 | CHAPTER XVI. The monikins |  |
16. CHAPTER XVI.
Bliss—The best investment in society—The result of much
experience, and The End.
That day two months found me at the rectory
of Tenthpig, the happiest man in England. The
season had advanced to the middle of July, and the
shrubbery near the bow-window of my excellent
father-in-law's library, was in full verdure. The
plant, in particular, whose flowers had so well
emulated the bloom of Anna's cheek, was rioting in
the luxuriance of renewed fertility, its odors stealing
gently over the senses of my young wife and myself,
as we sat alone, enjoying the holy calm of a
fine summer morning, and that delicious happiness
which is apt to render the bliss of the first months
of a well-assorted union almost palpable.
Anna was seated so near the window that the
tints of the rose-bush suffused her spotless robe,
rendering her whole figure a perfect picture of that
attractive creature the poets have so often sung—a
blushing bride. The quiet light had to traverse a
wilderness of sweets before it fell on her bland features,
every polished lineament of which was eloquent
of felicity, and yet, if it be not a contradiction,
I would also add, not entirely without the shadows
of thought. She was never more lovely, and
I had never known her so subdued and tender, as
within the last half-hour. We had been speaking,
without reserve, of the past, and Anna had just
faithfully described the extreme suffering with which
she had complied with the command of the good
rector, in writing the letter that had so completely
unmanned me.
“I ought to have known you better, love, than to
earnest protestations of regret, and gazing fondly
into those eyes which have so much of the serenity,
as they have the hues, of heaven. “You never yet
were so unkind to one who was offensive; much
less could you willingly have plotted this cruelty
to one you regard!”
Anna could no longer control herself, but her
cheeks were wetted with the usual signs of feeling
in her sex. Then smiling in the midst of this little
outbreaking of womanly sensibility, her countenance
became playful and radiant.
“That letter ought not to be altogether proscribed,
neither, Jack. Had it not been written,
you would never have visited Leaphigh, nor Leaplow,
nor have seen any of those wonderful spectacles
which are here recorded.”
The dear creature laid her hand on a roll of
manuscript which she had just returned to me, after
its perusal. At the same time, her face flushed, as
vivid and transient feelings are reflected from the
features of the innocent and ingenuous, and she
made a faint effort to laugh.
I passed a hand over my brow, for whenever this
subject is alluded to between us, I invariably feel
that there is a species of mistiness, in and about the
region of thought. I was not displeased, however,
for I knew that a heart which loved so truly would
not willingly cause me pain, nor would one habitually
so gentle and considerate, utter a syllable that
she might have reason to think would seriously
displease.
“Hadst thou been with me, love, that journey
would always be remembered as one of the pleasantest
events of my life; for, while it had its perils
and its disagreeables, it had also its moments of
extreme satisfaction.”
“You will never be an adept in political saltation,
John!”
“Perhaps not—but here is a document that will
render it less necessary than formerly.”
I threw her a packet which had been received
that morning from town, by a special messenger,
but of whose contents I had not yet spoken. Anna
was too young a wife to open it without an approving
look from my fond eye. On glancing over its
contents, she perceived that I was raised to the
House of Peers by the title of Viscount Householder.
The purchase of three more boroughs, and
the influence of my old friend Lord Pledge, had
done it all.
The sweet girl looked pleased, for I believe it is
in female nature to like to be a Viscountess; but,
throwing herself into my arms, she protested that
her joy was at my elevation and not at her own.
“I owed you this effort, Anna, as some acknowledgment
for your faith and disinterestedness in the
affair of Lord M'Dee.”
“And yet, Jack, he had neither high cheek-bones,
nor red hair; and his accent was such as might
please a girl less capricious than myself!”
This was said playfully and coquettishly, but in a
way to make me feel how near folly would have been
to depriving me of a treasure, had the heart I so
much prized been less ingenuous and pure. I drew
the dear creature to my bosom, as if afraid my rival
might yet rob me of her possession. Anna looked
up, smiling through her tears; and, making an effort
to be calm, she said, in a voice so smothered as to
prove how delicate she felt the subject to be:—
“We will speak seldom of this journey, dear
John, and try to think of the long and dark journey
which is yet before us. We will speak of it, how
between us.”
I kissed her serene and humid eyes, and repeated
what she had just said, syllable for syllable. Anna
has not been unmindful of her words; for rarely,
indeed, has she touched on the past, and then
oftener in allusion to her own sorrows, than in
reference to my impressions.
But, while the subject of my voyage to the monikin
region is, in a measure, forbidden between me and
my wife, there exists no such restraint as between
me and other people. The reader may like to know,
therefore, what effect this extraordinary adventure
has left on my mind, after an interval of ten years.
There have been moments when the whole has
appeared a dream; but, on looking back, and
comparing it with other scenes in which I have
been an actor, I cannot perceive that this is not
quite as indelibly stamped on my memory as those.
The facts themselves, moreover, are so very like
what I see daily in the course of occurrence around
me, that I have come to the conclusion, I did go
to Leaphigh in the way related, and that I must
have been brought back during the temporary
insanity of a fever. I believe, therefore, that there
are such countries as Leaphigh and Leaplow; and,
after much thought, I am of opinion that great justice
has here been done to the monikin character in
general.
The result of much meditation on what I witnessed,
has been to produce sundry material changes
in my former opinions, and to unsettle even many
of the notions in which I may be said to have been
born and bred. In order to consume as little of the
reader's time as possible, I shall set down a summary
of my conclusions, and then take my leave
what I have written. Before completing my
task in this way, however, it will be well to add a
word on the subject of one or two of my fellow-travellers.
I never could make up my mind relating to the
fact whether we did or did not actually eat Brigadier
Downright. The flesh was so savory, and it
tasted so delicious after a week of philosophical
meditation on nuts, and the recollection of its pleasures
is so very vivid, that I am inclined to think
nothing but a good material dinner could have left
behind it impressions so lively. I have had many
melancholy thoughts on this subject, especially in
November; but observing that men are constantly
devouring each other, in one shape or another, I
endeavor to make the best of it, and to persuade
myself that a slight difference in species may exonerate
me from the imputation of cannibalism.
I often get letters from Captain Poke. He is not
very explicit on the subject of our voyage, it is
true; but, on the whole, I have decided that the
little ship he constructed was built on the model of,
and named after, our own Walrus, instead of our
own Walrus being built on the model of, and named
after, the little ship constructed by Captain Poke.
I keep the latter, therefore, to show my friends as
a proof of what I tell them, knowing the importance
of visible testimony with ordinary minds.
As for Bob and the mates, I never heard any
more of them. The former most probably continued
a “kickee,” until years and experience enabled him
to turn the tables on humanity, when, as is usually
the case with Christians, he would be very likely to
take up the business of a “kicker” with so much
the greater zeal, on account of his early sufferings.
To conclude, my own adventures and observations
lead to the following inferences, viz.—
That every man loves liberty for his own sake,
and very few for the sake of other people.
That moral saltation is very necessary to political
success at Leaplow, and quite probably in many
other places.
That civilization is very arbitrary, meaning one
thing in France, another thing at Leaphigh, and
still a third in Dorsetshire.
That there is no sensible difference between motives
in the polar region and motives anywhere else.
That truth is a comparative and local property,
being much influenced by circumstances; particularly
by climate and by different public opinions.
That there is no portion of human wisdom so
select and faultless that it does not contain the
seeds of its own refutation.
That of all the 'ocracies, (aristocracy and democracy
included) hypocrisy is the most flourishing.
That he who is in the clutches of the law may
think himself lucky if he escape with the loss of his
tail.
That liberty is a convertible term, which means
exclusive privileges in one country, no privileges in
another, and inclusive privileges in all.
That religion is a paradox, in which self-denial
and humility are proposed as tenets, in direct contradiction
to every man's senses.
That phrenology and caudology are sister sciences,
one being quite as demonstrable as the other, and
more too.
That philosophy, sound principles, and virtue, are
really delightful; but, after all, that they are no more
than so many slaves of the belly; a man usually
preferring to eat his best friend to starving.
That a little wheel and a great wheel are as
necessary to the motion of a commonwealth, as to
the motion of a stage-coach, and that what this
gains in periphery that makes up in activity, on the
rotatory principle.
That it is one thing to have a king, another to
have a throne, and another to have neither.
That the reasoning which is drawn from particular
abuses, is no reasoning for general uses.
That, in England, if we did not use blinkers, our
cattle would break our necks; whereas, in Germany
we travel at a good pace, allowing the horse the
use of his eyes; and in Naples we fly, without even
a bit!
That the converse of what has just been said of
horses is true of men, in the three countries named.
That occultations of truth are just as certain as
the aurora borealis, and quite as easily accounted
for.
That men who will not shrink from the danger
and toil of penetrating the polar basin, will shrink
from the trouble of doing their own thinking, and
put themselves, like Captain Poke, under the convoy
of a God-like.
That all our wisdom is insufficient to protect us
from frauds, one outwitting us by gyrations and
flapjacks, and another by adding new joints to the
cauda.
That men are not very scrupulous touching the
humility due to God, but are so tenacious of their
own privileges in this particular, they will confide in
plausible rogues rather than in plain-dealing honesty.
That they who rightly appreciate the foregoing
facts, are People's Friends, and become the salt of
the earth—yea, even the Most Patriotic Patriots!
That it is fortunate “all will come right in Heaven,”
earth.
That the social-stake system has one distinctive
merit; that of causing the owners of vested rights
to set their own interests in motion, while those of
their fellow-citizens must follow, as a matter of
course, though perhaps a little clouded by the dust
raised by their leaders.
That he who has an Anna, has the best investment
in humanity; and that if he has any repetition
of his treasure, it is better still.
That money commonly purifies the spirit as wine
quenches thirst; and therefore it is wise to commit
all our concerns to the keeping of those who have
most of it.
That others seldom regard us in the same light
we regard ourselves; witness the manner in which
Dr. Reasono converted me from a benefactor into
the travelling tutor of Prince Bob.
That honors are sweet even to the most humble,
as is shown by the satisfaction of Noah in being
made a Lord High Admiral.
That there is no such stimulant of humanity, as
a good moneyed stake in its advancement.
That though the mind may be set on a very improper
and base object, it will not fail to seek a good
motive for its justification, few men being so hardened
in any grovelling passion, that they will not
endeavor to deceive themselves, as well as their
neighbors.
That academies promote good fellowship in knowledge,
and good fellowship in knowledge promotes
F. U. D. G. E.s, and H. O. A. X.es.
That a political rolling-pin, though a very good
thing to level rights and privileges, is a very bad
thing to level houses, temples, and other matters
that might be named.
That the system of governing by proxy is more
extended than is commonly supposed; in one country
a king resorting to its use, and in another the
people.
That there is no method by which a man can be
made to covet a tail, so sure as by supplying all
his neighbors, and excluding him by an especial
edict.
That the perfection of consistency in a nation, is
to dock itself at home, while its foreign agents
furiously cultivate caudæ abroad.
That names are far more useful than things,
being more generally understood, less liable to
objections, of greater circulation, besides occupying
much less room.
That ambassadors turn the back of the throne
outward, aristocrats draw a crimson curtain before
it, and a king sits on it.
That nature has created inequalities in men and
things, and, as human institutions are intended to
prevent the strong from oppressing the weak, ergo,
the laws should encourage natural inequalities as a
legitimate consequence.
That, moreover, the laws of nature having made
one man wise and another man foolish—this strong,
and that weak, human laws should reverse it all,
by making another man wise and one man foolish
—that strong and this weak. On this conclusion I
obtained a peerage.
That God-likes are commonly Riddles, and Riddles,
with many people, are, as a matter of course,
God-likes.
That the expediency of establishing the base of
society on a principle of the most sordid character,
one that is denounced by the revelations of God,
and proved to be insufficient by the experience of
subjecting the dissenter to the imputation of being
a sheep-stealer.
That we seldom learn moderation under any political
excitement, until forty thousand square miles
of territory are blown from beneath our feet.
That it is not an infallible sign of great mental
refinement to bespatter our fellow-creatures, while
every nerve is writhing in honor of our pigs, our
cats, our stocks and our stones.
That select political wisdom, like select schools,
propagates much questionable knowledge.
That the whole people is not infallible, neither is
a part of the people infallible.
That love for the species is a godlike and pure
sentiment; but the philanthropy which is dependent
on buying land by the square mile, and selling it by
the square foot, is stench in the nostrils of the just.
That one thoroughly imbued with republican
simplicity invariably squeezes himself into a little
wheel, in order to show how small he can become
at need.
That habit is invincible, an Esquimaux preferring
whale's blubber to beef-steak, a native of the Gold
Coast cherishing his tom-tom before a band of
music, and certain travelled countrymen of our
own saying “Commend me to the English skies.”
That arranging a fact by reason is embarrassing,
and admits of cavilling; while adapting a reason to
a fact is a very natural, easy, every-day, and sometimes
necessary, process.
That what men affirm for their own particular
interests they will swear to in the end, although it
should be a proposition as much beyond the necessity
of an oath, as that “black is white.”
That national allegories exist everywhere, the
in the richness of imaginations.
And finally:—
That men have more of the habits, propensities,
dispositions, cravings, antics, gratitude, flap-jacks,
and honesty of monikins, than is generally
known.
| CHAPTER XVI. The monikins | |