A THEORY OF PALPABLE SUBLIMITY—SOME PRACTICAL IDEAS, AND THE
COMMENCEMENT OF ADVENTURES.
The recollection of the intense feelings of that important period of my
life has, in some measure, disturbed the connection 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 deathbed 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 clew 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 a 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,
agreeable 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 prove 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 connection 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 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 manufactory of watches,
and bought all the horses for a voiturier on a large scale. I had
silkworms 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 VIRTU.
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 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 ray 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-Seamen, owned a coral and pearl
fishery of my own, and sent an agent with a proposition to King
Tamamamaah to create a monopoly of sandalwood 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 newborn 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 excellences 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 twelvemonth 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:
Dear—very dear, nay—dearest ANNA:
“I met your old neighbor—this morning on the boulevards, and during an
interview of an hour we did little else but talk of thee. Although it
has been my most ardent and most predominant wish to open my heart to
the whole species, yet, Anna, I fear I have loved thee alone! Absence,
so far from expanding, appears to contract my affections, too many of
which centre in thy sweet form and excellent virtues. The remedy I
proposed is insufficient, and I begin to think that matrimony alone can
leave me master of sufficient freedom of thought and action to turn the
attention I ought to the rest of the human race. Thou hast been with me
in idea in the four corners of the earth, by sea and by land, in
dangers and in safety, in all seasons, regions, and situations, and
there is no sufficient reason why those who are ever present in the
spirit should be materially separated. Thou hast only to say a word, to
whisper a hope, to breathe a wish, and I will throw myself a repentant
truant at thy feet and implore thy pity. When united, however, we will
not lose ourselves in the sordid and narrow paths of selfishness, but
come forth again in company to acquire a new and still more powerful
hold on this beautiful creation, of which, by this act, I acknowledge
thee to be the most divine portion.
“Dearest, dearest Anna, thine and the species’,
“Forever,
“JOHN GOLDENCALF. “TO MISS ETHERINGTON.”
If there was ever a happy fellow on earth it was myself when this
letter was written, sealed, and fairly despatched. 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 centred 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 certainly did not own the whole of Great Britain, I
felt that I had a profound respect for everything 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 an 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:
“Good—nay, Dear JOHN:
“Thy letter was put into my hands yesterday. This is the fifth answer I
have commenced, and you will therefore see that I do not write without
reflection. I know thy excellent heart, John, better than it is known
to thyself. It has either led thee to the discovery of a secret of the
last importance to thy fellow-creatures, or it has led thee cruelly
astray. An experiment so noble and so praiseworthy ought not to be
abandoned on account of a few momentary misgivings concerning the
result. Do not stay thy eagle flight at the instant thou art soaring so
near the sun! Should we both judge it for our mutual happiness, I can
become thy wife at a future day. We are still young, and there is no
urgency for an immediate union. In the mean time, I will endeavor to
prepare myself to be the companion of a philanthropist by practising on
thy theory, and, by expanding my own affections, render myself worthy
to be the wife of one who has so large a stake in society, and who
loves so many and so truly.
“Thine imitator and friend,
“Without change,
“ANNA ETHERINGTON.
“To Sir JOHN GOLDENCALF, Bart.
“P.S.—You may perceive that I am in a state of improvement, for I have
just refused the hand of Lord M’Dee, because I found I loved all his
neighbors quite as well as I loved the young peer himself.”
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
investment 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 ‘don-nez-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 Elysees.