University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

The recollection of the intense feelings of that
important period of my life has, in some measure,
disturbed the connexion of the narrative, and may
possibly have left some little obscurity, in the mind
of the reader, on the subject of the new sources
of happiness that had broken on my own intelligence.
A word here, in the way of elucidation,
therefore, may not be misapplied, although it is my
purpose to refer more to my acts, and to the wonderful
incidents it will shortly be my duty to lay
before the world, for a just understanding of my
views, than to mere verbal explanations.

Happiness—happiness, here and hereafter, was
my goal. I aimed at a life of useful and active
benevolence, a death-bed of hope and joy, and an
eternity of fruition. With such an object before
me, my thoughts, from the moment that I witnessed
the dying regrets of my father, had been
intensely brooding over the means of attainment.
Surprising as, no doubt, it will appear to vulgar
minds, I obtained the clue to this sublime mystery,
at the late election for the borough of Householder,
and from the lips of my Lord Pledge. Like other
important discoveries, it is very simple when
understood, being easily rendered intelligible to
the dullest capacities, as, indeed, in equity, ought
to be the case with every principle that is so intimately
connected with the well-being of man.

It is an universally admitted truth, that happiness
is the only legitimate object of all human associations.
The ruled concede a certain portion of
their natural rights for the benefits of peace, security

and order, with the understanding that they
are to enjoy the remainder as their own proper
indefeasible estate. It is true, that there exist, in
different nations, some material differences of
opinion on the subject of the quantities to be bestowed
and retained; but these aberrations from a
just medium are no more than so many caprices
of the human judgment, and in no manner do
they affect the principle. I found also, that all the
wisest and best of the species, or, what is much
the same thing, the most responsible, uniformly
maintain that he who has the largest stake in society,
is, in the nature of things, the most qualified
to administer its affairs. By a stake in society is
meant, agreeably to universal convention, a multiplication
of those interests which occupy us in our
daily concerns—or what is vulgarly called, property.
This principle works by exciting us to do
right, through those heavy investments of our own
which would inevitably suffer were we to do wrong.
The proposition is now clear, nor can the premises
readily be mistaken. Happiness is the aim of
society; and property, or a vested interest in that
society, is the best pledge of our disinterestedness
and justice, and the best qualification for its
proper control. It follows as a legitimate corollary,
that a multiplication of those interests will
increase the stake, and render us more and more
worthy of the trust, by elevating us, as near as
may be, to the pure and ethereal condition of the
angels. One of those happy accidents which
sometimes make men emperors and kings, had
made me, perhaps, the richest subject of Europe.
With this polar star of theory shining before my
eyes, and with practical means so ample, it would
have been clearly my own fault, had I not steered
my bark into the right haven. If he who had the
heaviest investments was the most likely to love his
fellows, there could be no great difficulty for one in
my situation to take the lead in philanthropy. It is
true that, with superficial observers, the instance
of my own immediate ancestor might be supposed
to form an exception, or rather an objection, to
the theory. So far from this being the case, however,
it proves the very reverse. My father, in a
great measure, had concentrated all his investments
in the national debt. Now, beyond all cavil,
he loved the funds intensely; grew violent when
they were assailed; cried out for bayonets when
the mass declaimed against taxation; eulogized the
gallows, when there were menaces of revolt, and,
in a hundred other ways, proved that “where the
treasure is, there will the heart be also.” The
instance of my father, therefore, like all exceptions,
only went to prove the excellence of the
rule. He had merely fallen into the error of contraction,
when the only safe course was that of
expansion. I resolved to expand; to do that
which, probably, no political economist had ever
yet thought of doing—in short, to carry out the
principle of the social stake in such a way, as
should cause me to love all things, and consequently
to become worthy of being intrusted with
the care of all things.

On reaching town, my earliest visit was one of
thanks to my Lord Pledge. At first, I had felt
some doubts whether the baronetcy would, or
would not, aid the system of philanthropy; for, by
raising me above a large portion of my kind, it
was, in so much at least, a removal from philanthropical
sympathies; but, by the time the patent
was received, and the fees were paid, I found that
it might fairly be considered a pecuniary investment,
and that it was consequently brought within
the rule I had prescribed for my own government.

The next thing was to employ suitable agents
to aid in making the purchases that were necessary
to attach me to mankind. A month was
diligently occupied in this way. As ready money
was not wanting, and I was not very particular
on the subject of prices, at the end of that time, I
began to have certain incipient sentiments which
went to prove the triumphant success of the experiment.
In other words, I owned much, and was
beginning to take a lively interest in all I owned.

I made purchases of estates in England, Scotland,
Ireland and Wales. This division of real
property was meant to equalize my sentiments
justly, between the different portions of my native
country. Not satisfied with this, however, I extended
the system to the colonies. I had East
India shares, a running ship, Canada land, a plantation
in Jamaica, sheep at the Cape and at New
South Wales, an indigo concern at Bengal, an
establishment for the collection of antiques in the
Ionian Isles, and a connexion with a shipping house,
for the general supply of our various dependencies
with beer, bacon, cheese, broadcloths and ironmongery.
From the British Empire, my interests
were soon extended into other countries. On the
Garonne, and at Xeres, I bought vineyards. In
Germany I took some shares in different salt and
coal-mines; the same in South America, in the
precious metals; in Russia, I dipped deeply into
tallow; in Switzerland, I set up an extensive manufactury
of watches, and bought all the horses
for a voiturier on a large scale. I had silk-worms
in Lombardy, olives and hats in Tuscany, a bath
in Lucca, and a maccaroni establishment at Naples.
To Sicily I sent funds for the purchase of
wheat, and at Rome I kept a connoisseur to conduct
a general agency in the supply of British

articles; such as mustard, porter, pickles, and
corned beef; as well as for the forwarding of pictures
and statues to the lovers of the arts and of virtù.

By the time all this was effected, I found my
hands full of business. Method, suitable agents,
and a resolution to succeed, smoothed the way,
however, and I began to look about me and to take
breath. By way of relaxation, I now descended
into details; and, for a few days, I frequented the
meetings of those who are called “the Saints,”
in order to see if something might not be done towards
the attainment of my object, through their
instrumentality. I cannot say that this experiment
met with all the success I had anticipated. I heard
a great deal of subtle discussion, found that manner
was of more account than matter, and had unreasonable
and ceaseless appeals to my pocket. So
near a view of charity had a tendency to expose
its blemishes, as the brilliancy of the sun is known
to exhibit defects on the face of beauty, which escape
the eye when seen through the medium of that artificial
light for which they are best adapted; and I
soon contented myself with sending my contributions,
at proper intervals, keeping aloof in person. This
experiment gave me occasion to perceive, that
human virtues, like little candles, shine best in the
dark, and that their radiance is chiefly owing to
the atmosphere of a “naughty world.” From
speculating I returned to facts.

The question of slavery had agitated the benevolent
for some years, and finding a singular apathy
in my own bosom on this important subject, I
bought five hundred of each sex, to stimulate my
sympathies. This led me nearer to the United
States of America, a country that I had endeavored
to blot out of my recollection; for, while thus
encouraging a love for the species, I had scarcely

thought it necessary to go so far from home. As no
rule exists without an exception, I confess I was a
good deal disposed to believe that a Yankee might
very fairly be an omission in an Englishman's philanthropy.
But, “in for a penny, in for a pound.”
The negroes led me to the banks of the Mississippi,
where I was soon the owner of both a sugar and
a cotton-plantation. In addition to these purchases,
I took shares in divers South-Sea-men, owned a
coral and pearl-fishery of my own, and sent an agent
with a proposition to King Tamamamaah to create
a monopoly of sandal-wood, in our joint behalf.

The earth and all it contained assumed new glories
in my eyes. I had fulfilled the essential condition
of the political economists, the jurists, the constitution-mongers,
and all the “talents and decency,”
and had stakes in half the societies of the world. I
was fit to govern, I was fit to advise, to dictate to
most of the people of Christendom; for I had taken
a direct interest in their welfares, by making them
my own. Twenty times was I about to jump into
a post-chaise, and to gallop down to the rectory, in
order to lay my new-born alliance with the species,
and all its attendant felicity, at the feet of Anna,—
but the terrible thought of monogamy, and of its
sympathy-withering consequences, as often stayed
my course. I wrote to her, weekly, however,
making her the participator of a portion of my
happiness, though I never had the satisfaction of
receiving a single line in reply.

Fairly emancipated from selfishness, and pledged
to the species, I now quitted England on a tour of
philanthropical inspection. I shall not weary the
reader with an account of my journeys over the
beaten tracks of the continent, but transport him
and myself at once to Paris, in which city I arrived
on the 17th of May, Anno Domini 1819. I had

seen much, fancied myself improved, and, by constant
dwelling on my system, saw its excellencies
as plainly as Napoleon saw the celebrated star
which defied the duller vision of his uncle, the
Cardinal. At the same time, as usually happens
with those who direct all their energies to a given
point, the opinions originally formed of certain portions
of my theory, began to undergo mutations, as
nearer and more practical views pointed out inconsistencies
and exposed defects. As regards Anna,
in particular, the quiet, gentle, unobtrusive, and yet
distinct picture of womanly loveliness, that was
rarely absent from my mind, had, for the past
twelve-month, haunted me with a constancy of argument
that might have unsettled the Newtonian
scheme of philosophy itself. I already more than
questioned whether the benefit to be derived from
the support of one so affectionate and true, would
not fully counterbalance the disadvantage of a concentration
of interest, so far as the sex was concerned.
This growing opinion was fast getting to
be conviction, when I encountered on the boulevards,
one day, an old country neighbor of the rector's,
who gave me the best account of the family,
adding, after descanting on the beauty and excellence
of Anna herself, that the dear girl had, quite
lately, actually refused a peer of the realm, who
enjoyed all the acknowledged advantages of youth,
riches, birth, rank and a good name, and who had
selected her, from a deep conviction of her worth,
and of her ability to make any sensible man happy.
As to my own power over the heart of Anna, I
never entertained a doubt. She had betrayed it in
a thousand ways, and on a hundred occasions; nor
had I been at all backward in letting her understand
how highly I valued her dear self, although
I had never yet screwed up my resolution so high,
as distinctly to propose for her hand. But all my
unsettled purposes became concentrated on hearing
this welcome intelligence; and, taking an abrupt
leave of my old acquaintance, I hurried home and
wrote the following letter:

If there was ever a happy fellow on earth, it was
myself, when this letter was written, sealed, and

fairly dispatched. The die was cast; and I walked
into the air, a regenerated and an elastic being. Let
what might happen, I was sure of Anna. Her gentleness
would calm my irritability; her prudence
temper my energies; her bland but enduring affections
soothe my soul. I felt at peace with all around
me, myself included, and I found a sweet assurance
of the wisdom of the step I had just taken in the
expanding sentiment. If such were my sensations
now that every thought centered in Anna, what
would they not become when these personal transports
were cooled by habit, and nature was left to
the action of the ordinary impulses! I began to
doubt of the infallibility of that part of my system
which had given me so much pain, and to incline to
the new doctrine, that by concentration on particular
parts, we come most to love the whole. On
examination, there was reason to question whether
it was not on this principle even, that, as an especial
landholder, I attained so great an interest in
my native island; for, while I did not certainly own
the whole of Great Britain, I felt that I had a profound
respect for every thing in it, that was in any,
even the most remote manner, connected with my
own particular possessions.

A week flew by in delightful anticipations. The
happiness of this short but heavenly period became
so exciting, so exquisite, that I was on the point of
giving birth to an improvement on my theory, (or
rather on the theory of the political economists and
constitution-mongers, for it is in fact theirs, and
not mine,) when the answer of Anna was received.
If anticipation be a state of so much happiness,—
happiness being the great pursuit of man,—why not
invent a purely probationary condition of society?
—why not change its elementary features from
positive to anticipating interests, which would give

more zest to life, and bestow felicity unimpaired
by the dross of realities? I had determined to carry
out this principle in practice, by an experiment, and
left the hotel to order an agent to advertise, and to
enter into a treaty or two, for some new investments,
(without the smallest intention of bringing
them to a conclusion,) when the porter delivered
me the ardently expected letter. I never knew
what would be the effect of taking a stake in society
by anticipation, therefore; the contents of
Anna's missive driving every subject that was not
immediately connected with the dear writer, and
with sad realities, completely out of my head. It
is not improbable, however, that the new theory
would have proved to be faulty, for I have often had
occasion to remark that heirs (in remainder, for
instance,) manifest a hostility to the estate, by carrying
out the principle of anticipation, rather than
any of that prudent respect for social consequences,
to which the legislator looks with so much anxiety.

The letter of Anna was in the following words:

Ten thousand furies took possession of my soul,
in the shape of so many demons of jealousy. Anna
expanding her affections!—Anna taking any other
stake in society than that I made sure she would
accept through me!—Anna teaching herself to
love more than one, and that one myself!—The
thought was madness. I did not believe in the
sincerity of her refusal of Lord M'Dee. I ran for
a copy of the Peerage, (for since my own elevation
in life, I regularly bought both that work and
the Baronetage,) and turned to the page that contained
his name. He was a Scottish Viscount,
who had just been created a Baron of the United
Kingdom, and his age was precisely that of my
own. Here was a rival to excite distrust! By a
singular contradiction in sentiments, the more I
dreaded his power to injure me, the more I undervalued
his means. While I fancied Anna was
merely playing with me, and had in secret made
up her mind to be a peeress, I had no doubt that
the subject of her choice was both ill-favored and
awkward, and had cheek-bones like a Tartar.
While reading of the great antiquity of his family,
(which reached obscurity in the thirteenth century,)

I set it down as established, that the first of his
unknown predecessors was a bare-legged thief;
and, at the very moment that I imagined Anna
was smiling on him, and retracting her coquettish
denial, I could have sworn that he spoke with an
unintelligible border accent, and that he had red
hair!

The torment of such pictures grew to be intolerable,
and I rushed into the open air for relief.
How long, or whither I wandered, I know not;
but on the morning of the following day I found
I was seated in a guinguette, near the base of Montmartre,
eagerly devouring a roll, and refreshing
myself with sour wine. When a little recovered
from the shock of discovering myself in a situation
so novel, (for, having no investments in guinguettes,
I had not taken sufficient interest in these popular
establishments ever to enter one before,) I had
leisure to look about and survey the company.
Some fifty Frenchmen of the laboring classes were
drinking on every side, and talking with a vehemence
of gesticulation, and a clamor, that completely
annihilated thought. This then, thought I,
is a scene of popular happiness. These creatures
are excellent fellows, enjoying themselves on
liquor that has not paid the city-duty; and perhaps
I may seize upon some point that favors my system
among spirits so frank and clamorous. Doubtless,
if any one among them is in possession of any
important social secret, it will not fail to escape
him here. From meditations of this philosophical
character, I was suddenly aroused by a violent
blow before me, accompanied with an exclamation,
in very tolerable English, of the word—

“King!”

On the centre of the board which did the office
of a table, and directly beneath my eyes, lay a

clenched fist of fearful dimensions, that, in color
and protuberances, bore a good deal of resemblance
to a freshly unearthed Jerusalem artichoke.
Its sinews seemed to be cracking with tension, and
the whole knob was so expressive of intense pugnacity,
that my eyes involuntarily sought its
owner's face. I had unconsciously taken my seat
directly opposite a man whose stature was nearly
double that of the compact, bustling, sputtering,
and sturdy little fellows, who were bawling on
every side of us, and whose skinny lips, instead
of joining in the noise, were so firmly compressed
as to render the crevice of the mouth no more
strongly marked than a wrinkle in the brow of a
man of sixty. His complexion was naturally fair,
but exposure had tanned the skin of his face to
the color of the crackle of a roasted pig; those
parts which a painter would be apt to term the
“high lights” being indicated by touches of red,
nearly as bright as fourth-proof brandy. His eyes
were small, stern, fiery, and very gray; and just
at the instant they met my admiring look, they
resembled two stray coals, that, by some means,
had got separated from the body of adjacent heat
in the face. He had a prominent, well-shaped
nose, athwart which the skin was stretched like
leather in the process of being rubbed down on
the currier's bench, and his ropy black hair was
carefully smoothed over his temples and brows, in
a way to show that he was abroad on a holiday
excursion.

When our eyes met, this singular-looking being
gave me a nod of friendly recognition, for no better
reason that I could discover, than the fact that I
did not appear to be a Frenchman.

“Did mortal man ever listen to such fools, Captain,”

he observed, as if certain we must think
alike on the subject.

“Really I did not attend to what was said;
there certainly is much noise.”

“I don't pretend to understand a word of
what they are saying, myself; but it sounds like
thorough nonsense.”

“My ear is not yet sufficiently acute to distinguish
sense from nonsense by mere intonation and
sound—but it would seem, sir, that you speak
English, only.”

“Therein you are mistaken; for, being a great
traveller, I have been compelled to look about me,
and as a nat'ral consequence, I speak a little of all
languages. I do not say that I use the foreign
parts of speech always fundamentally, but then I
worry through an idee so as to make it legible
and of use, especially in the way of eating and
drinking. As to French, now, I can say `donnez-me
some van,' and `don-nez-vous some pan' as
well as the best of them; but when there are a
dozen throats bawling at once, as is the case with
these here chaps, why one might as well go on
the top of Ape's Hill, and hold a conversation with
the people he will meet with there, as to pretend
to hold a rational or a discussional discourse. For
my part, where there is to be a conversation, I
like every one to have his turn, keeping up the
talk, as it might be, watch and watch; but among
these Frenchmen it is pretty much as if their idees
had been caged, and the door being suddenly
opened, they fly out in a flock, just for the pleasure
of saying they are at liberty.”

I now perceived that my companion was a
reflecting being, his ratiocination being connected
by regular links, and that he did not boost his philosophy
on the leaping-staff of impulse, like most

of those who were sputtering, and arguing, and
wrangling, with untiring lungs, in all corners of
the guinguette. I frankly proposed, therefore, that
we should quit the place, and walk into the road,
where our discourse would be less disturbed, and
consequently more satisfactory. The proposal was
well received, and we left the brawlers, walking
by the outer boulevards towards my hotel in the
Rue de Rivoli, by the way of the Champs Elysées.