diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2075-0.txt | 4810 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2075-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 94859 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2075-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 191493 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2075-h/2075-h.htm | 4846 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2075-h/images/tpb.jpg | bin | 0 -> 83900 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2075-h/images/tps.jpg | bin | 0 -> 10557 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/ccstl10.txt | 4929 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/ccstl10.zip | bin | 0 -> 90899 bytes |
11 files changed, 14601 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2075-0.txt b/2075-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd5f928 --- /dev/null +++ b/2075-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4810 @@ +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. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROTCHET CASTLE*** + + +******* This file should be named 2075-0.txt or 2075-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/7/2075 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive +specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this +eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook +for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, +performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given +away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks +not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the +trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the +person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph +1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the +Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country outside the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work +on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + 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. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format +other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain +Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +provided that + +* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation." + +* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm + works. + +* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + +* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The +Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at +www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the +mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its +volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous +locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt +Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to +date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and +official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular +state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/2075-0.zip b/2075-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9abc77b --- /dev/null +++ b/2075-0.zip diff --git a/2075-h.zip b/2075-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..472bfae --- /dev/null +++ b/2075-h.zip diff --git a/2075-h/2075-h.htm b/2075-h/2075-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aa51ca1 --- /dev/null +++ b/2075-h/2075-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4846 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Crotchet Castle, by Thomas Love Peacock</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +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 & Company edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY.</span></p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<h1>CROTCHET CASTLE</h1> + +<div class="gapspace"> </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 & 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 & +MELBOURNE</i></span><span class="GutSmall">.</span><br /> +1887.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Love Peacock</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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,—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>. I wad full fain hear +some question ’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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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 “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.</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. 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.</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’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.</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. 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.</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’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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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.—<span +class="smcap">Butler</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“<span class="smcap">God</span> 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 +<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. 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.”</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. 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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—Sir, I will thank you for +a leg of that capon.</p> +<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.—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—</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.—Sir, you seem to make very light of +science.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.—Now really that would be too +severe: my cook should read nothing but Ude.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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. +<i>Horresco referens</i>. An elegant supper. +<i>Dî meliora piis</i>. 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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—The “Gentle +Shepherd”! It is just as much a comedy as the Book of +Job.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—He wants the two great +requisites of head and tail.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—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>.—Well, sir, I have no notion of +logic obscuring a question.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.—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>.—<i>Alter erit tum +Tiphys</i>, <i>et altera quæ vehat Argo Delectos +Heroas</i>. 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>.—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>.—If you are one of the +party, sir, it most assuredly will not: Ha! ha!</p> +<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.—Pray sir, what do you mean by Ha! +ha!?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Precisely, sir, what you +mean by He! he!</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</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 ’hem yeve I faithe and full credence,<br /> +And in mine herte have ’hem in reverence,<br /> +So hertily, that there is gamé 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. 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.”</p> +<p><i>The Stranger</i>.—A pleasant association, sir, and a +liberal and discriminating hospitality. This is an old +British camp, I believe, sir?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Roman, sir; Roman; +undeniably Roman. The vallum is past controversy. 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. 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>.—I beg your pardon, sir; do I +understand this place to be your property?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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>.—Good and respectable, sir, I take +it, means rich?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—That is their meaning, +sir.</p> +<p><i>The Stranger</i>.—I understand the owner to be a Mr. +Crotchet. He has a handsome daughter, I am told.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>The Stranger</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—A hero, sir, in his +line. Never did angler in September hook more gudgeons.</p> +<p><i>The Stranger</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Stranger</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Stranger</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—How old, think you, may the tree +be?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—I have records which show it to be +three hundred years old.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—What is civilisation?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—It is just respect for +property. A state in which no man takes wrongfully what +belongs to another, is a perfectly civilised state.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—Your friend’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>.—It is a question of degree. +There is more respect for property here than in Angola.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—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. 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. 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 “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.</p> +<p>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.</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>.—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>.—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?</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Oh, Lady Clarinda! there is a +heartlessness in that language that chills me to the soul.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—True, but you did not then +talk as you do now, of love in a castle.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—You always delighted in +trying to provoke me; but I cannot believe that you have not a +heart.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Angry! far from it; I am +perfectly cool.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Now, I am sure you are not in +earnest. You cannot adopt such sentiments in their naked +deformity.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>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.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE PARTY.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>En quoi cognoissez-vous la folie anticque? +En quoi cognoissez-vous la sagesse présente?—<span +class="smcap">Rabelais</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“<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,” 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 +<i>bien-séance</i>, 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 <i>brusquerie</i>, secured his position.</p> +<p>“Well, Captain,” said Lady Clarinda, “I +perceive you can still manœuvre.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“There is fine music, as Rabelais observes, in the +<i>cliquetis d’asssiettes</i>, a refreshing shade in the +<i>ombre de salle à manger</i>, and an elegant fragrance +in the <i>fumée de rôti</i>,” 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.</p> +<p>“Lady Clarinda,” said the Captain, “is a +very pleasant young lady.”</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—So she is, sir: and I +understand she has all the wit of the family to herself, whatever +that <i>totum</i> may be. But a glass of wine after soup +is, as the French say, the <i>verre de santé</i>. +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?</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—With pleasure.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Here is a very fine salmon +before me: and May is the very <i>point nommé</i> 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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—That salmon before you, doctor, was +caught in the Thames, this morning.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. +Folliott</i>.—Παπαπαῖ! +Rarity of rarities! A Thames salmon caught this +morning. Now, Mr. Mac Quedy, even in fish your Modern +Athens must yield. <i>Cedite Graii</i>.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—Sir, I will take a glass +of Hock with you.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—With all my heart, sir. +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. Locality and +education make all the difference.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Education! 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>. +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 <i>salmo salar</i> 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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—If that be the point of truth, very +few intellectual noses point due north.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Only those that point to the +Modern Athens.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Where all native noses +point southward.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Eh, sir, northward for wisdom, and +southward for profit.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i> Champagne, doctor?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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 +<i>compotator</i> 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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Nay, sir, beyond lobster-sauce, I +take it, ye cannot go.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—Sir, I must drown my +inadvertence in a glass of Sauterne with you. There is a +set of gentlemen in your city—</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Hermitage, doctor?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—No doubt of it, even if your +character of them were true to the letter.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—No, sir, education makes the man, +powers, purposes, and all.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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 imputé a honte plus que médiocre +être 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>).—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 +<i>illuminés</i>. 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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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—</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—I shall discuss that point +with Mr. Mac Quedy.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—Not a word for your life. +Our flirtation is our own secret. Let it remain so.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Flirtation, Clarinda! +Is that all that the most ardent—</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Then, I say, he is the wiser +man.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Any philosophy, for +Heaven’s sake, but the pound-shilling-and-pence philosophy +of Mr. Mac Quedy.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—I do not fancy these +virtue-spyers.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—That will be something new, +at any rate.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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>.—He is the strangest of the +set, so far.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—This brings us to the bottom of +the table, where sits my humble servant, Mr. Crotchet the +younger. I ought not to describe him.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—I entreat you do.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—Well, I really have very little to +say in his favour.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—I do not wish to hear +anything in his favour; and I rejoice to hear you say so, +because—</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—I cannot believe, that, +speaking thus of him, you mean to take him at all.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—She must have a strange +taste, if she pines for the loss of him.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—You can expect no security +with such an adventurer.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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. He is almost +always dreaming and <i>distrait</i>. 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>.—You torture me, Clarinda, +with the bare possibility.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—That is a very pleasant fancy +at any rate.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—This is the strangest fellow +of all.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—How does he settle matters +with Mr. Firedamp?</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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>.—It was rather ill-judged in Mr. +Crotchet to invite him to-day. But the art of assorting +company is above these <i>parvenus</i>. 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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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>.—Time will show, sir. And now +we have gone the round of the table.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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>.—Well, I will tell you a secret: I +am writing a novel.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—A novel!</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Surely you have not done +so?</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—Oh, no! I leave that to Mr. +Eavesdrop. But Mr. Puffall made it a condition that I +should let him say so.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—A strange recommendation.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Truly, the praise of such +gentry must be a feather in any one’s cap.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—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.</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’s noddle.—<span +class="smcap">Butler</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Meanwhile</span>, the last course, and the +dessert, passed by. When the ladies had withdrawn, young +Crotchet addressed the company.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i> 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>.—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—”</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Pray, Mr. Mac Quedy, how +is it that all gentlemen of your nation begin everything they +write with the “infancy of society?”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.—”</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—I will not say any such +thing.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Well, say any percentage you +please.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—I will not say any +percentage at all.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—“On the principle of the +division of labour—”</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Government was invented to +spend a percentage.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—To save a percentage.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—“In the infancy of +society—”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—Before we proceed to the question of +government, we must nicely discriminate the boundaries of sense, +understanding, and reason. Sense is a +receptivity—</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—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>.—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>.—I hate lectures over the +bottle. But pray, sir, what is political economy?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Political economy is to the state +what domestic economy is to the family.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—No such thing, sir. +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. In the state it is all hunger at one end, and all +surfeit at the other. Matchless claret, Mr. Crotchet.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Vintage of fifteen, Doctor.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—The family consumes, and so does +the state.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Consumes, air! Yes: +but the mode, the proportions: there is the essential difference +between the state and the family. Sir, I hate false +analogies.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Well, sir, the analogy is not +essential. Distribution will come under its proper +head.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Come where it will, the +distribution of the state is in no respect analogous to the +distribution of the family. The <i>paterfamilias</i>, sir: +the <i>paterfamilias</i>.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Well, sir, let that pass. +The family consumes, and in order to consume, it must have +supply.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Well, sir, Adam and Eve +knew that, when they delved and span.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Very true, sir (reproducing his +scroll). “In the infancy of society—”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.—The reverend gentleman has hit the +nail on the head. It is the distribution that must be +looked to; it is the <i>paterfamilias</i> that is wanting in the +State. Now here I have provided him. (Reproducing his +diagram.)</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—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.)</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—No, sir, build <i>sacella</i> for +transcendental oracles to teach the world how to see through a +glass darkly. (Producing a scroll.)</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—See through an opera-glass +brightly.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.)</p> +<p><i>Omnes</i>.—No sermon! No sermon!</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Then I move that our +respective papers be committed to our respective pockets.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Political economy is divided into +two great branches, production and consumption.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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 +<i>fruges consumere nati</i> 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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Very true, sir; the +pleasantry and the obscurity go together; they are all one, as it +were—to me at any rate (aside).</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Now, sir—</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Well, sir, in the meantime I hold +my science established.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—And I hold it +demolished.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i> Pray, gentlemen, pocket +your manuscripts, fill your glasses, and consider what we shall +do with our money.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Build lecture-rooms, and schools +for all.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—Revive the Athenian theatre; +regenerate the lyrical drama.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.—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>.—Drain the country, and get rid of +malaria, by abolishing duck-ponds.</p> +<p><i>Dr. Morbific</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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>.—How, sir? my invaluable, and, in the +present state of human knowledge, infallible poison?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Let the frogs have all the +advantage of it.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Consider, Doctor, the fish might +participate. Think of the salmon.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Then let the owner’s +right-hand neighbour swallow it.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Eavesdrop</i>.—Me, sir! What have I done, +sir, that I am to be poisoned, sir?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Eavesdrop</i>.—Sir, it is all good-humoured; all +in <i>bonhomie</i>: all friendly and complimentary.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Sir, the bottle, <i>la +Dive Bouteille</i>, 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. <i>Fiat experimentum in animâ +vili</i>.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Eavesdrop</i>.—Sir, you are very facetious at my +expense.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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 <i>argumentum baculinum</i>. 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>.—Your cloth protects you, sir.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—My bamboo shall protect +me, sir.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Doctor, Doctor, you are growing too +polemical.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Sir, my blood boils. +What business have the public with my nose and wig?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Doctor! Doctor!</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i> Pray, gentlemen, return +to the point. How shall we employ our fund?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Philpot</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>, <i>jun.</i>—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>.—That is my scheme. I have +not heard a scheme but my own that has a grain of common +sense.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—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.</p> +<blockquote><p> After careful +meditation,<br /> + And profound deliberation,<br /> +On the various pretty projects which have just been shown,<br /> + Not a scheme in agitation,<br /> + For the world’s +amelioration,<br /> +Has a grain of common sense in it, except my own.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Several Voices</i>.—We are not disposed to join in +any such chorus.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—I, sir? oh! of course, +sir.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Surely, Captain, I rely on you to +uphold political economy.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Me, sir! oh, to be sure, +sir.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Pray, sir, will political +economy uphold the Athenian theatre?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Surely not. It would be a +very unproductive investment.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—But the ladies, sir, the ladies.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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>.—But, sir, you will shut me out of my +own theatre. Let there at least be a double passport, Greek +and Italian.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—No, sir; I am +inexorable. No Greek, no theatre.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—Sir, I cannot consent to be shut out +from my own theatre.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Nay, by no means. We are all +agreed on deliberative dinners.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—Well, gentlemen, I hope this chorus +at least will please you:—</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’ll sit till day, but we’ll find the way<br /> +To drench the world with wine.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The schemes for the world’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’er saw so profane a show.—<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. 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.</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>. 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.</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. 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.</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. 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’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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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 <i>adytum</i> 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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Venus, sir; nothing more, sir; just +Venus.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—May I ask you, sir, why +they are there?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Very true, sir. As +great philosophers hold that the <i>esse</i> of things is +<i>percipi</i>, 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 <i>ennui</i>, if +<i>ennui</i> should come upon you. 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. 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 +<i>paterfamilias</i>, 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?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Why, in that sense, +perhaps, it is as delicate as whitebait in July. But the +attitude, sir, the attitude.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Nothing can be more natural, +sir.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Very likely, sir. 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>.—Fool, sir, is a harsh +term: call not thy brother a fool.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Sir, neither the cheesemonger nor +the justice is a brother of mine.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Sir, we are all +brethren.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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>.—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.”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Well, sir?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Then, sir, let the multitude look +upon them and learn modesty.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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>.—Two very different +persons, sir, give me leave to remark.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Very likely, sir; but both too good +to be married in Athens.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Sir, Lais was a +Corinthian.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Od’s vengeance, sir, some +Aspasia and any other Athenian name of the same sort of person +you like—</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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.”</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Bless my soul, sir!</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Give me leave, sir. +Diderot—</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Who was he, sir?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Who was he, sir? the sublime +philosopher, the father of the Encyclopædia, of all the +encyclopædias that have ever been printed.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Bless me, sir, a terrible +progeny: they belong to the tribe of Incubi.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—The great philosopher, +Diderot—</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Sir, Diderot is not a man +after my heart. Keep to the Greeks, if you please; albeit +this Sleeping Venus is not an antique.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Sir, I deny our greater +knowledge of anatomy. But I shall take the liberty to +employ, on this occasion, the <i>argumentum ad hominem</i>. +Would you have allowed Miss Crotchet to sit for a model to +Canova?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Yes, sir.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SCIENCE AND CHARITY.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Chi sta nel mondo un par d’ore contento,<br +/> +Nè 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’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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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 +<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>Frère 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. Phew! I have a +noble thirst upon me, which I will quench with floods of +tea.”</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>“The Charity Commissioners!” exclaimed the +reverend gentleman, “who on earth are they?”</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. +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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.—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>.—Hautbois! Hautbois!</p> +<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.—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>). How is this, Mr. Bluenose?</p> +<p><i>First Churchwarden</i>.—I really do not know, +sir. What say you, Mr. Appletwig?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Appletwig</i> (<i>parish clerk and schoolmaster</i>; +<i>an old man</i>). 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>.—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>.—Very well, sir.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Appletwig</i>.—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>unâ voce</i>). +The minister!</p> +<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.—This is an unjustifiable +proceeding.</p> +<p><i>Second Commissioner</i>.—A misappropriation of a +public fund.</p> +<p><i>Third Commissioner</i>.—A flagrant perversion of a +charitable donation.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—God bless my soul, +gentlemen! I know nothing of this matter. How is +this, Mr. Bluenose? Do I receive this one pound per +annum?</p> +<p><i>First Churchwarden</i>.—Really, sir, I know no more +about it than you do.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Appletwig</i>.—You certainly receive it, +sir. It was voted to one of your predecessors. Farmer +Seedling lumps it in with his tithes.</p> +<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.—Lumps it in, sir! Lump +in a charitable donation!</p> +<p><i>Second and Third Commissioner</i>.—Oh-oh-oh-h-h!</p> +<p><i>First Commissioner</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Milky</i> (<i>writing</i>). The clergyman and +church-wardens of the village of Hm-ra-m-m- gravely +admonished. Hm-m-m-m.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Is that all, +gentlemen?</p> +<p><i>The Commissioners</i>.—That is all, sir; and we wish +you a good morning.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—A very good morning to +you, gentlemen.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Appletwig</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</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>Οἰ μέν +ἔπειτ’ +ἀναβάτες +ἐπέπλον +ὑγρὰ +κέλευθα.</p> +<p>Mounting the bark, they cleft the watery ways.—<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. 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.</p> +<p>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, <i>Quorsum pertinuit stipere Platona +Menandro</i>? 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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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; <i>totus teres atque +rotundus</i>. 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.</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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—What enchanter is +that? There are two enchanters: he of the north, and he of +the south.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—Rossini!</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—Surely you do not class literature +with pantomime?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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 +<i>nuspiam</i>, <i>nequaquam</i>, <i>nullibi</i>, +<i>nullimodis</i>.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—Very amusing, however.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Very amusing, very +amusing.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—My quarrel with the northern +enchanter is, that he has grossly misrepresented the twelfth +century.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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 <i>fiscality</i>, which has brought them +to that dismal degradation in which we see them now. And +there are the people of the twelfth century.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—If A., being aggrieved by B., +knocks down C., do you call that standing on the defensive?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—That depends on who or what C. +is.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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. 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 <i>me judice</i>, 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.</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>.—<span +class="smcap">Rabelais</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“<span class="smcap">There</span> 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.”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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. 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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Let him who loves them +read Greek: Greek, Greek, Greek.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—If he can, sir.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p>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.</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>. We must therefore content ourselves with +an <i>échantillon</i> of one of the Reverend +Doctor’s perorations.</p> +<p>“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 <i>politicæ +æconomiæ inscientia</i>, tumbles to +pieces.”</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—to which “something much better” 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—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, <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. 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.</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—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.”</p> +<p>The Captain had <i>le cœur navré</i>. 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. 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 <i>Atropa Belladonna</i>, 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.</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>“Base is the slave that +pays.”—<span class="smcap">Ancient Pistol</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> 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.</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">“<i>Dotandcarryonetown</i>, <i>State of +Apodidraskiana</i>.<br /> +“<i>April</i> 1, 18..</p> +<p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Child</span>,</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“I hope you adhere to your music, though I cannot hope +again to accompany your harp with my flute. My last +<i>andante</i> movement was too <i>forte</i> for those whom it +took by surprise. Let not your <i>allegro vivace</i> 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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“<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">“Timothy +Touchandgo</span>.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<i>Dotandcarryonetown</i>, +<i>etc.</i></p> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss</span>,</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“Dear Miss, your dutiful +servant,<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Roderick Robthetill</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Miss Touchandgo replied as follows to the first of these +letters:</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">My Dear +Father</span>,</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">“Your loving daughter,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span class="smcap">Susannah +Touchandgo</span>.</p> +<p>“P.S.—Tell Mr. Robthetill I will write to him in a +day or two. This is the little song I spoke of:</p> +<p>“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>“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>“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.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE MOUNTAIN INN.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Ως ἡδὺ +τῴ μισοῦτι +τοὺς +φαύλους +πρόπους<br /> +’Ερημία.</p> +<p>How sweet to minds that love not sordid ways<br /> +Is solitude!—<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. 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. 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. 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.</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. 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.”</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Hearts are not now what they +were in the days of the old song: “Will love be controlled +by advice?”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—We do not now break lances +for ladies.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—No; nor even bulrushes. We +jingle purses for them, flourish paper-money banners, and tilt +with scrolls of parchment.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—In which sort of tilting I +have been thrown from the saddle. I presume it was not love +that led you from the flotilla?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—I understand you live <i>en +famille</i> 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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—I see, like some others of my +friends, you will give up anything except your hobby.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—I will give up anything but my +baronial hall.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—You will never find a wife +for your purpose, unless in the daughter of some old-fashioned +farmer.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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.</p> +<p>The proposal pleased Mr. Chainmail, and they set forth on +their expedition.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE LAKE—THE RUIN.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Or vieni, Amore, e quà meco +t’assetta.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Orlando +Innamorato</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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>.—Nothing, in my present frame +of mind, could be more agreeable to me.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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>.—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. 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</p> +<blockquote><p>—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. 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.</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. 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 +<i>recherchée</i>, in its arrangement something more of +elegance and precision, than was common to the mountain peasant +girl. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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.</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.—<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. About the time of her father’s downfall, +accident threw into her way <i>Les Réveries du Promeneur +Solitaire</i>; 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE FARM.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Da ydyw’r gwaith, rhaid d’we’yd +y gwir,<br /> +Ar fryniau Sir Meirionydd;<br /> +Golwg oer o’r gwaela gawn<br /> +Mae hi etto yn llawn llawenydd.</p> +<p>Though Meirion’s rocks, and hills of heath,<br /> + Repel the distant sight,<br /> +Yet where, than those bleak hills beneath,<br /> + Is found more true delight?</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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, <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. 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’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 <i>Camilla</i>: “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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE NEWSPAPER.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Ποίας δ’ + +ἀποσπασθεῖσα +φύτλυς<br /> +’Ορέων +κευθμῶνας +ἔχει +σκιοέντων;</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. 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. 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. 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. 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>.—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>.—Undoubtedly this +neighbourhood has many attractions; but there is something very +inviting in the scheme you laid down.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—What! while I have been +away?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—Even so.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—The plunge must have been +very sudden, if you are already over head and ears.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—As deep as +Llyn-y-dreiddiad-vrawd.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—And what may that be?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</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’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, “Hold, father, here’s +store,<br /> +For the good of the church, and the good of the poor;”<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’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 /> +“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’s +stone.”</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’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’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>.—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?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—You are nearer the mark than you +suppose. Even from those battlements a heroine of the +twelfth century has looked down on me.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—Oh! some vision of an ideal +beauty. I suppose the whole will end in another tradition +and a ballad.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—Genuine flesh and blood; as +genuine as Lady Clarinda. I will tell you the story.</p> +<p>Mr. Chainmail narrated his adventures.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—She appears to be expressly +destined for the light of your baronial hall. Introduce me +in this case, two heads are better than one.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—No, I thank you. Leave me to +manage my chance of a prize, and keep you to your own chance of +a—</p> +<p><i>Captain Fitzchrome</i>.—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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. +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.</p> +<p><i>Mrs. Ap Llymry</i>.—What have you done to poor dear +Miss Susan? she is crying ready to break her heart.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mrs. Ap Llymry</i>.—Why, then, the best thing you can +do is to go away, and come again tomorrow.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—Not I, indeed, madam. 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>.—I will tell Miss Susan what you +say. 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. 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.</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. 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?”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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!</p> +<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.—The cause is already +removed. I saw something that excited painful +recollections; nothing that I could now wish otherwise than as it +is.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—You can have done nothing to +dishonour your name.</p> +<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—Yet, I entreat you, tell me your +name.</p> +<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.—Why, sir?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—Why, but to throw my hand, my +heart, my fortune, at your feet, if—.</p> +<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.—If my name be worthy of them.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—Nay, nay, not so; if your hand and +heart are free.</p> +<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.—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>.—Then from yourself alone I seek +them.</p> +<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—I would choose you from all the +world, were you even the daughter of the <i>exécuteur des +hautes œuvres</i>, as the heroine of a romantic story I +once read turned out to be.</p> +<p><i>Miss Susannah</i>.—I am satisfied. 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. “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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE INVITATION.</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>A cup of wine, that’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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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>.—Nay, sir; I think you may see that +with your own eyes.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—I rather think it comes of +poverty.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Your house would have been very +safe, Doctor, if they had had no better science than the learned +friend’s to work with.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Well, sir, that may +be. Excellent potted char. The Lord deliver me from +the learned friend.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—Well, Doctor, for your comfort, +here is a declaration of the learned friend’s that he will +never take office.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Then, sir, he will be in +office next week. Peace be with him. Sugar and +cream.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—But, Doctor, are you for Chainmail +Hall on Christmas Day?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—That am I, for there will +be an excellent dinner, though, peradventure, grotesquely +served.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—I have not seen my neighbour since +he left us on the canal.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—He has married a wife, and +brought her home.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—Indeed! If she suits him, +she must be an oddity: it will be amusing to see them +together.</p> +<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.—Very amusing. He! He! +Mr. Firedamp. Is there any water about Chainmail Hall?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—An old moat.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Firedamp</i>.—I shall die of malaria.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—Shall we have any music?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—An old harper.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Trillo</i>.—Those fellows are always horridly out +of tune. What will he play?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Old songs and marches.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—Among so many old things, I hope we +shall find Old Philosophy.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—An old woman.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Philpot</i>.—Perhaps an old map of the river in +the twelfth century.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—No doubt.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—How many more old things?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Old hospitality; old wine; +old ale; all the images of old England; an old butler.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.—Shall we all be welcome?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Heartily; you will be +slapped on the shoulder, and called Old Boy.</p> +<p><i>Lord Bossnowl</i>.—I think we should all go in our +old clothes. He! He!</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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>.—And what curious piece of +antiquity is the lady of the mansion?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—No antiquity there; +none.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—Who was she?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—That I know not.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—Have you seen her?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—I have.</p> +<p><i>Lady Clarinda</i>.—Is she pretty?</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. +Folliott</i>.—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 <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 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.—<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’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.</p> +<p>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, <i>rayonnante de joie et +d’amour</i>.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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>.—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</p> + +<blockquote><p>Τιτιτιτιτιμπρο.<br +/> +Ποποποί, +ποποποί<br /> + +Τιοτιοτιοτιοτιοτίγξ.<br +/> +Κικκαβαῦ, +κικκαβαῦ.<br /> + +Τοροτοροτοροτορολιλιλίγξ,</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: “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.”</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—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.</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’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.</p> +<p>“It is something new under the sun,” said the +divine, as he sat down, “to see a great dinner without +fish.”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—Fish was for fasts in the twelfth +century.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Well, sir, I prefer our +reformed system of putting fasts and feasts together. Not +but here is ample indemnity.</p> +<p>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.</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>.—What have we here? +Mummers?</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—Nay, I know not. I expect +none.</p> +<p>“Who is there?” he added, approaching the door of +the hall.</p> +<p>“Who is there?” vociferated the divine, with the +voice of Stentor.</p> +<p>“Captain Swing,” replied a chorus of discordant +voices.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—The cause is the same in both; +poverty in despair.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Very likely; but the effect is +extremely disagreeable.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p>And he vociferated at the top of his voice, “What do you +want here?” “Arms, arms,” replied a +hundred voices, “Give us the arms.”</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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>.—Just give them the old spits and +toasting irons, and they will go away quietly.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—The way to keep the people down is +kind and liberal usage.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—When I suspended these arms for +ornament, I never dreamed of their being called into use.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Skionar</i>.—Let me address them. 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>.—Eh! sir, I can bring them to that +conclusion in less time than you.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Crotchet</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Mac Quedy</i>.—Give them the old iron.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Give them the +weapons! <i>Pessimo</i>, <i>medius fidius</i>, +<i>exemplo</i>. Forbid it the spirit of <i>Frère +Jean des Entommeures</i>! 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: <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. The water-loving Mr. +Philpot had diluted himself with so much wine as to be quite +<i>hors de combat</i>. 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.</p> +<p>“Phew!” said the divine, returning; “an +inglorious victory; but it deserves a devil and a bowl of +punch.”</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—A wassail-bowl.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—No, sir. No more of +the twelfth century for me.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Toogood</i>.—Something like it: improved by my +diagram: arts for arms.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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?</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Tut, man; dry clothes, a +turkey’s leg and rump, well devilled, and a quart of strong +punch, will set all to rights.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—Punch, sir, punch: there +is no antidote like punch.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—Well, Doctor, you shall be +indulged. 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’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.</p> +<p><i>The Rev. Dr. Folliott</i>.—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.</p> +<p><i>Mr. Chainmail</i>.—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’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 /> + Within a summer grove,<br /> +Amid the flower-enamelled shades<br /> + Together talked of love.</p> +<p>A clerk sweet Blanchflor’s heart had gain’d;<br /> + Fair Florence loved a knight:<br /> +And each with ardent voice maintained<br /> + She loved the worthiest wight.</p> +<p>Sweet Blanchflor praised her scholar dear,<br /> + As courteous, kind, and true!<br /> +Fair Florence said her chevalier<br /> + Could every foe subdue.</p> +<p>And Florence scorned the bookworm vain,<br /> + Who sword nor spear could raise;<br /> +And Blanchflor scorned the unlettered brain<br /> + Could sing no lady’s praise.</p> +<p>From dearest love, the maidens bright<br /> + To deadly hatred fell,<br /> +Each turned to shun the other’s sight,<br /> + And neither said farewell.</p> +<p>The king of birds, who held his court<br /> + Within that flowery grove,<br /> +Sang loudly: “’Twill be rare disport<br /> + To judge this suit of love.”</p> +<p>Before him came the maidens bright,<br /> + With all his birds around,<br /> +To judge the cause, if clerk or knight<br /> + In love be worthiest found.</p> +<p>The falcon and the sparrow-hawk<br /> + Stood forward for the fight:<br /> +Ready to do, and not to talk,<br /> + They voted for the knight.</p> +<p>And Blanchflor’s heart began to fail,<br /> + Till rose the strong-voiced lark,<br /> +And, after him, the nightingale,<br /> + And pleaded for the clerk.</p> +<p>The nightingale prevailed at length,<br /> + Her pleading had such charms;<br /> +So eloquence can conquer strength,<br /> + And arts can conquer arms.</p> +<p>The lovely Florence tore her hair,<br /> + And died upon the place;<br /> +And all the birds assembled there<br /> + Bewailed the mournful case.</p> +<p>They piled up leaves and flowerets rare<br /> + Above the maiden bright,<br /> +And sang: “Farewell to Florence fair,<br /> + Who too well loved her knight.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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:</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’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>“Sure never,” he thought, “was a creature so +rare,<br /> +So docile, so true, as my excellent mare.<br /> +Lo, here, how I stand” (and he gazed all around),<br /> +“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?”</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’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’s caprice<br /> +Weighs down years of smiling,<br /> +Youthful hearts are rovers,<br /> +Love is bought and sold:<br /> +Fortune’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. 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. 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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES.</h2> +<p><a name="footnote175"></a><a href="#citation175" +class="footnote">[175]</a> A mountain-wandering maid,<br /> +Twin-nourished with the solitary wood.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROTCHET CASTLE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 2075-h.htm or 2075-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/7/2075 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive +specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this +eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook +for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, +performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given +away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks +not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the +trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the +person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph +1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the +Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country outside the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work +on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + 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. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format +other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain +Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +provided that + +* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation." + +* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm + works. + +* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + +* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The +Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at +www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the +mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its +volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous +locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt +Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to +date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and +official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular +state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +</pre></body> +</html> diff --git a/2075-h/images/tpb.jpg b/2075-h/images/tpb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b60f54a --- /dev/null +++ b/2075-h/images/tpb.jpg diff --git a/2075-h/images/tps.jpg b/2075-h/images/tps.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c1a683 --- /dev/null +++ b/2075-h/images/tps.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..63a0d3c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #2075 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2075) diff --git a/old/ccstl10.txt b/old/ccstl10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..24a0600 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ccstl10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4929 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext Crotchet Castle, by Thomas Love Peacock +#2 in our series by Thomas Love Peacock + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Crotchet Castle + +by Thomas Love Peacock + +February, 2000 [Etext #2075] + + +Project Gutenberg Etext Crotchet Castle, by Thomas Love Peacock +*****This file should be named ccstl10.txt or ccstl10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, ccstl11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ccstl10a.txt + + +This etext was prepared by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk +from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition. + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we do usually do NOT! keep +these books in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text +files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we +manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly +from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an +assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few +more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we +don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person. + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> +hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org +if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if +it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . . + +We would prefer to send you this information by email. + +****** + +To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser +to view http://promo.net/pg. This site lists Etexts by +author and by title, and includes information about how +to get involved with Project Gutenberg. You could also +download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here. This +is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com, +for a more complete list of our various sites. + +To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any +Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror +sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed +at http://promo.net/pg). + +Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better. + +Example FTP session: + +ftp sunsite.unc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg +cd etext90 through etext99 +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99] +GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books] + +*** + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** + +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +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 + diff --git a/old/ccstl10.zip b/old/ccstl10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e43879d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ccstl10.zip |
