possible," observed the young merchant. "My not having received any
communication from my father, and my knowledge of the unsettled state of
the country, makes me fear that the government have got the upper hand
again, and that they have made my father the victim of their vengeance."
"They daren't harm him, sir," replied the old man; "they daren't harm a
hair o' his head; they knows of old how popular he is, and how popular
he desarves to be; and they must have a pretty considerable winkin' that
they'll be left among breakers if they 'tempts to steer that course. I
arn't no great politician, but it's as plain as a marlin spike to me,
that if they bore down upon master Porphyry after that fashion, they'd
get such a broadside from the people as 'ould sew 'em all up in their
hammocks in very little time."
"I hope I shall arrive before they can execute their evil intentions, if
such intentions they have," remarked Oriel. "In case I should require
their services, do you think I could depend on the crew of this ship?"
"On ev'ry mother's son of 'em," said the captain, with emphasis. "Ev'ry
man in the vessel's selected, and most ov 'em have sailed wi' me at
some time or other. There arn't a braver or more skilful crew afloat;
and if 'tis required that they shall bear a hand in defence o' master
Porphyry, I've got a notion there's nothin' they'd do wi' half so much
'lacrity. Master Porphyry ha' done so much good in his time that there's
scarcely a cretur livin' as has'nt through his friends or relations
profited by it in some degree, and it arn't in the natur o' a seaman not
to be grateful. As for me, when I've had never a shot in the locker,
master Porphyry, more nor once, has made me comfortable inside and out,
and sent me afloat, laden wi' summat else besides ballast; and if I
don't stand among the foremost in any shindy as you've a mind to kick
up, and don't sarve out the lubbers as would be tryin' to circumvent
your honourable old father, I'll give you leave to slice me into
pea-shells and dish me up into hogswash."
"I'm perfectly satisfied with your fidelity, captain," said the young
merchant, "and I am very much gratified by hearing that I can depend
upon the crew. There's no knowing what may happen, and you and your
men might render me service of the highest value. If the struggle
I anticipate is to be made, every brave man will be an important
acquisition."
"If we could only get together all the craft as master Porphyry
possesses, scrunch me! if we shouldn't be able to turn 'em inside out,
wi' as much ease as a fellow might take in a reef," exclaimed the old
man.
"That cannot be done without the sacrifice of more time than I can
spare," observed Oriel. "My great object is to arrive in the metropolis
before the government can find an opportunity for working out its
schemes, as I feel convinced that they only wait occasion to resume the
influence of which they were dispossessed. If I am in time to prevent
their intrigues, I will speedily take such measures as shall put it out
of their power to make any attempt of the kind; and if the mischief
should be done previous to my arrival, I will make such a stir in the
country as shall shake them out of their ill-got authority before they
have had time to exercise it."
"I maintain that the ancients greatly excel us!" exclaimed Fortyfolios
in a loud voice, as he approached the place where the captain and the
young merchant were conversing.
"And I maintain quite the reverse, don't you see," replied the doctor.
"Think of their universities, their schools, their royal academies
of painting and music, their royal societies for the advancement of
science, their extensive libraries, their galleries of art, and the
wonderful degree of perfection they attained in mechanics," said the
professor.
"As for their universities," observed Tourniquet, "they distinguished
themselves most by their bigoted attachment to prejudices that had long
been exploded in every other part of the community. They wasted a vast
deal of time and intellect in teaching all such knowledge as was most
unprofitable; and this was what they called a classical education. It
consisted in making the student devote the best portion of his life in
learning one or two languages which were never spoken by the living,
and in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred could not be of the slightest
advantage to the learner. A facility in the making of Latin verses,
which had no pretension to the name of poetry, was looked upon as
evidence of great merit; and he who could put together a few sentences
in Greek, unmarked by one original idea, was regarded as a genius which
his college ought to be proud of."
"Do you mean to affirm that the dead languages are not worthy of study?"
inquired Fortyfolios.
"I affirm nothing of the kind, don't you see," replied the doctor. "I
only maintain that the time devoted to their acquisition in the system
of education pursued by the ancients might have been more advantageously
employed. Both the teachers and the taught enslaved their minds with the
same shackles. What loads of paper have been spoiled by the labours of
some learned blockhead on the Greek particle, or by the annotations and
interpretations of some laborious trifles attempting to elucidate the
meaning of some obscure Latin writer. But there is a greater mischief
in this than the mere worthlessness of what it produces. The exclusive
attention which is required to gain a mastery over a dead language
stifles the affections and narrows the intellect. It makes men egotists
and bigots; ignorant, prejudiced, proud, and quarrelsome. What was
Bentley? what was Parr? what was Johnson? what was Porson? What were all
who distinguished themselves by such great talents in small things? Were
they temperate, or modest, or amiable? moderate in their enjoyments,
or inoffensive in their behaviour? Were they not the very reverse of
these?"
"They were great scholars," observed the professor.
"They were great fools, don't you see," said the other sharply. "A man
who offends against decency, who is quarrelsome and imperious, knows not
the respect he owes himself or the courtesies which are due to society;
and his actions, if they are not crimes, must certainly be follies.
As for his wisdom--as for the wisdom of the grammarian, or the mere
number of books comparatively useless, his is the knowledge of a man
who has lived all his life in the narrow circuit of a little village; he
may know every brick in every house, and may be familiar with the exact
state and quantity of every dunghill there to be met with: but take him
out into the open world, and he knows nothing but the prejudices of the
place from which he came."
"That does not prove that the learning of the ancients is unworthy of
study," remarked Fortyfolios.
"Who are the ancients?" inquired Tourniquet. "The English are our
ancients, the Romans were their ancients, the Greeks were the ancients
of the Romans, and the Egyptians were the ancients of the Greeks: the
Hindoos, or the Chinese, were the ancients of the Egyptians; and if we
could look to a more remote period, we should be sure to find a people
who also had their ancients. It is a very strange idea of the world to
expect to progress by always looking back, don't you see. The learning
of our predecessors may always be worthy of study if it be superior to
the learning in existence; but it has been the system of universities
and public schools to concentrate the attention of the studious upon the
learning of the ancients, to the neglect of a knowledge more available
and of far more practical utility."
"It is strange, then, that the public schools and universities of
the English should have produced so many illustrious men!" said the
professor.
"I maintain that their most illustrious men were not produced in the
public schools, don't you see," replied the doctor. "Of philosophers,
Bacon, Hume, Hobbes, Berkley, Shaftesbury, Dugald Stewart, and Hartley;
of men of science, Newton, Flamstead, Napier, Davy, Priestley, and
Black; of statesmen, Burleigh, Clarendon, Wolsey, Cromwell, Raleigh,
Temple, Burke, and Pitt; of divines, Tillotson, Chillingworth, More,
Jeremy Taylor, Selden, and Sherlock; of heroes, Hampden, Russell,
Marlborough, Clive, and Wolfe; and of poets, Shakspeare, Ben Jonson,
Spenser, Goldsmith, Pope, and Thomson; besides numberless others I
cannot now remember; attained their eminence without any assistance from
public schools."
"I suppose you equally condemn their royal societies and academies?"
inquired Fortyfolios.
"I do, so far as concerns their utility, don't you see," said
Tourniquet. "Did their royal societies ever produce a great man? What
eminent philosopher or distinguished man of science did they ever
create? And as for their royal academies, when you can point out to me
the great painters and great musicians they have given to the world, I
will acknowledge the benefit society has received from them, but not
till then."
"It is not to be expected that all institutions will perfectly answer
the end for which they were designed," remarked the professor. "The
object for which they were founded was wise and admirable, and to a
certain extent they realise that object. They collect together the
talent in the country, and then as much as possible make it known to
the public."
"They neglect much more talent than they collect, don't you see,"
replied the doctor; "and these being usually governed by a select few
who have no conception of such a thing as impartiality, he is considered
the greatest man amongst them who possesses the most patronage. But the
manner in which superior intelligence was regarded by the government of
England was exceedingly discouraging to men of genius. They would lavish
pensions upon profligates, spies, political apostates, the tools of
power, and the slaves of intrigue; but the man who strived to exercise
talents from which his country would derive a certain and lasting
advantage was left to struggle on without the slightest assistance. Any
person, however ignorant, if he could manage by prostituting his soul
to every kind of meanness and chicanery to scrape together a sufficient
sum of money, might aspire to the dignity of a title of honour; and
sometimes, but very rarely, the same title was conferred upon a
favourite painter or physician; minds of the highest order were obliged
to be satisfied without any such distinction. The pliant orator, the
successful soldier, and the ready lawyer were ennobled; but genius, and
virtue, and honour, and worth, such as were developed in the wisest and
best of men, were not thought worthy of a regard."
"Notwithstanding all this, the literature, and science, and art of
England flourished till it became the admiration of surrounding nations,
and excited the wonder of each succeeding generation," observed the
professor.
"Which proves that neither universities, nor public schools, nor royal
societies, nor academies, nor artificial distinctions, such as existed
in England, were of any advantage in increasing the intelligence of the
people, don't you see," added his companion. "All such institutions
might be rendered highly serviceable to the state; but the system upon
which they were conducted was so faulty, their government so illiberal,
and their influence so ineffective, that I cannot conscientiously afford
to give them any praise, as they existed among the ancients. As for
their extensive libraries, on what principle could a government defend
the policy of not only withholding from men of genius the patronage
they ought to afford them, but robbing every author of several copies
of every book he produced without the slightest recompence--merely for
the purpose of augmenting their libraries? The wealthiest state then
existing was guilty of this meanness. The philosopher might exist as
he could--starve--die--rot--in any obscure hole in which he could find
refuge, without attracting the least attention: but immediately his
works were published--no matter how expensive they were to him, or how
much labour and suffering they had cost him--down came a demand for
eleven copies for the public libraries, for which the author never in
any shape saw a consideration."
"But the author had proper protection for his publications," said
Fortyfolios.
"Nothing of the kind," replied the doctor; "the law of copyright, as it
was called, then in existence for the protection of authors in the sale
of their works, was the most bungling atrocity that ever originated in a
legislature. An author was allowed to possess his property, the product
of his own labour, _only_ for a certain time. Any man might leave to his
heir the land he had received from his father--any man was allowed to
bestow on his child the wealth that he possessed; but the children
of the man of genius could not inherit any right in the acknowledged
property of their parent. After the term had expired in which he was
allowed to possess his own--think of their generosity in allowing
this!--his labours might enrich any one who chose to make them
profitable, and he and his children, and his children's children, were
left to starve. The man who writes a book which acquires a certain value
by publication, has as much right to consider all the profits it may
produce as belonging to him and to his heirs for ever, as is the man who
becomes possessed of land or other property entitled to continue it in
the possession of his family from generation to generation: and it is
nothing better than an act of robbery for any government to deprive
either of a right to which they have so perfect a claim."
"But you have said nothing about the perfection to which they carried
their machinery," said the professor. "I think the ancients deserve our
thanks for their mechanical inventions."
"I cannot confer praise on any invention, however brilliant it may be,
that must come into operation at the expense of human sufferings, don't
you see," observed the other; "and all those machines which were brought
into use for the purpose of diminishing the amount of manual employment,
did produce a very great degree of human wretchedness. It may be very
satisfactory to some parties, to consider that the country becomes more
wealthy according to the increasing facility with which its manufactures
are sent to market; but the time must come, if this rapidity of creating
produce continue, when the supply must exceed the demand, and then
finding an inadequate market for its manufactures, the country must
become poor. But while this result is gradually brought about by
the manufacturers endeavouring to produce their goods by means of
machinery, at as little cost and with as great facility as it is
possible to attain, the thousands who gained their subsistence by the
labour which these machines have supplied, are left without a resource;
they must crawl out the remainder of their miserable lives as they can,
and are left to famish, to beg, or to steal. It is pleasant, perhaps, to
know that machinery allows you to purchase half a dozen pairs of shoes
at the price you formerly paid for one, but while every one can get
shoes for a trifle, they who make them can neither get shoes nor bread."
"Are you still arguing, gentlemen?" inquired Oriel Porphyry as he
returned from another part of the ship to which he had proceeded with
the captain on the approach of the philosophers. "There certainly must
be a great fascination in your method of reasoning, or you would either
be tired of talking, or want subjects to talk about. What has been the
matter in debate on this occasion?"
"We have been arguing upon the superiority of the ancients over the
moderns," replied the professor. "I maintained and do still maintain,
that the ancients far exceeded us in intelligence, in skill, and in
every thing which is a sign of superior civilisation. Their works of
learning are invaluable--their efforts in art not to be surpassed--their
discoveries in science have been the admiration of every succeeding
age."
"And what says the doctor to this?" inquired the young merchant.
Fortyfolios looked round, and discovered that his antagonist had left
the field.
CHAP. VIII.
LOVE MISPLACED.
Zabra's disposition appeared to have undergone a complete change. He
was no longer to be found in the cabin delighting every one with the
stirring eloquence of his language, or on the quarter-deck instructing
the gentle Lilya in the wonders of the ship. Instead of, as had hitherto
been the case, seeking the company of Oriel Porphyry as the greatest
enjoyment he possessed, he had for several days avoided every place
where they were likely to meet. He roamed about the vessel without
attempting to converse with either officers or crew, and if any one
ventured to address him, the proud look with which the speaker was
regarded, as the young creole turned away, was sufficiently repulsive to
prevent the experiment being repeated. Even those with whom he had used
to be on terms of intimacy, the captain and the young midshipman, were
passed by with the same gloomy look. Every one wondered at the change,
and all were ignorant of the cause.
Oriel more than once sought him for the purpose of inquiring the reason
of his strange conduct, with the intention of endeavouring to induce him
to return to his usual place, as his friend and companion; but the youth
fled from his approach so determinedly, and treated his messages with
such a studied neglect, that the young merchant, imagining that Zabra
was in one of his mysterious moods, at last abandoned all intention
of interfering, expecting that in a day or two he would become more
reasonable, and join in the cabin circle as usual. Oriel Porphyry had
observed so much in the behaviour of his friend that was extraordinary,
that he had ceased to be surprised by the strange way in which he
frequently acted. His conduct, therefore, in this instance, did not
excite in him any particular attention or remark. But no one appeared to
regard Zabra's unsocial manner with so deep an interest as Lilya. She
felt severely his estrangement from her society: all her pleasures
seemed to be completely annihilated by his absence. It was evident that
his kind attentions had not been lost upon her grateful disposition, for
she was too artless to disguise her feelings, and her sentiments in his
favour seemed too evident to be misinterpreted. His handsome features,
so warm and eloquent in their expression--his lustrous eyes, shining
with so soft a light--and his youthful figure, so buoyant and elastic,
had from the first awakened in her breast a feeling of surprise and
admiration that was both strange and delightful. A new world seemed
rising before her eyes. She entered into a different state of existence.
All around her breathed an atmosphere of happiness that made her
previous pleasures appear dull and cold; and then she found no enjoyment
except in being near him, and when he kindly endeavoured to lead her
mind to the contemplation of such subjects as were likely to interest,
to amuse, and instruct her simple nature, as the fire of youthful
enthusiasm shone in his brilliant gaze, and his intellectual countenance
kept changing its expression in accord with the different feelings which
the subject created, she held her breath, as if she thought that there
was something in what she saw that the least disturbance would destroy;
and hung upon his words as if there was a charm in their sound which,
once destroyed, could never be created again.
In the lessons with which he sought to enlighten her untutored
intellect, her feelings had participated. Her timid nature acquired
confidence in his presence. She more frequently sought than shrunk from
his society; and she forgot that she was alone upon the world without
a single connecting tie to associate her with its sympathies. It was
from such feelings as these that she was first disturbed by Zabra's
unaccountable and unkind behaviour. In vain she endeavoured to find a
reasonable cause for such conduct in any thing she had done; she knew
nothing in which she could have offended, except in not having appeared
sufficiently grateful to Oriel Porphyry; and this fault of hers
she reflected on so long, that she began to regard it as something
particularly heinous, and became daily more desirous of attempting, by
a different behaviour, to repair the wrong she had committed.
She strived as much as possible to get rid of her natural bashfulness,
and sought out the young merchant with the design of repairing her fault
in the best way she could. After considerable hesitation and frequent
desire to turn back as she proceeded, she ventured as far as the cabin
door; where, after waiting a considerable time, daring neither to go on,
or to return, she knocked gently. A voice kindly bid her come in, and
with a palpitating heart she opened the door and entered.
"Ah, Lilya!" exclaimed Oriel, who sat alone studying a book of military
exercises, "this is an unexpected pleasure." Then hastening towards her
with a smile of welcome, he led her blushing and trembling to the sofa.
"I hope you will not any longer be such a truant as you have proved
yourself," said the young merchant, kindly.
"Have I been a truant?" asked the timid girl.
"Yes you have, and a very sad truant too," replied Oriel Porphyry, with
a smile.
"How sorry I am!" murmured Lilya, looking deeply concerned, though she
knew not what wrong she had committed.
"Well, I will forgive you if you will promise not to repeat the
offence," said Oriel. "You must let me see you more frequently. It is
not kind of you to absent yourself from your best friends. Remember that
in me you will always find a friend ready to do any thing that is likely
to insure your happiness. Will you promise me, that you will not keep
away from me as you have done?"
"If you will forgive me, I will promise any thing that is proper for
me to do," replied the bashful maiden, appearing by her downcast eyes
afraid to look upon her companion.
"Of course I will forgive you," responded the other affectionately,
taking one of her hands in his. "There can be very little difficulty in
my doing that."
"But there is something else," said Lilya, trembling like a condemned
criminal.
"What else can there be?" inquired Oriel.
"Something else for you to forgive," replied the timid girl.
"Indeed, I was not aware of its existence," responded the young
merchant. "Tell me what it is. It will give me pleasure to forgive you."
"I have never told you how grateful I am for your kindness to me,"
murmured his fair companion in a voice scarcely audible. "But indeed I
feel it. I cannot help seeing how good you are, and--and--and I like you
very much for it."
"You are an admirable creature," exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, apparently
delighted with her unaffected simplicity; "and it will be a great source
of pleasure to me to be able to assist in creating your happiness. As
for gratitude, there is no necessity for that, at any rate, at present;
but when I have succeeded in insuring you all the blessings I wish you
to enjoy, you may be as grateful as you please."
"And you forgive me for my neglect?" asked Lilya, looking up to his face
imploringly, and then instantly casting her eyes to the ground.
"Forgive you!" cried her companion kindly, "you have committed no fault.
But if it be any satisfaction to you to receive my forgiveness, it is
readily granted; indeed, I feel so much pleasure in conferring it, that
I hope you will very soon either commit the same or a similar fault,
that I may be allowed the same enjoyment I now possess."
"No, I will not do so again, because that would be wrong," observed the
bashful maiden; "I should be unworthy of your kindness if, after you
had once been so good as to forgive me for a fault I had committed, I
committed the same fault again."
"In truth, you are a most admirable creature," exclaimed the young
merchant, with impressive emphasis. "But what can I do to make your
stay in the ship more endurable. Your being used to roam at will over
the wide fields and open valleys of your native land, must make this
voyage appear very tedious. I should like to vary its monotony for you
as much as possible. Have you a desire for any pleasure I can gratify?"