 | CHAPTER XII. The monikins |  |
12. CHAPTER XII.
An effect of logarithms on morals—An obscuration, a dissertation,
and a calculation.
The house had not long adjourned before Captain
Poke and myself were favored with a visit
from our colleague Mr. Downright, who came on
an affair of absorbing interest. He carried in his
hand a small pamphlet; and the usual salutations
were scarcely over, before he directed our attention
Leaplow was on the eve of experiencing a great
moral eclipse. The periods and dates of the phenomenon
(if that can be called a phenomenon
which was of too frequent occurrence) had been
calculated, with surprising accuracy, by the academy
of Leaphigh, and sent, through its minister, as
an especial favor, to our beloved country, in order
that we should not be taken by surprise. The account
of the affair read as follows:—
“On the third day of the season of nuts, there
will be the commencement of a great moral eclipse,
in that portion of the monikin region which lies
immediately about the pole. The property in eclipse
will be the great moral postulate usually designated
by the term Principle; and the intervening body
will be the great immoral postulate, usually known
as Interest. The frequent occurrence of the conjunction
of these two important postulates has
caused our moral mathematicians to be rather negligent
of their calculations on this subject, of late
years; but, to atone for this inexcusable indifference
to one of the most important concerns of life, the
calculating committee was instructed to pay unusual
attention to all the obscurations of the present year
and this phenomenon, one of the most decided of
our age, has been calculated with the utmost nicety
and care. We give the results.
“The eclipse will commence by a motive of monikin
vanity coming in contact with the sub-postulate
of charity, at 1 A. M. The postulate in question
will be totally hid from view, in the course of 6 h.
17 m. from the moment of contact. The passage
of a political intrigue will instantly follow, when
the several sub-postulates of truth, honesty, disinterestedness
and patriotism, will all be obscured in
succession, beginning with the lower limb of the
them, in 3 h. 42 m. from the moment of contact.
The shadow of vanity and political intrigue will
first be deepened by the approach of prosperity,
and this will be soon succeeded by the contact of a
great pecuniary interest, at 10 h. 2 m. 1 s.; and in
exactly 2 s. and 3-7 s., the whole of the great
moral postulate of Principle will be totally hid from
view. In consequence of this early passage of the
darkest shadow that is ever cast by Interest, the
passages of the respective shadows of ambition, hatred,
jealousy, and all the other minor satellites of
Interest, will be invisible.
“The country principally affected by this eclipse
will be the republic of Leaplow, a community whose
known intelligence and virtues are perhaps better
qualified to resist its influence than any other. The
time of occulation will be 9 y. 7 m. 26 d. 4 h. 16
m. 2 s. Principle will begin to reappear to the
moral eye at the end of this period, first by the
approach of Misfortune, whose atmosphere being
much less dense than that of Interest, will allow of
imperfect views of the obscured postulate; but the
radiance of the latter will not be completely restored
until the arrival of Misery, whose chastening
colors invariably permit all truths to be discernible,
although through a sombre medium. To resume:—
| “Beginning of eclipse, | 1 A. M. |
| Ecliptic opposition, | in 4 y. 6 m. 12 d. 9 h. from beginning of eclipse. |
| Middle, | in 4 y. 9 m. 0 d. 7. h. 9 m. from beginning of eclipse. |
| End of eclipse, | 9 y. 11 m. 20 d. 3 h. 2 m. from beginning. |
| Period of occultation, | 9 y. 7 m. 26 d. 4 h. 16 m. 2 s.” |
I gazed at the Brigadier in admiration and awe.
There was nothing remarkable in the eclipse itself,
with which it had been calculated added to its
other phenomena the terrible circumstance of obtaining
a glimpse into the future. I now began to
perceive the immense difference between living
consciously under a moral shadow, and living under
it unconsciously. The latter was evidently a trifle
compared to the former. Providence had most
kindly provided for our happiness in denying the
ability to see beyond the present moment.
Noah took the affair even more at heart than
myself. He told me, with a rueful and prognosticating
countenance, that we were fast drawing near
to the autumnal equinox, when we should reach the
commencement of a natural night of six months'
duration; and although the benevolent substitute of
steam might certainly in some degree lessen the
evil, that it was a furious evil, after all, to exist for
a period so weary without enjoying the light of the
sun. He found the eternal glare of day bad enough,
but he did not believe he should be able to endure
its total absence. Natur' had made him a `watch
and watch' crittur'. As for the twilight of which so
much was said, it was worse than nothin', being
neither one thing nor the other. For his part, he
liked things `made out of whole cloth.' Then he
had sent the ship round to a distant roadstead, in
order that there might be no more post-captains
and rear-admirals among the people; and here had
he been as much as four days on nothing but nuts.
Nuts might do for the philosophy of a monkey, but
he found, on trial, that it played the devil with the
philosophy of a man. Things were bad enough as
they were. He pined for a little pork—he cared
not who knew it; it might not be very sentimental,
he knew, but it was capital sea-food; his natur'
was pretty much pork; he believed most men had,
in some way or other, more or less pork in their
but human natur' loved meat; if monikins did not
like it, monikins need not eat it; there would be so
much the more for those that did like it—he pined
for his natural aliment, and as for living nine years
in an eclipse, it was quite out of the question. The
longest Stunin'tun eclipses seldom went over three
hours—he once knew Deacon Spiteful pray quite
through one, from apogee to perigee. He therefore
proposed that Sir John and he should resign their
seats without delay, and that they should try to get
the Walrus to the north'ard as quick as possible, lest
they should be caught in the polar night. As for
the Hon. Robert Smut, he wished him no better luck
than to remain where he was all his life, and to
receive his eight dollars a day in acorns.
Although it was impossible not to hear, and, having
heard, not to record the sentiments of Noah,
still my attention was much more strongly attracted
by the demeanor of the Brigadier, than by the jeremiad
of the sealer. To an anxious inquiry if he
were not well, our worthy colleague answered
plaintively, that he mourned over the misfortune of
his country.
“I have often witnessed the passage of the passions,
and of the minor motives, across the disk of
the great moral postulate, Principle; but an occultation
of its light by a Pecuniary Interest, and for
so long a period, is fearful! Heaven only knows
what will become of us!”
“Are not these eclipses, after all, so many mere
illustrations of the social-stake system? I confess
this occultation, of which you seem to have so much
dread, is not so formidable a thing, on reflection, as
it at first appeared to be.”
“You are quite right, Sir John, as to the character
of the eclipse itself, which, as a matter of
body. But the wisest and best of our philosophers
hold that the entire system of which we
are but insignificant parts, is based on certain immutable
truths of a divine origin. The premises, or
postulates, of all these truths, are so many moral
guides in the management of monikin affairs; and,
the moment they are lost sight of, as will be the
case during these frightful nine years that are to
come, we shall be abandoned entirely to selfishness.
Now selfishness is only too formidable when restrained
by Principle; but, left to its own grasping
desires and audacious sophisms, to me the moral
perspective is terrible. We are only too much addicted
to turn our eyes from Principle, when it is
shining in heavenly radiance, and in full glory,
before us; it is not difficult, therefore, to foresee
the nature of the consequences which are to follow
its total and protracted obscuration.”
“You then conceive there is a rule superior to
interest, which ought to be respected in the control
of monikin affairs?”
“Beyond a doubt; else in what should we differ
from the beasts of prey?”
“I do not exactly see whether this does, or does
not, accord with the notions of the political economists
of the social-stake system.”
“As you say, Sir John, it does, and it does not.
Your social-stake system supposes that he who has
what is termed a distinct and prominent interest in
society, will be the most likely to conduct its affairs
wisely, justly, and disinterestedly. This would be
true, if those great principles which lie at the root
of all happiness were respected; but unluckily, the
stake in question, instead of being a stake in justice
and virtue, is usually reduced to be merely a
stake in property. Now, all experience shows that
protect property, and to buy with property,
those advantages which ought to be independent of
property, viz. honors, dignities, power and immunities.
I cannot say how it is with men, but our
histories are eloquent on this head. We have had
the property-principle carried out thoroughly in our
practice, and the result has shown that its chief
operation is to render property as intact as possible,
and the bones, and sinews, and marrow of all
who do not possess it, its slaves. In short, the time
has been, when the rich were even exempt from contributing
to the ordinary exigencies of the state.
But it is quite useless to theorize on this subject, for,
by that cry in the streets, the lower limb of the great
postulate is beginning to be obscured, and, alas! we
shall soon have too much practical information.”
The Brigadier was right. On referring to the
clocks, it was found that, in truth, the eclipse had
commenced some time before, and that we were
on the verge of an absolute occultation of Principle,
by the basest and most sordid of all motives,
Pecuniary Interest.
The first proof that was given of the true state
of things, was in the language of the people. The
word interest was in every monikin's mouth, while
the word principle, as indeed was no more than
suitable, seemed to be quite blotted out of the Leaplow
vocabulary. To render a local term into
English, half of the vernacular of the country appeared
to be compressed into the single word “dollar.”
“Dollar—dollar—dollar”—nothing but “dollar!”
“Fifty thousand dollars—twenty thousand
dollars—a hundred thousand dollars”—met one at
every turn. The words rang at the corners—in the
public ways—at the exchange—in the drawing-rooms—ay,
even in the churches. If a temple had
been reared for the worship of the Creator, the first
submitted the fruits of his labors to the taste of his
fellow-citizens, conjectures were whispered among
the spectators, touching its value in the current
coin of the republic.—If an author presented the
offspring of his genius to the same arbiters, its
merits were settled by a similar standard; and one
divine, who had made a strenuous, but an ill-timed
appeal to the charity of his countrymen, by setting
forth the beauties as well as the rewards of the
god-like property, was fairly put down by a demonstration
that his proposition involved a considerable
outlay, while it did not clearly show much was to
be gained by going to heaven!
Brigadier Downright had good reasons for his
sombre anticipations, for all the acquirements, knowledge,
and experience, obtained in many years of
travel, were now found to be worse than useless.
If my honorable colleague and co-voyager ventured
a remark on the subject of foreign policy, a portion
of politics to which he had given considerable attention,
it was answered by a quotation from the stock-market;
an observation on a matter of taste was
certain to draw forth a nice distinction between the
tastes of certain liquors, together with a shrewd investigation
of their several prices; and once, when
the worthy monikin undertook to show, from what
struck me to be singularly good data, that the foreign
relations of the country were in a condition to require
great firmness, a proper prudence, and much
foresight, he was completely silenced by an antagonist
showing, from the last sales, the high value
of lots up-town!
In short, there was no dealing with any subject
that could not resolve itself into dollars, by means
of the customary exchanges. The infatuation spread
from father to son; from husband to wife; from
until it pretty effectually assailed the whole
of what is usually termed “society.” Noah swore
bitterly at this antagonist state of things. He affirmed
that he could not even crack a walnut in a
corner, but every monikin that passed appeared to
grudge him the satisfaction, small as it was; and
that Stunin'tun, though a scramble-penny place as
any he knew, was paradise to Leaplow, in the
present state of things.
It was melancholy to remark how the lustre of
the ordinary virtues grew dim, as the period of occultation
continued, and the eye gradually got to be
accustomed to the atmosphere cast by the shadow
of Pecuniary Interest. I involuntarily shuddered
at the open and undisguised manner in which individuals,
who might otherwise pass for respectable
monikins, spoke of the means that they habitually
employed in effecting their objects, and laid bare their
utter forgetfulness of the great postulate that was
hid. One coolly vaunted how much cleverer he was
than the law; another proved to demonstration that
he had outwitted his neighbor; while a third, more
daring or more expert, applied the same grounds
of exultation to the entire neighborhood. This had
the merit of cunning; that of dissimulation; another
of deception, and all of success!
The shadow cast its malign influence on every
interest connected with monikin life. Temples were
raised to God on speculation; the government was
perverted to a money-investment, in which profit,
and not justice and security, was the object; holy
wedlock fast took the aspect of buying and selling,
and few prayed who did not identify spiritual benefits
with gold and silver.
The besetting propensity of my ancestor soon
began to appear in Leaplow. Many of these pure
is in danger!” as stoutly as it was ever roared by
Sir Joseph Job, and dark allusions were made to
“revolutions” and “bayonets.” But certain proof
of the prevalence of the eclipse, and that the shadow
of Pecuniary Interest lay dark on the land, was to
be found in the language of what are called the
“few.” They began to throw dirt at all opposed
to them, like so many fish-women; a sure symptom
that the spirit of selfishness was thoroughly awakened.
From much experience, I hold this sign
to be infallible that the sentiment of aristocracy is
active and vigilant. I never yet visited a country
in which a minority got into its head the crotchet
it was alone fit to dictate to the rest of its fellow-creatures,
that it did not, without delay, set about
proving its position, by reviling and calling names.
In this particular “the few” are like women, who,
conscious of their weakness, seldom fail to make
up for the want of vigor in their limbs, by having
recourse to the vigor of the tongue. The “one”
hangs; the “many” command by the dignity of
force; the “few” vituperate and scold. This is, I
believe, the case all over the world, except in those
peculiar instances, in which the “few” happen also
to enjoy the privilege of hanging.
It is worthy of remark that the terms “rabble,”
“disorganizers,” “jacobins,” and “agrarians”[1]
were
this malign influence, with precisely the same justice,
discrimination and taste, as they had been used
by my ancestor in London, a few years before.
Like causes notoriously produce like effects; and
there is no one thing so much like an Englishman
under the property-fever, as a Leaplow monikin
suffering under the same malady.
The effect produced on the state of parties by
the passage of the shadow of Pecuniary Interest,
was so singular as to deserve our notice. Patriots
who had long been known for an indomitable resolution
to support their friends, openly abandoned their
claims on the rewards of the little wheel, and went
over to the enemy; and this, too, without recourse
to the mysteries of the “flap-jack.” Judge People's
Friend was completely annihilated for the moment—
so much so, indeed, as to think seriously of taking
another mission—for, during these eclipses, long service,
public virtue, calculated amenity, and all the
other bland qualities of your patriot, pass for nothing,
when weighed in the scale against profit and loss.
It was fortunate the Leapthrough question was, in its
essence, so well disposed of, though the uneasiness
of those who bought and sold land by the inch,
pushed even that interest before the public again,
by insisting that a few millions should be expended
in destroying the munitions of war, lest the nation
might improvidently be tempted to make use of
them in the natural way. The cruisers were accordingly
hauled into the stream and converted
into tide-mills, the gun-barrels were transformed
into gas-pipes, and the forts were converted, as fast
as possible, into warehouses and tea-gardens. After
this, it was much the fashion to affirm that the
advanced state of civilization had rendered all future
wars quite out of the question. Indeed, the impetus
way, to humanity in gross, was quite as remarkable
as were its contrary tendencies on humanity
in detail.
Public opinion was not backward in showing how
completely it was acting under the influence of the
shadow. Virtue began to be estimated by rent-rolls.
The affluent, without hesitation, or, indeed, opposition,
appropriated to themselves the sole use of the
word respectable, while taste, judgment, honesty,
and wisdom, dropped like so many heir-looms
quietly into the possession of those who had money.
The Leaplowers are a people of great acuteness,
and of singular knowledge of details. Every considerable
man in Bivouac soon had his social station
assigned him, the whole community being divided
into classes, of “hundred-thousand-dollar monikins”
—“fifty-thousand-dollar monikins”—“twenty-thousand-dollar
monikins.” Great conciseness in language
was a consequence of this state of feeling.
The old questions of `is he honest?' `is he capable?'
`is he enlightened?' `is he wise?' `is he good?'
being all comprehended in the single interrogatory
of `is he rich?'
There was one effect of this very unusual state
of things, that I had not anticipated. All the money-getting
classes, without exception, showed a singular
predilection in favor of what is commonly called
a strong government; and Leaplow being not only
a republic, but virtually a democracy, I found that
much the larger portion of this highly respectable
class of citizens, was not at all backward in expressing
its wish for a change.
“How is this?” I demanded of the Brigadier,
whom I rarely quitted; for his advice and opinions
were of great moment to me, just at this particular
crisis—“how is this, my good friend?—I have
favorable to liberty; and here are all your commercial
interests the loudest in their declamations
against the institutions.”
The Brigadier smiled; it was but a melancholy
smile, after all; for his spirits appeared to have
quite deserted him.
“There are three great divisions among politicians,”
he said;—“they who do not like liberty at
all—they who like it, as low down as their own
particular class—and they who like it, for the sake
of their fellow-creatures. The first are not numerous,
but powerful by means of combinations; the
second is a very irregular corps, including, as a
matter of course, nearly every body, but is wanting,
of necessity, in concert and discipline, since no
one descends below his own level; the third are but
few, alas, how few! and are composed of those
who look beyond their own selfishness. Now, your
merchants, dwelling in towns, and possessing concert,
means, and identity of interests, have been
able to make themselves remarkable for contending
with despotic power, a fact which has obtained for
them a cheap reputation for liberality of opinion;
but, so far as monikin experience goes—men may
have proved to be better disposed—no government
that is essentially influenced by commerce has ever
been otherwise than exclusive, or aristocratic.”
I bethought me of Venice, Genoa, Pisa, the Hanse
Towns, and all the other remarkable places of this
character in Europe, and I felt the justice of my
friend's distinction, at the same time I could not
but observe how much more the minds of men
are under the influence of names and abstractions,
than under the influence of positive things. To
this opinion the Brigadier very readily assented,
remarking, at the same time, that a well-wrought
fifty facts; a result that he attributed to the circumstance
of monikins having a besetting predisposition
to save themselves the trouble of thinking.
I was, in particular, struck with the effect of the
occultation of Principle on motives. I had often
remarked that it was by no means safe to depend
on one's own motives, for two sufficient reasons;
first, that we did not always know what our own
motives were; and secondly, admitting that we did,
it was quite unreasonable to suppose that our
friends would believe them what we thought them
to be ourselves. In the present instance, every
monikin seemed perfectly aware of the difficulty;
and, instead of waiting for his acquaintances to
attribute some moral enormity as his governing
reason, he prudently adopted a moderately selfish
inducement for his acts, which he proclaimed with
a simplicity and frankness that generally obtained
credit. Indeed, the fact once conceded that the
motive was not offensively disinterested and just,
no one was indisposed to listen to the projects of
his friend, who usually rose in estimation, as he was
found to be ingenious, calculating and shrewd.
The effect of all this was to render society singularly
sincere and plain-spoken; and one unaccustomed
to so much ingenuousness, or who was
ignorant of the cause, might, plausibly enough,
suppose, at times, that accident had thrown him into
an extraordinary association with so many artistes,
who, as it is commonly expressed, live by their wits.
I will avow that, had it been the fashion to wear
pockets at Leaplow, I should often have been concerned
for their contents; for sentiments so purely
unsophisticated, were so openly advanced under the
influence of the shadow, that one was inevitably
led, oftener than was pleasant, to think of the relations
unexpected causes by which they were sometimes
disturbed.
A vacancy occurred, the second day of the
eclipse, among the representatives of Bivouac, and
the candidate of the Horizontals would certainly
have been chosen to fill it, but for a contre-tems
connected with this affair of motives. The individual
in question had lately performed that which, in most
other countries, and under other circumstances,
would have passed for an act of creditable national
feeling; but which, quite as a matter of course, was
eagerly presented to the electors, by his opponents,
as a proof of his utter unfitness to be intrusted with
their interests. The friends of the candidate took
the alarm, and indignantly denied the charges of
the Perpendiculars, affirming that their monikin
had been well paid for what he had done. In an
evil hour, the candidate undertook to explain, by
means of a handbill, in which he stated that he had
been influenced by no other motive than a desire
to do that which he believed to be right. Such a
person was deemed to be wanting in natural abilities,
and, as a matter of course, he was defeated;
for your Leaplow elector was not such an ass as to
confide the care of his interests to one who knew
so little how to take care of his own.
About this time, too, a celebrated dramatist produced
a piece in which the hero performed prodigies
under the excitement of patriotism, and the
labor of his pen was incontinently damned for his
pains; both pit and boxes—the galleries dissenting—
deciding that it was out of all nature to represent a
monikin incurring danger, in this unheard-of manner,
without a motive. The unhappy wight altered
the last scene, by causing his hero to be rewarded
by a good, round sum of money, when the piece
though I question if it ever were as popular as
it would have been, had this precaution been taken
before it was first acted.
It is scarcely necessary to tell the intelligent reader
there is no proof that any political community was ever so
bent on self-destruction as to enact agrarian laws, in the vulgar
sense in which it has suited the arts of narrow-minded
politicians to represent them ever since the revival of letters.
The celebrated agrarian laws of Rome did not essentially differ
from the distribution of our own military lands, or perhaps
the similitude is greater to the modern Russian military colonies.
Those who feel an interest in this subject would do
well to consult Niebuhr.—Note by the Editor.
| CHAPTER XII. The monikins | |