matter with him.  The
+young lady answered, that he was a very worthy young man, to whom
+she had been the innocent cause of much unhappiness.
+
+"I pity him sincerely," said Mr. Chainmail and, nevertheless, he
+could scarcely restrain his laughter at the exceedingly original
+figure which the unfortunate rustic lover had presented by the
+stepping-stones.
+
+The children ran out to meet their dear Miss Susan, jumped all
+round her, and asked what was become of her hat.  Ap-Llymry came
+out in great haste, and invited Mr. Chainmail to walk in and dine:
+Mr. Chainmail did not wait to be asked twice.  In a few minutes the
+whole party, Miss Susan and Mr. Chainmail, Mr. and Mrs. Ap-Llymry,
+and progeny, were seated over a clean homespun table cloth,
+ornamented with fowls and bacon, a pyramid of potatoes, another of
+cabbage, which Ap-Llymry said "was poiled with the pacon, and as
+coot as marrow," a bowl of milk for the children, and an immense
+brown jug of foaming ale, with which Ap-Llymry seemed to delight in
+filling the horn of his new guest.
+
+Shall we describe the spacious apartment, which was at once
+kitchen, hall, and dining-room,--the large dark rafters, the
+pendent bacon and onions, the strong old oaken furniture, the
+bright and trimly-arranged utensils?  Shall we describe the cut of
+Ap-Llymry's coat, the colour and tie of his neckcloth, the number
+of buttons at his knees,--the structure of Mrs. Ap-Llymry's cap,
+having lappets over the ears, which were united under the chin,
+setting forth especially whether the bond of union were a pin or a
+ribbon?  We shall leave this tempting field of interesting
+expatiation to those whose brains are high-pressure steam-engines
+for spinning prose by the furlong, to be trumpeted in paid-for
+paragraphs in the quack's corner of newspapers:  modern literature
+having attained the honourable distinction of sharing, with
+blacking and Macassar oil, the space which used to be monopolised
+by razor-strops and the lottery; whereby that very enlightened
+community, the reading public, is tricked into the perusal of much
+exemplary nonsense; though the few who see through the trickery
+have no reason to complain, since as "good wine needs no bush," so,
+ex vi oppositi, these bushes of venal panegyric point out very
+clearly that the things they celebrate are not worth reading.
+
+The party dined very comfortably in a corner most remote from the
+fire:  and Mr. Chainmail very soon found his head swimming with two
+or three horns of ale, of a potency to which even he was
+unaccustomed.  After dinner Ap-Llymry made him finish a bottle of
+mead, which he willingly accepted, both as an excuse to remain and
+as a drink of the dark ages, which he had no doubt was a genuine
+brewage from uncorrupted tradition.
+
+In the meantime, as soon as the cloth was removed, the children had
+brought out Miss Susannah's harp.  She began, without affectation,
+to play and sing to the children, as was her custom of an
+afternoon, first in their own language, and their national
+melodies, then in English; but she was soon interrupted by a
+general call of little voices for "Ouf! di giorno."  She complied
+with the request, and sang the ballad from Paer's Camilla:  "Un di
+carco il mulinaro."  The children were very familiar with every
+syllable of this ballad, which had been often fully explained to
+them.  They danced in a circle with the burden of every verse,
+shouting out the chorus with good articulation and joyous energy;
+and at the end of the second stanza, where the traveller has his
+nose pinched by his grandmother's ghost, every nose in the party
+was nipped by a pair of little fingers.  Mr. Chainmail, who was not
+prepared for the process, came in for a very energetic tweak from a
+chubby girl that sprang suddenly on his knees for the purpose, and
+made the roof ring with her laughter.
+
+So passed the time till evening, when Mr. Chainmail moved to
+depart.  But it turned out on inquiry that he was some miles from
+his inn, that the way was intricate, and that he must not make any
+difficulty about accepting the farmer's hospitality till morning.
+The evening set in with rain:  the fire was found agreeable; they
+drew around it.  The young lady made tea; and afterwards, from time
+to time, at Mr. Chainmail's special request, delighted his ear with
+passages of ancient music.  Then came a supper of lake trout, fried
+on the spot, and thrown, smoking hot, from the pan to the plate.
+Then came a brewage, which the farmer called his nightcap, of which
+he insisted on Mr. Chainmail's taking his full share.  After which
+the gentleman remembered nothing till he awoke, the next morning,
+to the pleasant consciousness that he was under the same roof with
+one of the most fascinating creatures under the canopy of heaven.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI:  THE NEWSPAPER
+
+
+
+[Greek text]
+Sprung from what line, adorns the maid
+These, valleys deep in mountain-shade?
+PIND.  Pyth.  IX
+
+Mr. Chainmail forgot the Captain and the route of Giraldus de
+Barri.  He became suddenly satisfied that the ruined castle in his
+present neighbourhood was the best possible specimen of its class,
+and that it was needless to carry his researches further.
+
+He visited the farm daily:  found himself always welcome; flattered
+himself that the young lady saw him with pleasure, and dragged a
+heavier chain at every new parting from Miss Susan, as the children
+called his nymph of the mountains.  What might be her second name,
+he had vainly endeavoured to discover.
+
+Mr. Chainmail was in love:  but the determination he had long
+before formed and fixed in his mind, to marry only a lady of gentle
+blood, without a blot in her escutcheon, repressed the declarations
+of passion which were often rising to his lips.  In the meantime he
+left no means untried to pluck out the heart of her mystery.
+
+The young lady soon divined his passion, and penetrated his
+prejudices.  She began to look on him with favourable eyes; but she
+feared her name and parentage would present an insuperable barrier
+to his feudal pride.
+
+Things were in this state when the Captain returned, and unpacked
+his maps and books in the parlour of the inn.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Really, Captain, I find so many objects of
+attraction in this neighbourhood, that I would gladly postpone our
+purpose.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Undoubtedly this neighbourhood has many
+attractions; but there is something very inviting in the scheme you
+laid down.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  No doubt there is something very tempting in the
+route of Giraldus de Barri.  But there are better things in this
+vicinity even than that.  To tell you the truth, Captain, I have
+fallen in love.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  What! while I have been away?
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Even so.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  The plunge must have been very sudden, if you
+are already over head and ears.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  As deep as Llyn-y-dreiddiad-vrawd.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  And what may that be?
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  A pool not far off:  a resting-place of a mountain
+stream which is said to have no bottom.  There is a tradition
+connected with it; and here is a ballad on it, at your service.
+
+
+LLYN-Y-DREIDDIAD-VRAWD.
+THE POOL OF THE DIVING FRIAR.
+
+Gwenwynwyn withdrew from the feasts of his hall:
+He slept very little, he prayed not at all:
+He pondered, and wandered, and studied alone;
+And sought, night and day, the philosopher's stone.
+
+He found it at length, and he made its first proof
+By turning to gold all the lead of his roof:
+Then he bought some magnanimous heroes, all fire,
+Who lived but to smite and be smitten for hire.
+
+With these on the plains like a torrent he broke;
+He filled the whole country with flame and with smoke;
+He killed all the swine, and he broached all the wine;
+He drove off the sheep, and the beeves, and the kine;
+
+He took castles and towns; he cut short limbs and lives;
+He made orphans and widows of children and wives:
+This course many years he triumphantly ran,
+And did mischief enough to be called a great man.
+
+When, at last, he had gained all for which he held striven,
+He bethought him of buying a passport to heaven;
+Good and great as he was, yet he did not well know,
+How soon, or which way, his great spirit might go.
+
+He sought the grey friars, who beside a wild stream,
+Refected their frames on a primitive scheme;
+The gravest and wisest Gwenwynwyn found out,
+All lonely and ghostly, and angling for trout.
+
+Below the white dash of a mighty cascade,
+Where a pool of the stream a deep resting-place made,
+And rock-rooted oaks stretched their branches on high,
+The friar stood musing, and throwing his fly.
+
+To him said Gwenwynwyn, "Hold, father, here's store,
+For the good of the church, and the good of the poor;"
+Then he gave him the stone; but, ere more he could speak,
+Wrath came on the friar, so holy and meek.
+
+He had stretched forth his hand to receive the red gold,
+And he thought himself mocked by Gwenwynwyn the Bold;
+And in scorn of the gift, and in rage at the giver,
+He jerked it immediately into the river.
+
+Gwenwynwyn, aghast, not a syllable spake;
+The philosopher's stone made a duck and a drake;
+Two systems of circles a moment were seen,
+And the stream smoothed them off, as they never had been.
+
+Gwenwynwyn regained, and uplifted his voice,
+"Oh friar, grey friar, full rash was thy choice;
+The stone, the good stone, which away thou hast thrown,
+Was the stone of all stones, the philosopher's stone."
+
+The friar looked pale, when his error he knew;
+The friar looked red, and the friar looked blue;
+And heels over head, from the point of a rock,
+He plunged, without stopping to pull off his frock.
+
+He dived very deep, but he dived all in vain,
+The prize he had slighted he found not again;
+Many times did the friar his diving renew,
+And deeper and deeper the river still grew.
+
+Gwenwynwyn gazed long, of his senses in doubt,
+To see the grey friar a diver so stout;
+Then sadly and slowly his castle he sought,
+And left the friar diving, like dabchick distraught.
+
+Gwenwynwyn fell sick with alarm and despite,
+Died, and went to the devil, the very same night;
+The magnanimous heroes he held in his pay
+Sacked his castle, and marched with the plunder away.
+
+No knell on the silence of midnight was rolled
+For the flight of the soul of Gwenwynwyn the Bold.
+The brethren, unfeed, let the mighty ghost pass,
+Without praying a prayer, or intoning a mass.
+
+The friar haunted ever beside the dark stream;
+The philosopher's stone was his thought and his dream:
+And day after day, ever head under heels
+He dived all the time he could spare from his meals.
+
+He dived, and he dived, to the end of his days,
+As the peasants oft witnessed with fear and amaze.
+The mad friar's diving-place long was their theme,
+And no plummet can fathom that pool of the stream.
+
+And still, when light clouds on the midnight winds ride,
+If by moonlight you stray on the lone river-side,
+The ghost of the friar may be seen diving there,
+With head in the water, and heels in the air.
+
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Well, your ballad is very pleasant:  you shall
+show me the scene, and I will sketch it; but just now I am more
+interested about your love.  What heroine of the twelfth century
+has risen from the ruins of the old castle, and looked down on you
+from the ivied battlements?
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  You are nearer the mark than you suppose.  Even
+from those battlements a heroine of the twelfth century has looked
+down on me.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Oh! some vision of an ideal beauty.  I suppose
+the whole will end in another tradition and a ballad.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Genuine flesh and blood; as genuine as Lady
+Clarinda.  I will tell you the story.
+
+Mr. Chainmail narrated his adventures.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Then you seem to have found what you wished.
+Chance has thrown in your way what none of the gods would have
+ventured to promise you.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Yes, but I know nothing of her birth and parentage.
+She tells me nothing of herself, and I have no right to question
+her directly.
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  She appears to be expressly destined for the
+light of your baronial hall.  Introduce me in this case, two heads
+are better than one.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  No, I thank you.  Leave me to manage my chance of a
+prize, and keep you to your own chance of a -
+
+CAPTAIN FITZCHROME.  Blank.  As you please.  Well, I will pitch my
+tent here, till I have filled my portfolio, and shall be glad of as
+much of your company as you can spare from more attractive society.
+
+Matters went on pretty smoothly for several days, when an unlucky
+newspaper threw all into confusion.  Mr. Chainmail received
+newspapers by the post, which came in three times a week.  One
+morning, over their half-finished breakfast, the Captain had read
+half a newspaper very complacently, when suddenly he started up in
+a frenzy, hurled over the breakfast table, and, bouncing from the
+apartment, knocked down Harry Ap Heather, who was coming in at the
+door to challenge his supposed rival to a boxing-match.
+
+Harry sprang up, in a double rage, and intercepted Mr. Chainmail's
+pursuit of the Captain, placing himself in the doorway, in a
+pugilistic attitude.  Mr. Chainmail, not being disposed for this
+mode of combat, stepped back into the parlour, took the poker in
+his right hand, and displacing the loose bottom of a large elbow
+chair, threw it over his left arm as a shield.  Harry, not liking
+the aspect of the enemy in this imposing attitude, retreated with
+backward steps into the kitchen, and tumbled over a cur, which
+immediately fastened on his rear.
+
+Mr. Chainmail, half-laughing, half-vexed, anxious to overtake the
+Captain, and curious to know what was the matter with him, pocketed
+the newspaper, and sallied forth, leaving Harry roaring for a
+doctor and tailor, to repair the lacerations of his outward man.
+
+Mr. Chainmail could find no trace of the Captain.  Indeed, he
+sought him but in one direction, which was that leading to the
+farm; where he arrived in due time, and found Miss Susan alone.  He
+laid the newspaper on the table, as was his custom, and proceeded
+to converse with the young lady:  a conversation of many pauses, as
+much of signs as of words.  The young lady took up the paper, and
+turned it over and over, while she listened to Mr. Chainmail, whom
+she found every day more and more agreeable, when suddenly her eye
+glanced on something which made her change colour, and dropping the
+paper on the ground, she rose from her seat, exclaiming:
+"Miserable must she be who trusts any of your faithless sex! never,
+never, never, will I endure such misery twice."  And she vanished
+up the stairs.  Mr. Chainmail was petrified.  At length, he cried
+aloud:  "Cornelius Agrippa must have laid a spell on this accursed
+newspaper;" and was turning it over, to look for the source of the
+mischief, when Mrs. Ap Llymry made her appearance.
+
+MRS. AP LLYMRY.  What have you done to poor dear Miss Susan? she is
+crying ready to break her heart.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  So help me the memory of Richard Coeur-de-Lion, I
+have not the most distant notion of what is the matter.
+
+MRS. AP LLYMRY.  Oh, don't tell me, sir; you must have ill-used
+her.  I know how it is.  You have been keeping company with her, as
+if you wanted to marry her; and now, all at once, you have been
+insulting her.  I have seen such tricks more than once, and you
+ought to be ashamed of yourself.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  My dear madam, you wrong me utterly.  I have none
+but the kindest feelings and the most honourable purposes towards
+her.  She has been disturbed by something she has seen in this
+rascally paper.
+
+MRS. AP LLYMRY.  Why, then, the best thing you can do is to go
+away, and come again tomorrow.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Not I, indeed, madam.  Out of this house I stir
+not, till I have seen the young lady, and obtained a full
+explanation.
+
+MRS. AP LLYMRY.  I will tell Miss Susan what you say.  Perhaps she
+will come down.
+
+Mr. Chainmail sat with as much patience as he could command,
+running over the paper, from column to column.  At length he
+lighted on an announcement of the approaching marriage of Lady
+Clarinda Bossnowl with Mr. Crotchet the younger.  This explained
+the Captain's discomposure, but the cause of Miss Susan's was still
+to be sought:  he could not know that it was one and the same.
+
+Presently, the sound of the longed-for step was heard on the
+stairs; the young lady reappeared, and resumed her seat:  her eyes
+showed that she had been weeping.  The gentleman was now
+exceedingly puzzled how to begin, but the young lady relieved him
+by asking, with great simplicity:  "What do you wish to have
+explained, sir?"
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  I wish, if I may be permitted, to explain myself to
+you.  Yet could I first wish to know what it was that disturbed you
+in this unlucky paper.  Happy should I be if I could remove the
+cause of your inquietude!
+
+MISS SUSANNAH.  The cause is already removed.  I saw something that
+excited painful recollections; nothing that I could now wish
+otherwise than as it is.
+
+MR.  CHAINMAIL.  Yet, may I ask why it is that I find one so
+accomplished living in this obscurity, and passing only by the name
+of Miss Susan?
+
+MISS SUSANNAH.  The world and my name are not friends.  I have left
+the world, and wish to remain for ever a stranger to all whom I
+once knew in it.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  You can have done nothing to dishonour your name.
+
+MISS SUSANNAH.  No, sir.  My father has done that of which the
+world disapproves, in matters of which I pretend not to judge.  I
+have suffered for it as I will never suffer again.  My name is my
+own secret:  I have no other, and that is one not worth knowing.
+You see what I am, and all I am.  I live according to the condition
+of my present fortune, and here, so living, I have found
+tranquillity.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Yet, I entreat you, tell me your name.
+
+MISS SUSANNAH.  Why, sir?
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Why, but to throw my hand, my heart, my fortune, at
+your feet, if -.
+
+MISS SUSANNAH.  If my name be worthy of them.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Nay, nay, not so; if your hand and heart are free.
+
+MISS SUSANNAH.  My hand and heart are free; but they must be sought
+from myself, and not from my name.
+
+She fixed her eyes on him, with a mingled expression of mistrust,
+of kindness, and of fixed resolution, which the far-gone inamorato
+found irresistible.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Then from yourself alone I seek them.
+
+MISS SUSANNAH.  Reflect. You have prejudices on the score of
+parentage.  I have not conversed with you so often without knowing
+what they are.  Choose between them and me.  I too have my own
+prejudices on the score of personal pride.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  I would choose you from all the world, were you
+even the daughter of the executeur des hautes oeuvres, as the
+heroine of a romantic story I once read turned out to be.
+
+MISS SUSANNAH.  I am satisfied.  You have now a right to know my
+history, and if you repent, I absolve you from all obligations.
+
+She told him her history; but he was out of the reach of
+repentance.  "It is true," as at a subsequent period he said to the
+captain, "she is the daughter of a money-changer:  one who, in the
+days of Richard the First, would have been plucked by the beard in
+the streets:  but she is, according to modern notions, a lady of
+gentle blood.  As to her father's running away, that is a minor
+consideration:  I have always understood, from Mr. Mac Quedy, who
+is a great oracle in this way, that promises to pay ought not to be
+kept; the essence of a safe and economical currency being an
+interminable series of broken promises.  There seems to be a
+difference among the learned as to the way in which the promises
+ought to be broken; but I am not deep enough in this casuistry to
+enter into such nice distinctions."
+
+In a few days there was a wedding, a pathetic leave-taking of the
+farmer's family, a hundred kisses from the bride to the children,
+and promises twenty times reclaimed and renewed, to visit them in
+the ensuing year.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII:  THE INVITATION
+
+
+
+A cup of wine, that's brisk and fine,
+And drink unto the lemon mine.
+Master Silence.
+
+This veridicous history began in May, and the occurrences already
+narrated have carried it on to the middle of autumn.  Stepping over
+the interval to Christmas, we find ourselves in our first locality,
+among the chalk hills of the Thames; and we discover our old
+friend, Mr. Crotchet, in the act of accepting an invitation, for
+himself, and any friends who might be with him, to pass their
+Christmas Day at Chainmail Hall, after the fashion of the twelfth
+century.  Mr. Crochet had assembled about him, for his own
+Christmas festivities, nearly the same party which was introduced
+to the reader in the spring.  Three of that party were wanting.
+Dr. Morbific, by inoculating himself once too often with non-
+contagious matter, had explained himself out of the world.  Mr.
+Henbane had also departed, on the wings of an infallible antidote.
+Mr. Eavesdrop, having printed in a magazine some of the after-
+dinner conversations of the castle, had had sentence of exclusion
+passed upon him, on the motion of the Reverend Doctor Folliott, as
+a flagitious violator of the confidences of private life.
+
+Miss Crotchet had become Lady Bossnowl, but Lady Clarinda had not
+yet changed her name to Crotchet.  She had, on one pretence and
+another, procrastinated the happy event, and the gentleman had not
+been very pressing; she had, however, accompanied her brother and
+sister-in-law, to pass Christmas at Crotchet Castle.  With these,
+Mr. Mac Quedy, Mr. Philpot, Mr. Trillo, Mr. Skionar, Mr. Toogood,
+and Mr. Firedamp were sitting at breakfast, when the Reverend
+Doctor Folliott entered and took his seat at the table.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Well, Mr. Mac Quedy, it is now some weeks since
+we have met:  how goes on the march of mind?
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Nay, sir; I think you may see that with your own
+eyes.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Sir, I have seen it, much to my discomfiture.
+It has marched into my rickyard, and set my stacks on fire, with
+chemical materials, most scientifically compounded.  It has marched
+up to the door of my vicarage, a hundred and fifty strong; ordered
+me to surrender half my tithes; consumed all the provisions I had
+provided for my audit feast, and drunk up my old October.  It has
+marched in through my back-parlour shutters, and out again with my
+silver spoons, in the dead of the night.  The policeman who has
+been down to examine says my house has been broken open on the most
+scientific principles.  All this comes of education.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  I rather think it comes of poverty.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No, sir.  Robbery, perhaps, comes of poverty,
+but scientific principles of robbery come of education.  I suppose
+the learned friend has written a sixpenny treatise on mechanics,
+and the rascals who robbed me have been reading it.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Your house would have been very safe, Doctor, if
+they had had no better science than the learned friend's to work
+with.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Well, sir, that may be.  Excellent potted char.
+The Lord deliver me from the learned friend.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  Well, Doctor, for your comfort, here is a
+declaration of the learned friend's that he will never take office.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Then, sir, he will be in office next week.
+Peace be with him.  Sugar and cream.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  But, Doctor, are you for Chainmail Hall on Christmas
+Day?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  That am I, for there will be an excellent
+dinner, though, peradventure, grotesquely served.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  I have not seen my neighbour since he left us on the
+canal.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  He has married a wife, and brought her home.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Indeed!  If she suits him, she must be an oddity:
+it will be amusing to see them together.
+
+LORD BOSSNOWL.  Very amusing.  He! He!  Mr. Firedamp.  Is there any
+water about Chainmail Hall?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  An old moat.
+
+MR. FIREDAMP.  I shall die of malaria.
+
+MR. TRILLO.  Shall we have any music?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  An old harper.
+
+MR. TRILLO.  Those fellows are always horridly out of tune.  What
+will he play?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Old songs and marches.
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  Among so many old things, I hope we shall find Old
+Philosophy.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  An old woman.
+
+MR. PHILPOT.  Perhaps an old map of the river in the twelfth
+century.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No doubt.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  How many more old things?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Old hospitality; old wine; old ale; all the
+images of old England; an old butler.
+
+MR. TOOGOOD.  Shall we all be welcome?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Heartily; you will be slapped on the shoulder,
+and called Old Boy.
+
+LORD BOSSNOWL.  I think we should all go in our old clothes.  He!
+He!
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  You will sit on old chairs, round an old table,
+by the light of old lamps, suspended from pointed arches, which,
+Mr. Chainmail says, first came into use in the twelfth century,
+with old armour on the pillars and old banners in the roof.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  And what curious piece of antiquity is the lady of
+the mansion?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No antiquity there; none.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Who was she?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  That I know not.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Have you seen her?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I have.
+
+LADY CLARINDA.  Is she pretty?
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  More,--beautiful.  A subject for the pen of
+Nonnus or the pencil of Zeuxis.  Features of all loveliness,
+radiant with all virtue and intelligence.  A face for Antigone.  A
+form at once plump and symmetrical, that, if it be decorous to
+divine it by externals, would have been a model for the Venus of
+Cnidos.  Never was anything so goodly to look on, the present
+company excepted; and poor dear Mrs. Folliott.  She reads moral
+philosophy, Mr. Mac Quedy, which indeed she might as well let
+alone; she reads Italian poetry, Mr. Skionar; she sings Italian
+music, Mr. Trillo; but, with all this, she has the greatest of
+female virtues, for she superintends the household and looks after
+her husband's dinner.  I believe she was a mountaineer:  [Greek
+text] {1} as Nonnus sweetly sings.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII:  CHAINMAIL HALL
+
+
+
+Vous autres dictes que ignorance est mere de tous maulx, et dictes
+vray:  mais toutesfoys vous ne la bannissez mye de vos entendemens,
+et vivez en elle, avecques elle, et par elle.  C'est pourquoy tant
+de maulx vous meshaignent de jour en jour.--RABELIAS, 1. 5. c. 7.
+
+The party which was assembled on Christmas Day in Chainmail Hall
+comprised all the guests of Crotchet Castle, some of Mr.
+Chainmail's other neighbours, all his tenants and domestics, and
+Captain Fitzchrome.  The hall was spacious and lofty; and with its
+tall fluted pillars and pointed arches, its windows of stained
+glass, its display of arms and banners intermingled with holly and
+mistletoe, its blazing cressets and torches, and a stupendous fire
+in the centre, on which blocks of pine were flaming and crackling,
+had a striking effect on eyes unaccustomed to such a dining-room.
+The fire was open on all sides, and the smoke was caught and
+carried back under a funnel-formed canopy into a hollow central
+pillar.  This fire was the line of demarcation between gentle and
+simple on days of high festival.  Tables extended from it on two
+sides to nearly the end of the hall.
+
+Mrs. Chainmail was introduced to the company.  Young Crotchet felt
+some revulsion of feeling at the unexpected sight of one whom he
+had forsaken, but not forgotten, in a condition apparently so much
+happier than his own.  The lady held out her hand to him with a
+cordial look of more than forgiveness; it seemed to say that she
+had much to thank him for.  She was the picture of a happy bride,
+rayonnante de joie et d'amour.
+
+Mr. Crotchet told the Reverend Doctor Folliott the news of the
+morning.  "As you predicted," he said, "your friend, the learned
+friend, is in office; he has also a title; he is now Sir Guy de
+Vaux."
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Thank heaven for that! he is disarmed from
+further mischief.  It is something, at any rate, to have that
+hollow and wind-shaken reed rooted up for ever from the field of
+public delusion.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  I suppose, Doctor, you do not like to see a great
+reformer in office; you are afraid for your vested interests.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Not I, indeed, sir; my vested interests are
+very safe from all such reformers as the learned friend.  I
+vaticinate what will be the upshot of all his schemes of reform.
+He will make a speech of seven hours' duration, and this will be
+its quintessence:  that, seeing the exceeding difficulty of putting
+salt on the bird's tail, it will be expedient to consider the best
+method of throwing dust in the bird's eyes.  All the rest will be
+
+
+[Greek text in verse]
+
+
+as Aristophanes has it; and so I leave him, in Nephelococcygia.
+
+Mr. Mac Quedy came up to the divine as Mr. Crotchet left him, and
+said:  "There is one piece of news which the old gentleman has not
+told you.  The great firm of Catchflat and Company, in which young
+Crotchet is a partner, has stopped payment."
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Bless me! that accounts for the young
+gentleman's melancholy.  I thought they would overreach themselves
+with their own tricks.  The day of reckoning, Mr. Mac Quedy, is the
+point which your paper-money science always leaves out of view.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  I do not see, sir, that the failure of Catchflat
+and Company has anything to do with my science.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  It has this to do with it, sir, that you would
+turn the whole nation into a great paper-money shop, and take no
+thought of the day of reckoning.  But the dinner is coming.  I
+think you, who are so fond of paper promises, should dine on the
+bill of fare.
+
+The harper at the head of the hall struck up an ancient march, and
+the dishes were brought in, in grand procession.
+
+The boar's head, garnished with rosemary, with a citron in its
+mouth, led the van.  Then came tureens of plum-porridge; then a
+series of turkeys, and in the midst of them an enormous sausage,
+which it required two men to carry.  Then came geese and capons,
+tongues and hams, the ancient glory of the Christmas pie, a
+gigantic plum pudding, a pyramid of mince pies, and a baron of beef
+bringing up the rear.
+
+"It is something new under the sun," said the divine, as he sat
+down, "to see a great dinner without fish."
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Fish was for fasts in the twelfth century.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Well, sir, I prefer our reformed system of
+putting fasts and feasts together.  Not but here is ample
+indemnity.
+
+Ale and wine flowed in abundance.  The dinner passed off merrily:
+the old harper playing all the while the oldest music in his
+repertory.  The tables being cleared, he indemnified himself for
+lost time at the lower end of the hall, in company with the old
+butler and the other domestics, whose attendance on the banquet had
+been indispensable.
+
+The scheme of Christmas gambols, which Mr. Chainmail had laid for
+the evening, was interrupted by a tremendous clamour without.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  What have we here?  Mummers?
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Nay, I know not.  I expect none.
+
+"Who is there?" he added, approaching the door of the hall.
+
+"Who is there?" vociferated the divine, with the voice of Stentor.
+
+"Captain Swing," replied a chorus of discordant voices.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Ho, ho! here is a piece of the dark ages we did
+not bargain for.  Here is the Jacquerie.  Here is the march of mind
+with a witness.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Do you not see that you have brought disparates
+together? the Jacquerie and the march of mind.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Not at all, sir.  They are the same thing,
+under different names.  [Greek text].  What was Jacquerie in the
+dark ages is the march of mind in this very enlightened one--very
+enlightened one.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  The cause is the same in both; poverty in despair.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Very likely; but the effect is extremely
+disagreeable.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  It is the natural result, Mr. Mac Quedy, of
+that system of state seamanship which your science upholds.
+Putting the crew on short allowance, and doubling the rations of
+the officers, is the sure way to make a mutiny on board a ship in
+distress, Mr. Mac Quedy.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Eh! sir, I uphold no such system as that.  I shall
+set you right as to cause and effect.  Discontent arises with the
+increase of information.  That is all.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I said it was the march of mind.  But we have
+not time for discussing cause and effect now.  Let us get rid of
+the enemy.
+
+And he vociferated at the top of his voice, "What do you want
+here?"  "Arms, arms," replied a hundred voices, "Give us the arms."
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  You see, Mr. Chainmail, this is the
+inconvenience of keeping an armoury not fortified with sand bags,
+green bags, and old bags of all kinds.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Just give them the old spits and toasting irons,
+and they will go away quietly.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  My spears and swords! not without my life.  These
+assailants are all aliens to my land and house.  My men will fight
+for me, one and all.  This is the fortress of beef and ale.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Eh! sir, when the rabble is up, it is very
+indiscriminating.  You are e'en suffering for the sins of Sir Simon
+Steeltrap and the like, who have pushed the principle of
+accumulation a little too far.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  The way to keep the people down is kind and liberal
+usage.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  That is very well (where it can be afforded) in the
+way of prevention; but in the way of cure the operation must be
+more drastic.  (Taking down a battle-axe.)  I would fain have a
+good blunderbuss charged with slugs.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  When I suspended these arms for ornament, I never
+dreamed of their being called into use.
+
+MR. SKIONAR.  Let me address them.  I never failed to convince an
+audience that the best thing they could do was to go away.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Eh! sir, I can bring them to that conclusion in
+less time than you.
+
+MR. CROTCHET.  I have no fancy for fighting.  It is a very hard
+case upon a guest, when the latter end of a feast is the beginning
+of a fray.
+
+MR. MAC QUEDY.  Give them the old iron.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Give them the weapons!  Pessimo, medius fidius,
+exemplo.  Forbid it the spirit of Frere Jean des Entommeures!  No!
+let us see what the church militant, in the armour of the twelfth
+century, will do against the march of mind.  Follow me who will,
+and stay who list.  Here goes:  Pro aris et focis! that is, for
+tithe pigs and fires to roast them.
+
+He clapped a helmet on his head, seized a long lance, threw open
+the gates, and tilted out on the rabble, side by side with Mr.
+Chainmail, followed by the greater portion of the male inmates of
+the hall, who had armed themselves at random.
+
+The rabble-rout, being unprepared for such a sortie, fled in all
+directions, over hedge and ditch.
+
+Mr. Trillo stayed in the hall, playing a march on the harp, to
+inspirit the rest to sally out.  The water-loving Mr. Philpot had
+diluted himself with so much wine as to be quite hors de combat.
+Mr. Toogood, intending to equip himself in purely defensive armour,
+contrived to slip a ponderous coat of mail over his shoulders,
+which pinioned his arms to his sides; and in this condition, like a
+chicken trussed for roasting, he was thrown down behind a pillar in
+the first rush of the sortie.  Mr. Crotchet seized the occurrence
+as a pretext for staying with him, and passed the whole time of the
+action in picking him out of his shell.
+
+"Phew!" said the divine, returning; "an inglorious victory; but it
+deserves a devil and a bowl of punch."
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  A wassail-bowl.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No, sir.  No more of the twelfth century for
+me.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Nay, Doctor.  The twelfth century has backed you
+well.  Its manners and habits, its community of kind feelings
+between master and man, are the true remedy for these ebullitions.
+
+MR. TOOGOOD.  Something like it:  improved by my diagram:  arts for
+arms.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  No wassail-bowl for me.  Give me an
+unsophisticated bowl of punch, which belongs to that blissful
+middle period, after the Jacquerie was down, and before the march
+of mind was up.  But, see, who is floundering in the water?
+
+Proceeding to the edge of the moat, they fished up Mr. Firedamp,
+who had missed his way back, and tumbled in.  He was drawn out,
+exclaiming, "that he had taken his last dose of malaria in this
+world."
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Tut, man; dry clothes, a turkey's leg and rump,
+well devilled, and a quart of strong punch, will set all to rights.
+
+"Wood embers," said Mr. Firedamp, when he had been accommodated
+with a change of clothes, "there is no antidote to malaria like the
+smoke of wood embers; pine embers."  And he placed himself, with
+his mouth open, close by the fire.
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  Punch, sir, punch:  there is no antidote like
+punch.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  Well, Doctor, you shall be indulged.  But I shall
+have my wassail-bowl, nevertheless.
+
+An immense bowl of spiced wine, with roasted apples hissing on its
+surface, was borne into the hall by four men, followed by an empty
+bowl of the same dimensions, with all the materials of arrack
+punch, for the divine's especial brewage.  He accinged himself to
+the task with his usual heroism, and having finished it to his
+entire satisfaction, reminded his host to order in the devil
+
+REV. DR. FOLLIOTT.  I think, Mr. Chainmail, we can amuse ourselves
+very well here all night.  The enemy may be still excubant:  and we
+had better not disperse till daylight.  I am perfectly satisfied
+with my quarters.  Let the young folk go on with their gambols; let
+them dance to your old harper's minstrelsy; and if they please to
+kiss under the mistletoe, whereof I espy a goodly bunch suspended
+at the end of the hall, let those who like it not leave it to those
+who do.  Moreover, if among the more sedate portion of the
+assembly, which, I foresee, will keep me company, there were any to
+revive the good old custom of singing after supper, so to fill up
+the intervals of the dances, the steps of night would move more
+lightly.
+
+MR. CHAINMAIL.  My Susan will set the example, after she has set
+that of joining in the rustic dance, according to good customs long
+departed.
+
+After the first dance, in which all classes of the company mingled,
+the young lady of the mansion took her harp, and following the
+reverend gentleman's suggestion, sang a song of the twelfth
+century.
+
+
+FLORENCE AND BLANCHFLOR.
+
+Florence and Blanchflor, loveliest maids,
+Within a summer grove,
+Amid the flower-enamelled shades
+Together talked of love.
+
+A clerk sweet Blanchflor's heart had gain'd;
+Fair Florence loved a knight:
+And each with ardent voice maintained
+She loved the worthiest wight.
+
+Sweet Blanchflor praised her scholar dear,
+As courteous, kind, and true!
+Fair Florence said her chevalier
+Could every foe subdue.
+
+And Florence scorned the bookworm vain,
+Who sword nor spear could raise;
+And Blanchflor scorned the unlettered brain
+Could sing no lady's praise.
+
+From dearest love, the maidens bright
+To deadly hatred fell,
+Each turned to shun the other's sight,
+And neither said farewell.
+
+The king of birds, who held his court
+Within that flowery grove,
+Sang loudly:  "'Twill be rare disport
+To judge this suit of love."
+
+Before him came the maidens bright,
+With all his birds around,
+To judge the cause, if clerk or knight
+In love be worthiest found.
+
+The falcon and the sparrow-hawk
+Stood forward for the fight:
+Ready to do, and not to talk,
+They voted for the knight.
+
+And Blanchflor's heart began to fail,
+Till rose the strong-voiced lark,
+And, after him, the nightingale,
+And pleaded for the clerk.
+
+The nightingale prevailed at length,
+Her pleading had such charms;
+So eloquence can conquer strength,
+And arts can conquer arms.
+
+The lovely Florence tore her hair,
+And died upon the place;
+And all the birds assembled there
+Bewailed the mournful case.
+
+They piled up leaves and flowerets rare
+Above the maiden bright,
+And sang:  "Farewell to Florence fair,
+Who too well loved her knight."
+
+
+Several others of the party sang in the intervals of the dances.
+Mr. Chainmail handed to Mr. Trillo another ballad of the twelfth
+century, of a merrier character than the former.  Mr. Trillo
+readily accommodated it with an air, and sang:
+
+
+THE PRIEST AND THE MULBERRY TREE.
+
+Did you hear of the curate who mounted his mare,
+And merrily trotted along to the fair?
+Of creature more tractable none ever heard;
+In the height of her speed she would stop at a word,
+And again with a word, when the curate said Hey,
+She put forth her mettle, and galloped away.
+
+As near to the gates of the city he rode,
+While the sun of September all brilliantly glowed,
+The good priest discovered, with eyes of desire,
+A mulberry tree in a hedge of wild briar,
+On boughs long and lofty, in many a green shoot,
+Hung large, black, and glossy, the beautiful fruit.
+
+The curate was hungry, and thirsty to boot;
+He shrunk from the thorns, though he longed for the fruit;
+With a word he arrested his courser's keen speed,
+And he stood up erect on the back of his steed;
+On the saddle he stood, while the creature stood still,
+And he gathered the fruit, till he took his good fill.
+
+"Sure never," he thought, "was a creature so rare,
+So docile, so true, as my excellent mare.
+Lo, here, how I stand" (and he gazed all around),
+"As safe and as steady as if on the ground,
+Yet how had it been, if some traveller this way,
+Had, dreaming no mischief, but chanced to cry Hey?"
+
+He stood with his head in the mulberry tree,
+And he spoke out aloud in his fond reverie.
+At the sound of the word, the good mare made a push,
+And down went the priest in the wild-briar bush.
+He remembered too late, on his thorny green bed,
+Much that well may be thought cannot wisely be said.
+
+
+Lady Clarinda, being prevailed on to take the harp in her turn,
+sang the following stanzas.
+
+
+In the days of old,
+Lovers felt true passion,
+Deeming years of sorrow
+By a smile repaid.
+Now the charms of gold,
+Spells of pride and fashion,
+Bid them say good morrow
+To the best-loved maid.
+
+Through the forests wild,
+O'er the mountains lonely,
+They were never weary
+Honour to pursue.
+If the damsel smiled
+Once in seven years only,
+All their wanderings dreary
+Ample guerdon knew.
+
+Now one day's caprice
+Weighs down years of smiling,
+Youthful hearts are rovers,
+Love is bought and sold:
+Fortune's gifts may cease,
+Love is less beguiling;
+Wisest were the lovers
+In the days of old.
+
+
+The glance which she threw at the captain, as she sang the last
+verse, awakened his dormant hopes.  Looking round for his rival, he
+saw that he was not in the hall; and, approaching the lady of his
+heart, he received one of the sweetest smiles of their earlier
+days.
+
+After a time, the ladies, and all the females of the party,
+retired.  The males remained on duty with punch and wassail, and
+dropped off one by one into sweet forgetfulness; so that when the
+rising sun of December looked through the painted windows on
+mouldering embers and flickering lamps, the vaulted roof was
+echoing to a mellifluous concert of noses, from the clarionet of
+the waiting-boy at one end of the hall, to the double bass of the
+Reverend Doctor, ringing over the empty punch-bowl, at the other.
+
+
+
+CONCLUSION
+
+
+
+From this eventful night, young Crotchet was seen no more on
+English mould.  Whither he had vanished was a question that could
+no more be answered in his case than in that of King Arthur after
+the battle of Camlan.  The great firm of Catchflat and Company
+figured in the Gazette, and paid sixpence in the pound; and it was
+clear that he had shrunk from exhibiting himself on the scene of
+his former greatness, shorn of the beams of his paper prosperity.
+Some supposed him to be sleeping among the undiscoverable secrets
+of some barbel-pool in the Thames; but those who knew him best were
+more inclined to the opinion that he had gone across the Atlantic,
+with his pockets full of surplus capital, to join his old
+acquaintance, Mr. Touchandgo, in the bank of Dotandcarryonetown.
+
+Lady Clarinda was more sorry for her father's disappointment than
+her own; but she had too much pride to allow herself to be put up a
+second time in the money-market; and when the Captain renewed his
+assiduities, her old partiality for him, combining with a sense of
+gratitude for a degree of constancy which she knew she scarcely
+deserved, induced her, with Lord Foolincourt's hard-wrung consent,
+to share with him a more humble, but less precarious fortune, than
+that to which she had been destined as the price of a rotten
+borough.
+
+
+
+Footnotes:
+
+{1}  A mountain-wandering maid,
+Twin-nourished with the solitary wood.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext Crotchet Castle, by Thomas Love Peacock
+
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