CHAPTER XXX. EXPLANATIONS—A LEAVE-TAKING—LOVE—CONFESSIONS, BUT NO PENITENCE.

A night of sweet repose left me refreshed, and with a pulse that denoted less agitation than on the preceding day. I awoke early, had a bath, and sent for Captain Poke to take his coffee with me, before we parted; for it had been settled, the previous evening, that he was to proceed towards Stunin’tun forthwith. My old messmate, colleague, co-adventurer, and fellow-traveller, was not slow in obeying the summons. I confess his presence was a comfort to me, for I did not like looking at objects that had been so inexplicably replaced before my eyes, unsupported by the countenance of one who had gone through so many grave scenes in my company.

“This has been a very extraordinary voyage of ours, Captain Poke,” I remarked, after the worthy sealer had swallowed sixteen eggs, an omelet, seven cotelettes, and divers accessories. “Do you think of publishing your private journal?”

“Why, in my opinion, Sir John, the less that either of us says of the v’y’ge the better.”

“And why so? We have had the discoveries of Columbus, Cook, Vancouver, and Hudson—why not those of Captain Poke?”

“To own the truth, we sealers do not like to speak of our cruising grounds—and, as for these monikins, after all, what are they good for? A thousand of them wouldn’t make a quart of ‘ile, and by all accounts their fur is worth next to nothin’.”

“Do you account their philosophy for nothing? and their jurisprudence?—you, who were so near losing your head, and who did actually lose your tail, by the axe of the executioner?”

Noah placed a hand behind him, fumbling about the seat of reason, with evident uneasiness. Satisfied that no harm had been done, he very coolly placed half a muffin in what he called his “provision hatchway.”

“You will give me this pretty model of our good old ‘Walrus,’ captain?”

“Take it, o’ Heaven’s sake, Sir John, and good luck to you with it. You, who give me a full-grown schooner, will be but poorly paid with a toy.”

“It’s as like the dear old craft as one pea is like another!”

“I dare say it may be. I never knew a model that hadn’t suthin’ of the original in it.”

“Well, my good shipmate, we must part. You know I am to go and see the lady who is soon to be my wife, and the diligence will be ready to take you to Havre, before I return.”

“God bless you! Sir John—God bless you!” Noah blew his nose till it rung like a French horn. I thought his little coals of eyes were glittering, too, more than common, most probably with moisture. “You’re a droll navigator, and make no more of the ice than a colt makes of a rail. But though the man at the wheel is not always awake the heart seldom sleeps.”

“When the ‘Debby and Dolly’ is fairly in the water, you will do me the pleasure of letting me know it.”

“Count on me, Sir John. Before we part, I have, however, a small favor to ask.”

“Name it.”

Here Noah drew out of his pocket a sort of basso relievo carved in pine. It represented Neptune armed with a harpoon instead of a trident; the captain always contending that the god of the seas should never carry the latter, but that, in its place, he should be armed either with the weapon he had given him, or with a boat-hook. On the right of Neptune was an English gentleman holding out a bag of guineas. On the other was a female who, I was told, represented the goddess of liberty, while it was secretly a rather flattering likeness of Miss Poke. The face of Neptune was supposed to have some similitude to that of her husband. The captain, with that modesty which is invariably the companion of merit in the arts, asked permission to have a copy of this design placed on the schooner’s stern. It would have been churlish to refuse such a compliment; and I now offered Noah my hand, as the time for parting had arrived. The sealer grasped me rather tightly, and seemed disposed to say more than adieu.

“You are going to see an angel, Sir John.”

“How!—Do you know anything of Miss Etherington?”

“I should be as blind as an old bumboat else. During our late v’y’ge, I saw her often.”

“This is strange!—But there is evidently something on your mind, my friend; speak freely.”

“Well, then, Sir John, talk of anything but of our v’y’ge, to the dear crittur. I do not think she is quite prepared yet to hear of all the wonders we saw.”

I promised to be prudent; and the captain, shaking me cordially by the hand, finally wished me farewell. There were some rude touches of feeling in his manner, which reacted on certain chords in my own system; and he had been gone several minutes before I recollected that it was time to go to the Hotel de Castile. Too impatient to wait for a carriage, I flew along the streets on foot, believing that my own fiery speed would outstrip the zigzag movement of a fiacre or a cabriolet tie flace.

Dr. Etherington met me at the door of his appartement, and led me to an inner room without speaking. Here he stood gazing, for some time, in my face, with paternal concern.

“She expects you, Jack, and believes that you rang the bell.”

“So much the better, dear sir. Let us not lose a moment; let me fly and throw myself at her feet, and implore her pardon.”

“For what, my good boy?”

“For believing that any social stake can equal that which a man feels in the nearest, dearest ties of earth!”

The excellent rector smiled, but he wished to curb my impatience.

“You have already every stake in society, Sir John Goldencalf,” he answered—assuming the air which human beings have, by a general convention, settled shall be dignified—“that any reasonable man can desire. The large fortune left by your late father, raises you, in this respect, to the height of the richest in the land; and now that you are a baronet, no one will dispute your claim to participate in the councils of the nation. It would perhaps be better, did your creation date a century or two nearer the commencement of the monarchy; but, in this age of innovations, we must take things as they are, and not as we might wish to have them.”

I rubbed my forehead, for the doctor had incidentally thrown out an embarrassing idea.

“On your principle, my dear sir, society would be obliged to begin with its great-grandfathers to qualify itself for its own government.”

“Pardon me, Jack, if I have said anything disagreeable—no doubt all will come right in heaven. Anna will be uneasy at our delay.”

This suggestion drove all recollection of the good rector’s social-stake system, which was exactly the converse of the social-stake system of my late ancestor, quite out of my head. Springing forward, I gave him reason to see that he would have no farther trouble in changing the subject. When we had passed an antechamber, he pointed to a door, and admonishing me to be prudent, withdrew.

My hand trembled as it touched the door-knob, but the lock yielded. Anna was standing in the middle of the room (she had heard my footsteps), an image of womanly loveliness, womanly faith, and womanly feeling. By a desperate effort, she was, however, mistress of her emotions. Though her pure soul seemed willing to fly to meet me, she obviously restrained the impulse, in order to spare my nerves.

“Dear Jack!”—and both her soft, white, pretty little hands met me, as I eagerly approached.

“Anna!—dearest Anna!”—I covered the rosy fingers with kisses.

“Let us be tranquil, Jack, and if possible, endeavor to be reasonable, too.”

“If I thought this could really cost one habitually discreet as you an effort, Anna?”

“One habitually discreet as I, is as likely to feel strongly on meeting an old friend, as another.”

“I think it would make me perfectly happy, could I see thee weep.”

As if waiting only for this hint, Anna burst into a flood of tears. I was frightened, for her sobs became hysterical and convulsed. Those precious sentiments which had been so long imprisoned in her gentle bosom, obtained the mastery, and I was well paid for my selfishness, by experiencing an alarm little less violent than her own outpouring of feeling.

Touching the incidents, emotions, and language of the next half hour, it is not my intention to be very communicative. Anna was ingenuous, unreserved, and, if I might judge by the rosy blushes that suffused her sweet face, and the manner in which she extricated herself from my protecting arms, I believe I must add, she deemed herself indiscreet in that she had been so unreserved and ingenuous.

“We can now converse more calmly, Jack,” the dear creature resumed, after she had erased the signs of emotion from her cheeks—“more calmly, if not more sensibly.”

“The wisdom of Solomon is not half so precious as the words I have just heard—and as for the music of spheres—”

“It is a melody that angels only enjoy.”

“And art not thou an angel?”

“No, Jack, only a poor, confiding girl; one instinct with the affections and weaknesses of her sex, and one whom it must be your part to sustain and direct. If we begin by calling each other by these superhuman epithets, we may awake from the delusion sooner than if we commence with believing ourselves to be no other than what we really are. I love you for your kind, excellent, and generous heart, Jack; and as for these poetical beings, they are rather proverbial, I believe, for having no hearts at all.”

As Anna mildly checked my exaggeration of language—after ten years of marriage I am unwilling to admit there was any exaggeration of idea—she placed her little velvet hand in mine again, smiling away all the severity of the reproof.

“Of one thing, I think you may rest perfectly assured, dear girl,” I resumed, after a moment’s reflection. “All my old opinions concerning expansion and contraction are radically changed. I have carried out the principle of the social-stake system in the extreme, and cannot say that I have been at all satisfied with its success. At this moment I am the proprietor of vested interests which are scattered over half the world. So far from finding that I love my kind any more for all these social stakes, I am compelled to see that the wish to protect one, is constantly driving me into acts of injustice against all the others. There is something wrong, depend on it, Anna, in the old dogmas of political economists!”

“I know little of these things, Sir John, but to one ignorant as myself, it would appear that the most certain security for the righteous exercise of power is to be found in just principles.”

“If available, beyond a question. They who contend that the debased and ignorant are unfit to express their opinions concerning the public weal, are obliged to own that they can only be restrained by force. Now, as knowledge is power, their first precaution is to keep them ignorant; and then they quote this very ignorance, with all its debasing consequences, as an argument against their participating in authority with themselves. I believe there can be no safe medium between a frank admission of the whole principle—”

“You should remember, dear Goldencalf, that this is a subject on which I know but little. It ought to be sufficient for us that we find things as they are; if change is actually necessary, we should endeavor to effect it with prudence and a proper regard to justice.”

Anna, while kindly leading me back from my speculations, looked both anxious and pained.

“True—true”—I hurriedly rejoined, for a world would not tempt me to prolong her suffering for a moment. “I am foolish and forgetful, to be talking thus at such a moment; but I have endured too much to be altogether unmindful of ancient theories. I thought it might be grateful to you, at least, to know, Anna, that I have ceased to look for happiness in my affections for all, and am only so much the better disposed to turn in search of it to one.”

“To love our neighbor as ourself, is the latest and highest of the divine commands,” the dear girl answered, looking a thousand times more lovely than ever, for my conclusion was very far from being displeasing to her. “I do not know that this object is to be attained by centring in our persons as many of the goods of life as possible; but I do think, Jack, that the heart which loves one truly, will be so much the better disposed to entertain kind feelings towards all others.”

I kissed the hand she had given me, and we now began to talk a little more like people of the world, concerning our movements. The interview lasted an hour longer, when the heaven. “You never yet were so unkind to one who was offensive; much less could you willingly have plotted this cruelty to one you regard!”

Anna could no longer control herself, but her cheeks were wetted with the usual signs of feeling in her sex. Then smiling in the midst of this little outbreaking of womanly sensibility, her countenance became playful and radiant.

“That letter ought not to be altogether proscribed, neither, Jack. Had it not been written, you would never have visited Leaphigh, nor Leaplow, nor have seen any of those wonderful spectacles which are here recorded.”

The dear creature laid her hand on a roll of manuscript which she had just returned to me, after its perusal. At the same time, her face flushed, as vivid and transient feelings are reflected from the features of the innocent and ingenuous, and she made a faint effort to laugh.

I passed a hand over my brow, for whenever this subject is alluded to between us, I invariably feel that there is a species of mistiness, in and about the region of thought. I was not displeased, however, for I knew that a heart which loved so truly would not willingly cause me pain, nor would one habitually so gentle and considerate, utter a syllable that she might have reason to think would seriously displease.

“Hadst thou been with me, love, that journey would always be remembered as one of the pleasantest events of my life, for, while it had its perils and its disagreeables, it had also its moments of extreme satisfaction.”

“You will never be an adept in political saltation, John!”

“Perhaps not—but here is a document that will render it less necessary than formerly.”

I threw her a packet which had been received that morning from town, by a special messenger, but of whose contents I had not yet spoken. Anna was too young a wife to open it without an approving look from my fond eye. On glancing over its contents, she perceived that I was raised to the House of Peers by the title of Viscount Householder. The purchase of three more boroughs, and the influence of my old friend Lord Pledge, had done it all.

The sweet girl looked pleased, for I believe it is in female nature to like to be a viscountess; but, throwing herself into my arms, she protested that her joy was at my elevation and not at her own.

“I owed you this effort, Anna, as some acknowledgment for your faith and disinterestedness in the affair of Lord M’Dee.”

“And yet, Jack, he had neither high cheek-bones, nor red hair; and his accent was such as might please a girl less capricious than myself!”

This was said playfully and coquettishly, but in a way to make me feel how near folly would have been to depriving me of a treasure, had the heart I so much prized been less ingenuous and pure. I drew the dear creature to my bosom, as if afraid my rival might yet rob me of her possession. Anna looked up, smiling through her tears; and, making an effort to be calm, she said, in a voice so smothered as to prove how delicate she felt the subject to be:—

“We will speak seldom of this journey, dear John, and try to think of the long and dark journey which is yet before us. We will speak of it, however, for there should be nothing totally concealed between us.”

I kissed her serene and humid eyes, and repeated what she had just said, syllable for syllable. Anna has not been unmindful of her words; for rarely, indeed, has she touched on the past, and then oftener in allusion to her own sorrows, than in reference to my impressions.

But, while the subject of my voyage to the monikin region is, in a measure, forbidden between me and my wife, there exists no such restraint as between me and other people. The reader may like to know, therefore, what effect this extraordinary adventure has left on my mind, after an interval of ten years.

There have been moments when the whole has appeared a dream; but, on looking back, and comparing it with other scenes in which I have been an actor, I cannot perceive that this is not quite as indelibly stamped on my memory as those. The facts themselves, moreover, are so very like what I see daily in the course of occurrence around me, that I have come to the conclusion, I did go to Leaphigh in the way related, and that I must have been brought back during the temporary insanity of a fever. I believe, therefore, that there are such countries as Leaphigh and Leaplow; and after much thought, I am of opinion that great justice has here been done to the monikin character in general.

The result of much meditation on what I witnessed, has been to produce sundry material changes in my former opinions, and to unsettle even many of the notions in which I may be said to have been born and bred. In order to consume as little of the reader’s time as possible, I shall set down a summary of my conclusions, and then take my leave of him, with many thanks for his politeness in reading what I have written. Before completing my task in this way, however, it will be well to add a word on the subject of one or two of my fellow-travellers.

I never could make up my mind relating to the fact whether we did or did not actually eat Brigadier Downright. The flesh was so savory, and it tasted so delicious after a week of philosophical meditation on nuts, and the recollection of its pleasures is so very vivid, that I am inclined to think nothing but a good material dinner could have left behind it impressions so lively, I have had many melancholy thoughts on this subject, especially in November; but observing that men are constantly devouring each other, in one shape or another, I endeavor to make the best of it, and to persuade myself that a slight difference in species may exonerate me from the imputation of cannibalism.

I often get letters from Captain Poke. He is not very explicit on the subject of our voyage, it is true; but, on the whole, I have decided that the little ship he constructed was built on the model of, and named after, our own Walrus instead of our own Walrus being built on the model of, and named after, the little ship constructed by Captain Poke. I keep the latter, therefore, to show my friends as a proof of what I tell them, knowing the importance of visible testimony with ordinary minds.

As for Bob and the mates, I never heard any more of them. The former most probably continued a “kickee” until years and experience enabled him to turn the tables on humanity, when, as is usually the case with Christians, he would be very likely to take up the business of a “kicker” with so much the greater zeal on account of his early sufferings.

To conclude, my own adventures and observations lead to the following inferences, viz.:

That every man loves liberty for his own sake and very few for the sake of other people.

That moral saltation is very necessary to political success at Leaplow, and quite probably in many other places.

That civilization is very arbitrary, meaning one thing in France, another thing at Leaphigh, and still a third in Dorsetshire.

That there is no sensible difference between motives in the polar region and motives anywhere else.

That truth is a comparative and local property, being much influenced by circumstances; particularly by climate and by different public opinions.

That there is no portion of human wisdom so select and faultless that it does not contain the seeds of its own refutation.

That of all the ’ocracies (aristocracy and democracy included) hypocrisy is the most flourishing.

That he who is in the clutches of the law may think himself lucky if he escape with the loss of his tail.

That liberty is a convertible term, which means exclusive privileges in one country, no privileges in another, and inclusive privileges in all.

That religion is a paradox, in which self-denial and humility are proposed as tenets, in direct contradiction to every man’s senses.

That phrenology and caudology are sister sciences, one being quite as demonstrable as the other, and more too.

That philosophy, sound principles and virtue, are really delightful; but, after all, that they are no more than so many slaves of the belly; a man usually preferring to eat his best friend to starving.

That a little wheel and a great wheel are as necessary to the motion of a commonweath, as to the motion of a stage-coach, and that what this gains in periphery that makes up in activity, on the rotatory principle.

That it is one thing to have a king, another to have a throne, and another to have neither.

That the reasoning which is drawn from particular abuses, is no reasoning for general uses.

That, in England, if we did not use blinkers, our cattle would break our necks; whereas, in Germany we travel at a good pace, allowing the horse the use of his eyes; and in Naples we fly, without even a bit!

That the converse of what has just been said of horses is true of men, in the three countries named.

That occultations of truth are just as certain as the aurora boreal is, and quite as easily accounted for.

That men who will not shrink from the danger and toil of penetrating the polar basin, will shrink from the trouble of doing their own thinking, and put themselves, like Captain Poke, under the convoy of a God-like.

That all our wisdom is insufficient to protect us from frauds, one outwitting us by gyrations and flapjacks, and another by adding new joints to the cauda.

That men are not very scrupulous touching the humility due to God, but are so tenacious of their own privileges in this particular, they will confide in plausible rogues rather than in plain-dealing honesty.

That they who rightly appreciate the foregoing facts, are People’s Friends, and become the salt of the earth—yea, even the Most Patriotic Patriots!

That it is fortunate “all will come right in heaven,” for it is certain too much goes wrong on earth.

That the social-stake system has one distinctive merit: that of causing the owners of vested rights to set their own interests in motion, while those of their fellow-citizens must follow, as a matter of course, though perhaps a little clouded by the dust raised by their leaders.

That he who has an Anna, has the best investment in humanity; and that if he has any repetition of his treasure, it is better still.

That money commonly purifies the spirit as wine quenches thirst; and therefore it is wise to commit all our concerns to the keeping of those who have most of it.

That others seldom regard us in the same light we regard ourselves; witness the manner in which Dr. Reasono converted me from a benefactor into the travelling tutor of Prince Bob.

That honors are sweet even to the most humble, as is shown by the satisfaction of Noah in being made a lord high admiral.

That there is no such stimulant of humanity, as a good moneyed stake in its advancement.

That though the mind may be set on a very improper and base object, it will not fail to seek a good motive for its justification, few men being so hardened in any grovelling passion, that they will not endeavor to deceive themselves, as well as their neighbors.

That academies promote good fellowship in knowledge, and good fellowship in knowledge promotes F. U. D. G. E.’s, and H. O. A. X.’s.

That a political rolling-pin, though a very good thing to level rights and privileges, is a very bad thing to level houses, temples, and other matters that might be named.

That the system of governing by proxy is more extended than is commonly supposed; in one country a king resorting to its use, and in another the people.

That there is no method by which a man can be made to covet a tail, so sure as by supplying all his neighbors, and excluding him by an especial edict.

That the perfection of consistency in a nation, is to dock itself at home, while its foreign agents furiously cultivate caudae abroad.

That names are far more useful than things, being more generally understood, less liable to objections, of greater circulation, besides occupying much less room.

That ambassadors turn the back of the throne outward, aristocrats draw a crimson curtain before it, and a king sits on it.

That nature has created inequalities in men and things, and, as human institutions are intended to prevent the strong from oppressing the weak, ergo, the laws should encourage natural inequalities as a legitimate consequence.

That, moreover, the laws of nature having made one man wise and another man foolish—this strong, and that weak, human laws should reverse it all, by making another man wise and one man foolish—that strong, and this weak. On this conclusion I obtained a peerage.

That God-likes are commonly Riddles, and Riddles, with many people, are, as a matter of course, God-likes. That the expediency of establishing the base of society on a principle of the most sordid character, one that is denounced by the revelations of God, and proved to be insufficient by the experience of man, may at least be questioned without properly subjecting the dissenter to the imputation of being a sheep-stealer.

That we seldom learn moderation under any political excitement, until forty thousand square miles of territory are blown from beneath our feet.

That it is not an infallible sign of great mental refinement to bespatter our fellow-creatures, while every nerve is writhing in honor of our pigs, our cats, our stocks, and our stones.

That select political wisdom, like select schools, propagates much questionable knowledge.

That the whole people is not infallible, neither is a part of the people infallible.

That love for the species is a godlike and pure sentiment; but the philanthropy which is dependent on buying land by the square mile, and selling it by the square foot, is stench in the nostrils of the just.

That one thoroughly imbued with republican simplicity invariably squeezes himself into a little wheel, in order to show how small he can become at need.

That habit is invincible, an Esquimaux preferring whale’s blubber to beefsteak, a native of the Gold Coast cherishing his tom-tom before a band of music, and certain travelled countrymen of our own saying, “Commend me to the English skies.”

That arranging a fact by reason is embarrassing, and admits of cavilling; while adapting a reason to a fact is a very natural, easy, every-day, and sometimes necessary, process.

That what men affirm for their own particular interests they will swear to in the end, although it should be a proposition as much beyond the necessity of an oath, as that “black is white.”

That national allegories exist everywhere, the only difference between them arising from gradations in the richness of imaginations.

And finally:—

That men have more of the habits, propensities, dispositions, cravings, antics, gratitude, flapjacks, and honesty of monikins, than is generally known.

THE END.

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