The Rev. Dr. Opimian. He had not before his eyes the astounding march of intellect, drumming and trumpeting science from city to city. But I am afraid that sort of obstreperous science only gives people the novel ‘use of their eyes to see the way of blindness.’
Truths which, from action’s paths retired,
My silent search in vain required,
1 Gaoler. For look you, sir: you know not which way you
shall go. Posthumus. Yes, indeed do I, fellow.
Gaoler. Your death has eyes in’s head, then: I have not seen
him so pictured... .
Posthumus. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to
direct them the way I am going, but such as wink, and will
not use them.
Gaoler. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should
have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness!
— Cymbeline: Act v. Scene 4.
2 Collins: Ode on the Manners.
I am not likely to find in the successive gabblings of a dozen lecturers of Babel.
Mr. Gryll. If you could so find them, they would be of little avail against the new irruption of Goths and Vandals, which must have been in the apprehension of Niebuhr. There are Vandals on northern thrones, anxious for nothing so much as to extinguish truth and liberty wherever they show themselves — Vandals in the bosom of society everywhere even amongst ourselves, in multitudes, with precisely the same aim, only more disguised by knaves, and less understood by dupes.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. And, you may add, Vandals dominating over society throughout half America, who deal with free speech and even the suspicion of free thought just as the Inquisition dealt with them, only substituting Lynch law and the gallows for a different mockery of justice, ending in fire and faggot.
Mr. Gryll. I confine my view to Europe. I dread northern monarchy, and southern anarchy; and rabble brutality amongst ourselves, smothered and repressed for the present, but always ready to break out into inextinguishable flame, like hidden fire under treacherous ashes.
1 —— incedis per ignes
suppositos cineri doloso.
— Hor. Carm, 11. i.
Mr. MacBorrowdale. In the meantime, we are all pretty comfortable; and sufficient for the day is the evil thereof; which in our case, so far as I can see, happens to be precisely none.
Miss Ilex. Lord Curryfin seems to be of that opinion, for he has flitted away from the discussion, and is going down a country dance with Miss Niphet..
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. He has chosen his time well. He takes care to be her last partner before supper, that he may hand her to the table. But do you observe how her tragic severity has passed away? She was always pleasant to look on, but it was often like contemplating ideal beauty in an animated statue — Now she is the image of perfect happiness, and irradiates all around her.
Miss Ilex. How can it be otherwise? The present and the future are all brightness to her. She cannot but reflect their radiance.
Now came the supper, which, as all present had dined early, was unaffectedly welcomed and enjoyed. Lord Curryfin looked carefully to the comfort of his idol, but was unremitting in his attentions to her fair neighbours. After supper, dancing was resumed, with an apparent resolution in the greater portion of the company not to go home till morning. Mr. Gryll, Mr. MacBorrowdale, the Reverend Doctor Opimian, and two or three elders of the party, not having had their usual allowance of wine after their early dinner, remained at the supper table over a bowl of punch, which had been provided in ample quantity, and, in the intervals of dancing, circulated, amongst other refreshments, round the sides of the ballroom, where it was gratefully accepted by the gentlemen, and not absolutely disregarded even by the young ladies. This may be conceded on occasion, without admitting Goldoni’s facetious position, that a woman, masked and silent, may be known to be English by her acceptance of punch.
1 Lord Runebif, in Venice, meets Rosaura, who is masked, before a
bottega di caffè. She makes him a curtsey in the English fashion.
Milord. Madama, molto compita, voleté caffè?
Rosaura. (Fa cenno di no. )
Milord. Cioccolata?
Rosaura. (Fa cenno di no. )
Milord. Voleté ponce?
Rosaura. (Fa cenno di si. )
Milord. Oh! è Inglese.
La Vedova Scaltra, A. iii. S. 10.
He does not offer her tea, which, as a more English drink
than either coffee or chocolate, might have entered into
rivalry with punch: especially if, as Goldoni represented in
another comedy, the English were in the habit of drinking
it, not with milk, but with arrack. Lord Arthur calls on his
friend Lord Bonfil in the middle of the day, and Lord Bonfil
offers him tea, which is placed on the table with sugar and
arrack. While they are drinking it, Lord Coubrech enters.
Bonfil. Favorite, bevete con noi.
Coubrech. Il tè non si rifiuta.
Artur. E bevanda salutifera.
Bonfil. Voleté rak?
Coubrech. SI, rak.
Bonfil. Ecco, vi servo.
— Pamela Fanciulla, A. i. S. 15.
CHAPTER XXXII
HOPES AND FEARS — COMPENSATIONS IN LIFE — ATHENIAN COMEDY — MADEIRA AND MUSIC — CONFIDENCES
(Greek Passage)
The Ghost of Darius to the Chorus, in
the Perso of Æschylus.
Farewell, old friends: and even if ills surround you,
Seize every joy the passing day can bring,
For wealth affords no pleasure to the dead.
Dorothy had begun to hope that Harry’s news might be true, but even Harry’s sanguineness began to give way: the pertinacity with which the young master remained at home threw a damp on their expectations. But having once fairly started, in the way of making love on the one side and responding to it on the other, they could not but continue as they had begun, and she permitted him to go on building castles in the air, in which the Christmas of the ensuing year was arrayed in the brightest apparel of fire and festival.
Harry, walking home one afternoon, met the Reverend Doctor Opimian, who was on his way to the Tower, where he purposed to dine and pass the night. Mr. Falconer’s absence from the ball had surprised him, especially as Lord Curryfin’s rivalry had ceased, and he could imagine no good cause for his not returning to the Grange. The doctor held out his hand to Harry, who returned the grasp most cordially. The doctor asked him, ‘how he and his six young friends were prospering in their siege of the hearts of the seven sisters.’
Harry Hedgerow. Why, sir, so far as the young ladies are concerned, we have no cause to complain. But we can’t make out the young gentleman. He used to sit and read all the morning, at the top of the Tower. Now he goes up the stairs, and after a little while he comes down again, and walks into the forest. Then he goes upstairs again, and down again, and out again. Something must be come to him, and the only thing we can think of is, that he is crossed in love. And he never gives me a letter or a message to the Grange. So, putting all that together, we haven’t a merry Christmas, you see, sir.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. I see, still harping on a merry Christmas. Let us hope that the next may make amends.
Harry Hedgerow. Have they a merry Christmas at the Grange, sir?
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. Very merry.
Harry Hedgerow. Then there’s nobody crossed in love there, sir.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. That is more than I can say. I cannot answer for others. I am not, and never was, if that is any comfort to you.
Harry Hedgerow. It is a comfort to me to see you, and hear the sound of your voice, sir. It always does me good.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. Why then, my young friend, you are most heartily welcome to see and hear me whenever you please, if you will come over to the Vicarage. And you will always find a piece of cold roast beef and a tankard of good
ale; and just now a shield of brawn. There is some comfort in them.
Harry Hedgerow. Ah! thank ye, sir. They are comfortable things in their way. But it isn’t for them I should come.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. I believe you, my young friend. But a man fights best when he has a good basis of old English fare to stand on, against all opposing forces, whether of body or mind. Come and see me. And whatever happens in this world, never let it spoil your dinner.
Harry Hedgerow. That’s father’s advice, sir. But it won’t always do. When he lost mother, that spoiled his dinner for many a day. He has never been the same man since, though he bears up as well as he can. But if I could take Miss Dorothy home to him, I’m sure that would all but make him young again. And if he had a little Harry dandle next Christmas, wouldn’t he give him the first spoonful out of the marrow-bone!
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. I doubt if that would be good food for little Harry, notwithstanding it was Hector’s way of feeding Astyanax. But we may postpone the discussion of his diet till he makes his appearance. In the meantime, live in hope; but live on beef and ale.
The doctor again shook him heartily by the hand, an Harry took his leave.
The doctor walked on, soliloquising as usual. ‘This young man’s father has lost a good wife, and has never been the same man since. If he had had a bad wife, he would have felt it as a happy release. This life has strange compensations. It helps to show the truth of Juvenal’s remark, that the gods alone know what is good for us.
1 Il. xxii. vv. 500, 501.
2 Juvenal: Sut. x. v. 346.
Now, here again is my friend at the Tower. If he had not, as I am sure he has, the love of Morgana, he would console himself with his Vestals. If he had not their sisterly affection, he would rejoice in the love of Morgana, but having both the love and the affection, he is between two counter-attractions, either of which would make him happy, and both together make him miserable. Who can say which is best for him? or for them? or for Morgana herself? I almost wish the light of her favour had shone on Lord Curryfin. That chance has pass from her; and she will not easily find such another. Perhaps she might have held him in her bonds, if she had been so disposed. But Miss Niphet. is a glorious girl, and there is a great charm in such perfect reciprocity. Jupiter himself, as I have before had occasion to remark, must have prearranged their consentaneity. The young lord went on some time, adhering, as he supposed, to his first pursuit, and falling unconsciously and inextricably into the second; and the young lady went on, devoting her whole heart and soul to him, not clearly perhaps knowing it herself, but certainly not suspecting that any one else could dive into the heart of her mystery. And now they both seem surprised that nobody seems surprised at their sudden appearance in the character affianced lovers. His is another example of strange compensation; for if Morgana had accepted him on his first offer, Miss Niphet would not have thought of him; but she found him a waif and stray, a flotsam on the waters of love, and landed him at her feet without art or stratagem. Artlessness and simplicity triumphed, where the deepest design would have failed. I do not know if she had any compensation to look for; but if she had, she has found it; for never was a man with more qualities for domestic happiness, and not Pedro of Portugal himself was more overwhelmingly in love. When I first knew him, I saw only the comic side of his character: he has a serious one too, and not the least agreeable part of it: but the comic still shows itself. I cannot well define whether his exuberant good-humour is contagious, and makes me laugh by anticipation as soon as I fall into his company, or whether it is impossible to think of him, gravely lecturing on Fish, as a member of the Pantopragmatic Society, without perceiving a ludicrous contrast between his pleasant social face and the unpleasant social impertinence of those would-be meddlers with everything. It is true, he has renounced that folly; but it is not so easy to dissociate him from the recollection. No matter: if I laugh, he laughs with me: if he laughs, I laugh with him. “Laugh when you can,” is a good maxim: between well-disposed sympathies a very little cause strikes out the fire of merriment —
As long liveth the merry man, they say,
As doth the sorry man, and longer by a day.
And a day so acquired is a day worth having. But then —
Another sayd sawe doth men advise,
That they be together both merry and wise.
1 These two quotations are from the oldest comedy in the
English language: Ralph Roister Doister, 1566. Republished
by the Shakespeare Society, 1847.
Very good doctrine, and fit to be kept in mind: but there is much good laughter without much wisdom, and yet with no harm in it.’
The doctor was approaching the Tower when he met Mr. Falconer, who had made one of his feverish exits from it, and was walking at double his usual speed. He turned back with the doctor, who having declined taking anything before dinner but a glass of wine and a biscuit, they went up together to the library.
They conversed only on literary subjects. The doctor, though Miss Gryll was uppermost in his mind, determined not to originate a word respecting her, and Mr. Falconer, though she was also his predominant idea, felt that it was only over a bottle of Madeira he could unbosom himself freely to the doctor.
The doctor asked, ‘What he had been reading of late? He said, ‘I have tried many things, but I have alway returned to Orlando Innamorato. There it is on the table an old edition of the original poem. The doctor said, I have seen an old edition, something like this, on the drawing-room table at the Grange.’ He was about to say something touching sympathy in taste, but he checked himself in time. The two younger sisters brought in lights. ‘I observe,’ said the doctor, ‘that your handmaids always move in pairs. My hot water for dressing is always brought by two inseparables, whom it seems profanation to call housemaids.’
Mr. Falconer. It is always so on my side of the house that not a breath of scandal may touch their reputation. If you were to live here from January to December, with a houseful of company, neither you nor I, nor any of my friends, would see one of them alone for a single minute.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. I approve the rule. I would stake my life on the conviction that these sisters are
Pure as the new-fall’n snow,
When never yet the sullying sun
Has seen its purity,
Nor the warm zephyr touched and tainted it.
1 Southey: Thalaba.
But as the world is constituted, the most perfect virtue needs to be guarded from suspicion. I cannot, however, associate your habits with a houseful of company.
Mr. Falconer. There must be sympathies enough in the world to make up society for all tastes: more difficult to find in some cases than in others; but still always within the possibility of being found. I contemplated, when I arranged this house, the frequent presence of a select party. The Aristophanic comedy and its adjuncts brought me into pleasant company elsewhere. I have postponed the purpose, not abandoned it.
Several thoughts passed through the doctor’s mind. He was almost tempted to speak them. ‘How beautiful was Miss Gryll in Circe; how charmingly she acted. What was a select party without women? And how could a bachelor invite them?’ But this would be touching a string which he had determined not to be the first to strike. So, apropos of the Aristophanic comedy, he took down Aristophanes, and said, ‘What a high idea of Athenian comedy is given by this single line, in which the poet opines “the bringing out of comedy to be the most difficult of all arts.”’ It would not seem to be a difficult art nowadays, seeing how much new comedy is nightly produced in London, and still more in Paris, which, whatever may be its literary value, amuses its audiences as much as Aristophanes amused the Athenians.
Mr. Falconer. There is this difference, that though both audiences may be equally amused, the Athenians felt they had something to be proud of in the poet, which our audiences can scarcely feel, as far as novelties are concerned. And as to the atrocious outrages on taste and feeling perpetrated unde
r the name of burlesques, I should be astonished if even those who laugh at them could look back on their amusement with any other feeling than that of being most heartily ashamed of the author, the theatre, and themselves.
When the dinner was over, and a bottle of claret had been placed by the side of the doctor, and a bottle of Madeira by the side of his host, who had not been sparing during dinner of his favourite beverage, which had been to him for some days like ale to the Captain and his friends in Beaumont and Fletcher, almost ‘his eating and his drinking solely,’ the doctor said, ‘I am glad to perceive that you keep up your practice of having a good dinner; though I am at the same time sorry to see that you have not done your old justice to it.’
1 (Greek passage) — Equités.
2 Ale is their eating and their drinking solely.
— Scornful Lady, Act iv. Scene 2.
Mr. Falconer. A great philosopher had seven friends, one of whom dined with him in succession on each day of the week. He directed, amongst his last dispositions, that during six months after his death the establishment of his house should be kept on the same footing, and that a dinner should be daily provided for himself and his single guest of the day, who was to be entreated to dine there in memory of him, with one of his executors (both philosophers) to represent him in doing the honours of the table alternately.
The Rev. Dr. Opimian. I am happy to see that the honours of your table are done by yourself, and not by an executor, administrator, or assign. The honours are done admirably, but the old justice on your side is wanting. I do not, however, clearly see what the feralis cæna of guest and executor has to do with the dinner of two living men.
Complete Works of Thomas Love Peacock Page 96