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I inquired of whom they were speaking. "Don't you know Charles Gally?"
said the Exquisite, endeavouring to turn in his collar. "Not know
Charles Gally?" he repeated, with an expression of pity. "He is the
best fellow breathing; only lives to laugh and make others laugh:
drinks his two bottles with any man, and rides the finest mare I ever
saw--next to my Angelica. Not know Charles Gally? Why, everybody knows
him! He is so amusing! Ha! ha! And tells such admirable stories! Ha!
ha! Often have they kept me awake"--a yawn--"when nothing else could."
"Poor fellow!" said his lordship; "I understand he's done for ten
thousand!" "I never believe more than half what the world says,"
observed Candour. "He that has not a farthing," said Caustic, "cares
little whether he owes ten thousand or five." "Thank Heaven!" said
Candour, "that will never be the case with Charles: he has a fine
estate in Leicestershire." "Mortgaged for half its value," said his
lordship. "A large personal property!" "All gone in annuity bills,"
said the Exquisite. "A rich uncle upwards of fourscore!" "He'll cut him
off with a shilling," said Caustic.

"Let us hope he may reform," sighed the Hypocrite; "and sell the pack,"
added the Nobleman; "and marry," continued the Dandy. "Pshaw!" cried
the Satirist, "he will never get rid of his habits, his hounds, or his
horns." "But he has an excellent heart," said Candour. "Excellent,"
repeated his lordship unthinkingly. "Excellent," lisped the Fop
effeminately. "Excellent," exclaimed the Wit ironically. We took this
opportunity to ask by what means so excellent a heart and so bright a
genius had contrived to plunge him into these disasters. "He was my
friend," replied his lordship, "and a man of large property; but he was
mad--quite mad. I remember his leaping a lame pony over a stone wall,
simply because Sir Marmaduke bet him a dozen that he broke his neck in
the attempt; and sending a bullet through a poor pedlar's pack because
Bob Darrell said the piece wouldn't carry so far." "Upon another
occasion," began the Exquisite, in his turn, "he jumped into a
horse-pond after dinner, in order to prove it was not six feet deep;
and overturned a bottle of eau-de-cologne in Lady Emilia's face, to
convince me that she was not painted. Poor fellow! The first experiment
cost him a dress, and the second an heiress." "I have heard," resumed
the Nobleman, "that he lost his election for ---- by lampooning the
mayor; and was dismissed from his place in the Treasury for challenging
Lord C----." "The last accounts I heard of him," said Caustic, "told me
that Lady Tarrel had forbid him her house for driving a sucking-pig
into her drawing-room; and that young Hawthorn had run him through for
boasting of favours from his sister!" "These gentlemen are really too
severe," remarked young Candour to us. "Not a jot," we said to
ourselves.

"This will be a terrible blow for his sister," said a young man who had
been listening in silence. "A fine girl--a very fine girl," said the
Exquisite. "And a fine fortune," said the Nobleman; "the mines of Peru
are nothing to her." "Nothing at all," observed the Sneerer; "she has
no property there. But I would not have you caught, Harry; her income
was good, but is dipped, horribly dipped. Guineas melt very fast when
the cards are put by them." "I was not aware Maria was a gambler,"
said the young man, much alarmed. "Her brother is, sir," replied his
informant. The querist looked sorry, but yet relieved. We could see
that he was not quite disinterested in his inquiries. "However,"
resumed the young Cynic, "his profusion has at least obtained him many
noble and wealthy friends." He glanced at his hearers, and went on: "No
one that knew him will hear of his distresses without being forward to
relieve them. He will find interest for his money in the hearts of his
friends." Nobility took snuff; Foppery played with his watch-chain;
Hypocrisy looked grave. There was long silence. We ventured to regret
the misuse of natural talents, which, if properly directed, might have
rendered their possessor useful to the interests of society and
celebrated in the records of his country. Everyone stared, as if we
were talking Hebrew. "Very true," said his lordship, "he enjoys great
talents. No man is a nicer judge of horseflesh. He beats me at
billiards, and Harry at picquet; he's a dead shot at a button, and can
drive his curricle-wheels over a brace of sovereigns." "Radicalism,"
says Caustic, looking round for a laugh. "He is a great amateur of
pictures," observed the Exquisite, "and is allowed to be quite a
connoisseur in beauty; but there," simpering, "everyone must claim the
privilege of judging for themselves." "Upon my word," said Candour,
"you allow poor Charles too little. I have no doubt he has great
courage--though, to be sure, there was a whisper that young Hawthorn
found him rather shy; and I am convinced he is very generous, though I
must confess that I have it from good authority that his younger
brother was refused the loan of a hundred when Charles had pigeoned
that fool of a nabob but the evening before. I would stake my existence
that he is a man of unshaken honour--though, when he eased Lieutenant
Hardy of his pay, there certainly was an awkward story about the
transaction, which was never properly cleared up. I hope that when
matters are properly investigated he will be liberated from all his
embarrassments; though I am sorry to be compelled to believe that he
has been spending double the amount of his income annually. But I trust
that all will be adjusted. I have no doubt upon the subject." "Nor I,"
said Caustic. "We shall miss him prodigiously at the Club," said the
Dandy, with a slight shake of the head. "What a bore!" replied the
Nobleman, with a long yawn. We could hardly venture to express
compassion for a character so despicable. Our auditors, however,
entertained very different opinions of right and wrong! "Poor fellow!
he was much to be pitied: had done some very foolish things--to say the
truth was a sad scoundrel--but then he was always so mad." And having
come unanimously to this decision, the conclave dispersed.

Charles gave an additional proof of his madness within a week after
this discussion by swallowing laudanum. The verdict of the coroner's
inquest confirmed the judgment of his four friends. For our own parts
we must pause before we give in to so dangerous a doctrine. Here is a
man who has outraged the laws of honour, the ties of relationship, and
the duties of religion: he appears before us in the triple character of
a libertine, a swindler, and a suicide. Yet his follies, his vices, his
crimes, are all palliated or even applauded by this specious _facon de
parler_--"He was mad--quite mad!"




BENJAMIN DISRAELI (LORD BEACONSFIELD).

(1805-1881.)


LXV. POPANILLA ON MAN.

This racy piece of satire is taken from Lord Beaconsfield's
mock-heroic romance--written in imitation of _Gulliver's
Travels,--The Voyage of Captain Popanilla_, of which it forms the
fourth chapter.


Six months had elapsed since the first chest of the cargo of Useful
Knowledge destined for the fortunate Maldives had been digested by the
recluse Popanilla; for a recluse he had now become. Great students are
rather dull companions. Our Fantasian friend, during his first studies,
was as moody, absent, and querulous as are most men of genius during
that mystical period of life. He was consequently avoided by the men
and quizzed by the women, and consoled himself for the neglect of the
first and the taunts of the second by the indefinite sensation that he
should, some day or other, turn out that little being called a great
man. As for his mistress, she considered herself insulted by being
addressed by a man who had lost her lock of hair. When the chest was
exhausted, Popanilla was seized with a profound melancholy. Nothing
depresses a man's spirits more completely than a self-conviction of
self-conceit; and Popanilla, who had been accustomed to consider
himself and his companions as the most elegant portion of the visible
creation, now discovered, with dismay, that he and his fellow-islanders
were nothing more than a horde of useless savages.

This mortification, however, was soon succeeded by a proud
consciousness that he, at any rate, was now civilized; and that proud
consciousness by a fond hope that in a short time he might become a
civilizer. Like all projectors, he was not of sanguine temperament; but
he did trust that in the course of another season the Isle of Fantaisie
might take its station among the nations. He was determined, however,
not to be too rapid. It cannot be expected that ancient prejudices can
in a moment be eradicated, and new modes of conduct instantaneously
substituted and established. Popanilla, like a wise man, determined to
conciliate. His views were to be as liberal as his principles were
enlightened. Men should be forced to do nothing. Bigotry and
intolerance and persecution were the objects of his decided
disapprobation; resembling, in this particular, all the great and good
men who have ever existed, who have invariably maintained this opinion
so long as they have been in the minority.

Popanilla appeared once more in the world.

"Dear me! is that you, Pop?" exclaimed the ladies. "What have you been
doing with yourself all this time? Travelling, I suppose. Everyone
travels now. Really you travelled men get quite bores. And where did
you get that coat, if it be a coat?"

Such was the style in which the Fantasian females saluted the
long-absent Popanilla; and really, when a man shuts himself up from the
world for a considerable time, and fancies that in condescending to
re-enter it he has surely the right to expect the homage due to a
superior being, the salutations are awkward. The ladies of England
peculiarly excel in this species of annihilation; and while they
continue to drown puppies, as they daily do, in a sea of sarcasm, I
think no true Englishman will hesitate one moment in giving them the
preference for tact and manner over all the vivacious French, all the
self-possessing Italian, and all the tolerant German women. This is a
clap-trap, and I have no doubt will sell the book.

Popanilla, however, had not re-entered society with the intention of
subsiding into a nonentity, and he therefore took the opportunity, a
few minutes after sunset, just as his companions were falling into the
dance, to beg the favour of being allowed to address his sovereign only
for one single moment.

"Sire!" said he, in that mild tone of subdued superciliousness with
which we should always address kings, and which, while it vindicates
our dignity, satisfactorily proves that we are above the vulgar passion
of envy. "Sire!" But let us not encourage that fatal faculty of oratory
so dangerous to free states, and therefore let us give the "substance
of Popanilla's speech".[233] He commenced his address in a manner
somewhat resembling the initial observations of those pleasing
pamphlets which are the fashion of the present hour, and which, being
intended to diffuse information among those who have not enjoyed the
opportunity and advantages of study, and are consequently of a gay and
cheerful disposition, treat of light subjects in a light and polished
style. Popanilla, therefore, spoke of man in a savage state, the origin
of society, and the elements of the social compact, in sentences which
would not have disgraced the mellifluous pen of Bentham. From these he
naturally digressed into an agreeable disquisition on the Anglo-Saxons;
and, after a little badinage on the Bill of Rights, flew off to an airy
_apercu_ of the French Revolution. When he had arrived at the Isle of
Fantaisie he begged to inform His Majesty that man was born for
something else besides enjoying himself. It was, doubtless, extremely
pleasant to dance and sing, to crown themselves with chaplets, and to
drink wine; but he was "free to confess" that he did not imagine that
the most barefaced hireling of corruption could for a moment presume to
maintain that there was any utility in pleasure. If there were no
utility in pleasure, it was quite clear that pleasure could profit no
one. If, therefore, it were unprofitable, it was injurious, because
that which does not produce a profit is equivalent to a loss; therefore
pleasure is a losing business; consequently pleasure is not pleasant.

He also showed that man was not born for himself, but for society; that
the interests of the body are alone to be considered, and not those of
the individual; and that a nation might be extremely happy, extremely
powerful, and extremely rich, although every individual member of it
might at the same time be miserable, dependent, and in debt. He
regretted to observe that no one in the island seemed in the slightest
degree conscious of the object of his being. Man is created for a
purpose; the object of his existence is to perfect himself. Man is
imperfect by nature, because if nature had made him perfect he would
have had no wants; and it is only by supplying his wants that utility
can be developed. The development of utility is therefore the object of
our being, and the attainment of this great end the cause of our
existence. This principle clears all doubts, and rationally accounts
for a state of existence which has puzzled many pseudo-philosophers.

Popanilla then went on to show that the hitherto received definitions
of man were all erroneous; that man is neither a walking animal, nor a
talking animal, nor a cooking animal, nor a lounging animal, nor a
debt-incurring animal, nor a tax-paying animal, nor a printing animal,
nor a puffing animal, but a _developing animal_. Development is the
discovery of utility. By developing the water we get fish; by
developing the earth we get corn, and cash, and cotton; by developing
the air we get breath; by developing the fire we get heat. Thus the
use of the elements is demonstrated to the meanest capacity. But it was
not merely a material development to which he alluded; a moral
development was equally indispensable. He showed that it was impossible
for a nation either to think too much or to do too much. The life of
man was therefore to be passed in a moral and material development
until he had consummated his perfection. It was the opinion of
Popanilla that this great result was by no means so near at hand as
some philosophers flattered themselves, and that it might possibly
require another half-century before even the most civilized nation
could be said to have completed the destiny of the human race. At the
same time, he intimated that there were various extraordinary means by
which this rather desirable result might be facilitated; and there was
no saying what the building of a new University might do, of which,
when built, he had no objection to be appointed Principal.

In answer to those who affect to admire that deficient system of
existence which they style simplicity of manners, and who are
perpetually committing the blunder of supposing that every advance
towards perfection only withdraws man further from his primitive and
proper condition, Popanilla triumphantly demonstrated that no such
order as that which they associated with the phrase "state of nature"
ever existed. "Man", said he, "is called the masterpiece of nature; and
man is also, as we all know, the most curious of machines. Now, a
machine is a work of art; consequently the masterpiece of nature is the
masterpiece of art. The object of all mechanism is the attainment of
utility; the object of man, who is the most perfect machine, is utility
in the highest degree. Can we believe, therefore, that this machine was
ever intended for a state which never could have called forth its
powers, a state in which no utility could ever have been attained, a
state in which there are no wants, consequently no demand, consequently
no supply, consequently no competition, consequently no invention,
consequently no profits; only one great pernicious monopoly of comfort
and ease? Society without wants is like a world without winds. It is
quite clear, therefore, that there is no such thing as Nature; Nature
is Art, or Art is Nature; that which is most useful is most natural,
because utility is the test of nature; therefore a steam-engine is in
fact a much more natural production than a mountain.

"You are convinced, therefore," he continued, "by these observations,
that it is impossible for an individual or a nation to be too
artificial in their manners, their ideas, their laws, or their general
policy; because, in fact, the more artificial you become, the nearer
you approach that state of nature of which you are so perpetually
talking." Here observing that some of his audience appeared to be a
little sceptical, perhaps only surprised, he told them that what he
said must be true, because it entirely consisted of first principles.

After having thus preliminarily descanted for about two hours,
Popanilla informed His Majesty that he was unused to public speaking,
and then proceeded to show that the grand characteristic of the social
action of the Isle of Fantaisie was a total want of development. This
he observed with equal sorrow and surprise; he respected the wisdom of
their ancestors; at the same time, no one could deny that they were
both barbarous and ignorant; he highly esteemed also the constitution,
but regretted that it was not in the slightest degree adapted to the
existing want of society; he was not for destroying any establishments,
but, on the contrary, was for courteously affording them the
opportunity of self-dissolution. He finished by re-urging, in strong
terms, the immediate development of the island. In the first place, a
great metropolis must be instantly built, because a great metropolis
always produces a great demand; and, moreover, Popanilla had some legal
doubts whether a country without a capital could in fact be considered
a state. Apologizing for having so long trespassed upon the attention
of the assembly, he begged distinctly to state that he had no wish to
see His Majesty and his fellow-subjects adopt these new principles
without examination and without experience. They might commence on a
small scale; let them cut down their forests, and by turning them into
ships and houses discover the utility of timber; let the whole island
be dug up; let canals be cut, docks be built, and all the elephants be
killed directly, that their teeth might yield an immediate article for
exportation. A short time would afford a sufficient trial. In the
meanwhile, they would not be pledged to further measures, and these
might be considered "only as an experiment". Taking for granted that
these principles would be acted on, and taking into consideration the
site of the island in the map of the world, the nature and extent of
its resources, its magnificent race of human beings, its varieties of
the animal creation, its wonderfully fine timber, its undeveloped
mineral treasures, the spaciousness of its harbours, and its various
facilities for extended international communication, Popanilla had no
hesitation in saying that a short time could not elapse ere, instead of
passing their lives in a state of unprofitable ease and useless
enjoyment, they might reasonably expect to be the terror and
astonishment of the universe, and to be able to annoy every nation of
any consequence.

Here, observing a smile upon His Majesty's countenance, Popanilla told
the king that he was only a chief magistrate, and he had no more right
to laugh at him than a parish constable. He concluded by observing
that although what he at present urged might appear strange,
nevertheless, if the listeners had been acquainted with the characters
and cases of Galileo and Turgot, they would then have seen, as a
necessary consequence, that his system was perfectly correct, and he
himself a man of extraordinary merit.

Here the chief magistrate, no longer daring to smile, burst into a fit
of laughter, and, turning to his courtiers, said: "I have not an idea
what this man is talking about, but I know that he makes my head ache.
Give me a cup of wine, and let us have a dance."

All applauded the royal proposition; and pushing Popanilla from one to
another, until he was fairly hustled to the brink of the lagoon, they
soon forgot the existence of this bore; in one word, he was cut. When
Popanillo found himself standing alone, and looking grave while all the
rest were gay, he began to suspect that he was not so influential a
personage as he previously imagined. Rather crestfallen, he sneaked
home; and consoled himself for having nobody to speak to by reading
some amusing "Conversations on Political Economy".

[Footnote 233: _Substance of a speech_, in Parliamentary language,
means a printed edition of an harangue which contains all that was
uttered in the House, and about as much again.]




ROBERT BROWNING.

(1812-1890.)


LXVI. CRISTINA.

From _Dramatic Lyrics_; written in 1842.


I.

She should never have looked at me if she meant I should not love her.
There are plenty ... men, you call such, I suppose ... she may discover.
All her soul to, if she pleases, and yet leave much as she found them;
But I'm not so, and she knew it when she fixed me, glancing round them.

II.

What? To fix me thus meant nothing? But I can't tell (there's my
weakness)
What her look said!--no vile cant, sure, about "need to strew the
bleakness
Of some lone shore with its pearl-seed, that the sea feels"--no
"strange yearning
That such souls have, most to lavish where there's chance of least
returning".

III.

Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! but not quite so sunk that
moments,
Sure tho' seldom, are denied us, when the spirit's true endowments
Stand out plainly from its false ones, and apprise it if pursuing
Or the right way or the wrong way, to its triumph or undoing.

IV.

There are flashes struck from midnights, there are fire-flames
noondays kindle,
Whereby piled-up honours perish, whereby swollen ambitions dwindle,
While just this or that poor impulse, which for once had play unstifled,
Seems the sole work of a life-time that away the rest have trifled.

V.

Doubt you if, in some such moment, as she fixed me, she felt clearly,
Ages past the soul existed, here an age 'tis resting merely,
And hence fleets again for ages: while the true end, sole and single,
It stops here for is, this love-way, with some other soul to mingle?

VI.

Else it loses what it lived for, and eternally must lose it;
Better ends may be in prospect, deeper blisses (if you choose it),
But this life's end and this love-bliss have been lost here. Doubt you
whether
This she felt as, looking at me, mine and her souls rushed together?

VII.

Oh, observe! Of course, next moment, the world's honours, in derision,
Trampled out the light for ever. Never fear but there's provision
Of the devil's to quench knowledge, lest we walk the earth in rapture!
--Making those who catch God's secret, just so much more prize their
capture!

VIII.

Such am I: the secret's mine now! She has lost me, I have gained her;
Her soul's mine: and thus, grown perfect, I shall pass my life's
remainder.
Life will just hold out the proving both our powers, alone and blended:
And then, come next life quickly! This world's use will have been ended.



LXVII. THE LOST LEADER.

From _Dramatic Lyrics_; written in 1845.


I.

Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat--
Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,
Lost all the others, she lets us devote;
They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,
So much was theirs who so little allowed:
How all our copper had gone for his service!
Rags--were they purple, his heart had been proud!
We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him,
Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,
Learned his great language, caught his clear accents,
Made him our pattern to live and to die?
Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us,
Burns, Shelley, were with us,--they watch from their graves!
He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,
He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves!

II.

We shall march prospering,--not thro' his presence;
Songs may inspirit us,--not from his lyre;
Deeds will be done,--while he boasts his quiescence,
Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire.
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,
One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,
One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for angels,
One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!
Life's night begins: let him never come back to us!
There would be doubt, hesitation and pain,
Forced praise on our part--the glimmer of twilight,
Never glad confident morning again!
Best fight on well, for we taught him--strike gallantly,
Menace our heart ere we master his own;
Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us
Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!

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