Project Gutenberg's Lady Eureka, v. 2 (of 3), by Robert Folkestone Williams This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Lady Eureka, v. 2 (of 3) or, The Mystery: A Prophecy of the Future Author: Robert Folkestone Williams Release Date: April 8, 2013 [EBook #42492] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY EUREKA, V. 2 (OF 3) *** Produced by eagkw, Robert Cicconetti and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) Cover L A D Y E U R E K A ; OR, THE MYSTERY: A PROPHECY OF THE FUTURE. BY THE AUTHOR OF “MEPHISTOPHELES IN ENGLAND.” IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMANS, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1840. CONTENTS I. A CONVERSATION UPON THE PAST, THE PRESENT, AND THE FUTURE. II. AUSTRALIAN CIVILISATION. III. POSTHUMOUS AND HIS MUSEUM. IV. A CONVERSAZIONE. V. THE PHILANTHROPIST IN TROUBLE. VI. CHINA, ITS LAWS, CUSTOMS, AND PEOPLE. VII. A CHINESE POET. VIII. THE MONSOON. IX. GAME LAWS IN INDIA. X. ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE DANGER OF GOOD INTENTIONS. XI. ATHENIA. E U RE K A; A PROPHECY OF THE FUTURE. CHAPTER I. A CONVERSATION UPON THE PAST, THE PRESENT, AND THE FUTURE. “Now, doctor, you know my secret, and the whole of it,” said Zabra, at the conclusion of a long and interesting narrative he had communicated to Dr. Tourniquet, upon one of his professional visits. “Let not a word pass from your lips concerning what I have told you, for it would do me irreparable mischief. Be in your behaviour to me exactly as you have been. The slightest alteration would create suspicion, and that I am most anxious to avoid. May I rely upon you?” “Rely upon me!” cried the surgeon, while his good-natured countenance was glowing with benevolence. “If you ever catch me saying a word, I’ll allow any body to make a preparation of me before I’m dead. I’d sooner demonstrate upon my own skeleton, don’t you see, than betray your secret. By all that’s good, you’re an extraordinary creature—a more extraordinary creature than ever I met with in the whole course of my practice. I always thought there was something strange about you, don’t you see—a mystery I could not exactly understand—but now every thing appears as simple as the first rudiments of medicine.” “You gratify me exceedingly by this assurance,” observed the youth, “and I am delighted by your ready acquiescence with my wishes. How can I best express my gratitude?” “Tush, tush—don’t talk about that,” replied the other kindly. “Knowing what I do of you, I would do any thing in the [1] [2] world to serve you, don’t you see. Consider me from this time as your father, your brother, or your friend, and whenever my advice or assistance can be useful, apply to me, and I will do all in my power to forward your interests.” “You overpower me with your goodness,” said his young companion, returning the cordial pressure of the hand he had received. “Can I ever repay——” “Tush, tush, never mind repaying,” hastily rejoined the doctor. “I am well repaid by the pleasure it gives me to assist in your noble intentions, don’t you see. But if I may be allowed to give you a little advice, I should strongly recommend you not to be so careless of your life as you have been. You are not formed for fighting, don’t you see. You are not strong enough; but notwithstanding that, to my certain knowledge you paid off many of the piratical rascals pretty handsomely, and showed them to what profit you could apply the lessons they had given you. When I think of you finishing some of the scoundrels so dexterously as you did, I am filled with wonder. However, it is not right. You stand no chance in the midst of a set of strong ferocious men intent upon destroying all who oppose them. Your escape is a miracle; but you should remember that you cannot be spared.” “Ah, doctor!” replied his patient, with a languid smile, “what made you join in the conflict? Consider if you had been killed, what would have become of the wounded.” “True, true,” responded Tourniquet; “I never gave that a thought. But I had no time to think. I saw every one preparing to fight, and I knew we should all be massacred if we didn’t succeed. Although it was a sort of trade to which I was quite unused, the examples I saw before me made me valiant, and when I got fairly into the fray, I found myself obliged to cut away as hard as I could, don’t you see. Fortyfolios, too, didn’t do amiss. It’s wonderful how the prospect of being cut to pieces, if one don’t fight, makes a fellow fight. The professor went at it as if he was at one of his old arguments; and I must say this for him, he convinced his opponents then much more perfectly than he does in his verbal disputes.” “He is not hurt, I hope?” inquired Zabra earnestly. “No, but he had a narrow escape,” replied the doctor. “A ball grazed his ear, and a cutlass has scratched his ribs. I should have been sorry if either had taken the effect intended; for although he is somewhat dogmatical and intemperate in his manner of arguing, he possesses no ordinary share of learning, don’t you see.” “How are the rest of the wounded getting on?” asked his patient. “Famously,” said the surgeon cheerfully; “I think they are all doing well. I may add, as well as it is possible for them to do. Two or three of them have been severely used; on one I shall be obliged to perform an operation. Climberkin’s wounds are beginning to heal; Ardent has returned to his duty. Many have received but trifling hurts, and Hearty, Boggle, and Master Porphyry have escaped without a scratch. This is rather surprising, considering that the old man Hearty—Captain Hearty we must call him now, I suppose—fine old fellow! hacked his way through the pirates with a cool, steady, determined courage that nothing could withstand; and as for Oriel Porphyry, he fought like a hero. I never saw such a change in any man, don’t you see. He looked as if he’d been born a conqueror, and for the first time in his life had ventured into his right element. There was such a fire in his eyes, and such a grandeur in his appearance. It was extraordinary. His very looks seemed to kill; none could resist him.” “Is he not a noble creature?” said Zabra, his eyes again glowing with all their accustomed animation. “Indeed he is,” replied Dr. Tourniquet, with emphasis: “I don’t wonder at your enthusiasm, don’t you see. I shall begin to look upon him with a similar admiration myself. I never could have supposed that the mere appearance of daring valour was so grand and imposing; but there is something of the cause of this in his tall manly figure, and handsome countenance, don’t you see.” “Hush! there is his footstep,” exclaimed the youth earnestly, as he arranged with his unwounded arm the bed-clothes closely around him. “This place is too dark for him to see very accurately, which is what I require. There! be feeling my pulse when he enters.” “How is he now, doctor,” inquired Oriel Porphyry, advancing towards the hammock near which the surgeon stood, seemingly intent upon his professional duties. “His pulse is getting more firm,” said Dr. Tourniquet, assuming an air of great seriousness, “and his wound is suppurating healthily. He cannot be doing better. But you must apply to the patient for further information, as I am obliged to go my rounds, don’t you see.” So saying, the doctor departed. “Are you better, Zabra?” affectionately asked Master Porphyry, seating himself by the hammock of his wounded friend. “Much better, Oriel,” replied the youth, as he held out his hand to clasp that of his patron. The merchant’s son felt that the small hand within his own was dry and hot, and that the flesh had lost much of the roundness by which it had previously been distinguished. “Your skin feels feverish,” remarked his companion. “But not so much so, I think, as it was yesterday; and your eyes look more brilliant. I shall be delighted when you recover, not only because I miss the rich melody of your voice, and the stirring eloquence of your conversation, but because I know the confinement and inaction consequent upon this indisposition can scarcely be endurable to such a nature as yours. But when you do recover, which I hope will be speedily, I will take care you shall not again run into such risks. Who could have supposed that you were planning such an admirable scheme! I had not the slightest idea of such a thing. Far from it, I thought, and I blame myself exceedingly for having entertained a suspicion to your prejudice, that you had some sinister intention in your behaviour to the pirates. It is only an act of justice on my part to acknowledge that I have thought unworthily of you, without a cause; but I am too well aware that such an avowal forms an inadequate reparation, you must therefore allow me to express my regrets for the injury I have done you, in a manner more in accordance with my own sense of right. I am indebted to you not only for life and liberty, but for all that render them in my case more than usually endurable; for this I can never be [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] sufficiently grateful: and when my father comes to know, as know he soon shall, how much you assisted in rescuing his ship from the pirates, and his son from their weapons, I am quite sure that he will rather seek to increase than diminish the measure by which I would show the extent of the obligation you have rendered. But, besides this, I have a natural affection for you, which has been created by a knowledge of your amiable disposition and noble character; and I should wish you always to be with me, that I might as much as possible profit by the example of your good qualities; therefore you must submit to the necessity of sharing my fortune, and of becoming in every respect the equal of myself.” “This cannot be, Oriel,” said the other mildly. “Allow me still the same opportunities I have enjoyed of watching over your safety; and if, through my care and attention you are enabled to return unharmed to Eureka, and your sentiments in my favour remain the same, and she shows no disinclination to their indulgence, I will offer no further opposition.” “This is very strange of you,” remarked Oriel Porphyry. “Very strange: I cannot account for it, except I imagine that there is a sort of pride in your nature that cannot accommodate itself to any thing in the shape of favours from another.” “It is not that,” replied the youth languidly. “Indeed, it is not that. Your kindness has made upon me so deep an impression, and your friendship has become so intimately commingled with all my sympathies, that now I should find it a difficult matter to exist without them. But there are causes which I cannot explain, that prevent my accepting your generous proposals, independently of which there is nothing in what I have done that deserves such a return. Remember that my duty here is to endeavour to preserve you from every danger by which you may be threatened. I have accepted an office, and I am bound to fulfil its duties. In the part I played to effect your escape out of the power of those wretches, I only performed what I had engaged myself to do; and although my efforts to deceive your captors were repugnant to my feelings, I continued the deception because I saw that there was no way of effecting your liberation, but by practising deceit. Again, I assure you, that Eureka will amply reward me (if a reward be necessary) for any service I may be so fortunate as to be able to render you.” “But why am not I to be allowed to acknowledge the obligation according to my own sense of your merit?” asked his patron. “Because it is Eureka’s chief pleasure,” replied Zabra, with a faltering voice, “to reward after her own fashion those whom she employs to serve him to whom she is devoted; and surely you would not wish to deprive her of a gratification to the enjoyment of which she puts forth, as you acknowledge, so good a title.” “Well, well, I must reserve my gratitude for her then, I suppose,” said Oriel Porphyry. “But, of course, you will remain with me as you have hitherto done.” “Till there shall be no longer any occasion for my stay,” responded the other. “While you love Eureka, there will always appear to me to be a necessity for my remaining with you; but when your love for her disappears, there will be no longer occasion for my presence.” “Love her I always shall, for I always must; so if your stay with me depends upon the duration of my affection for her, we are not likely to separate in this life,” observed the young merchant. “I would I were certain of it,” murmured his companion. “Of nothing ought you to be more assured,” replied Oriel. “Were I entirely to forget the dazzling beauty of her features, there is an earnestness of purpose in her character which will make itself remembered at all times. The nobility of her sentiments I honoured, by endeavouring to become worthy of her greatness, and the confidence with which I was treated excited in me a desire to act in such a manner as should give her no cause to withdraw it. In her person there appeared to me the avatar of all things noble, fond, and beautiful, and I did it homage with so earnest a devotion that my respect soon became an idolatry. I had no enjoyment except in her presence; I could find no excellence from which she was absent. I honoured her above all honour. I regarded her as the best as well as the dearest of human beings. I was eloquent in her praise, and devout in her worship; and thus from day to day passed the joyous time, teeming with happiness, and prodigal of honours, till there seemed in the eyes of each to be no wealth and no distinction worthy to be desired, which the other did not possess. Truly was Eureka all the world to me. An empire was in her love, and all honourable things were in her gift.” Zabra had listened attentively, but nothing save a brighter glow in his lustrous eyes expressed the interest he took in the conversation. He did not attempt to interrupt the speaker, and when the last sentence was concluded he made no reply. “Can you add nothing in her praise, Zabra?” asked Oriel Porphyry, after a pause of a few minutes. “She requires no praise, Oriel, certainly none from me,” replied the youth. “Your applause is no doubt gratifying to her—for the heart that truly loves cannot exist but in the estimation of the lover. But there is an eulogy beyond mere praise, for which the devoted are ever desirous—the strong and earnest love, whose voice is action, and whose language is sympathy.” “And that does she possess,” rejoined his companion earnestly. “My sympathies are with her at all times, and at every place, and there is no act that I perform in which I do not consider the interpretation I would have it bear in her affections. I am afraid, Zabra, this encounter with the pirates has stirred up again all those ambitious notions I have fostered with the design of achieving a renown worthy of her greatness. Certainly my first efforts in traffic, among such mean scoundrels as Boor and his brethren, did not give me so exalted an opinion of my father’s profession as he and others possess. But any opportunity like the one which has thus accidentally fallen in my way will throw my blood into a ferment, and make my spirit yearn after a fair field in which to develope its energies, as they now exist. Yes, I feel as if I could only live in a life of enterprise. Inaction seems to chain me down into a slavish bondage; but when the weapon is in my grasp, and the motive within my soul, an atmosphere of freedom breathes around me, and I rise above the herd into something nearer the superiority to which I aspire.” “From what I saw of you in our late affray, I cannot help acknowledging your capability for a leader,” said the youth. [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] “You looked as if you were born to conquer. Your bearing was such as would induce thousands to follow in your footsteps—and your weapon flashed annihilation in your path.” “Pooh! it was a paltry enemy,” replied Oriel disdainfully, “and they were easily crushed; but let me be at the head of armies; let my battle-field be a kingdom, and my enemy a tyrant, and then I will show of what spirit I am made.” “That cannot be, Oriel,” added the other. “You must be satisfied with what you are; and as that condition is sufficiently honourable in the eyes of Eureka, you ought not to indulge in more ambitious aspirations. The risk you run in this life of enterprise should also be considered. Remember that you would hourly be in danger of immediate death, and if that were to happen where would be your ambition, and where would be Eureka’s happiness? No! it is a subject of congratulation that there are no armies for you to lead, and no tyrants for you to conquer.” “There I think you are mistaken,” cried his companion eagerly. “If I do not misinterpret the signs of the times, there is a spirit stirring in Columbia which will soon make itself evident in appearances that will not a little alarm its weak and despotic ruler. There is a cloud over the face of the whole country, and it will not be long before it break out into a mighty storm. Then let them look to themselves. It will come with a rush that must sweep away every obstacle before it. The whole of our complicated machinery of misgovernment will be broken up into fragments so small, that no future tyrant shall be able to patch it together again—and then will come the day of reckoning for the people. The task- masters will themselves be brought to task, and have to con the lessons they have set others. I only wish to live to see that day. I only wish to put myself forward in the movement—and lead the way that shall give freedom to my fellow- citizens. I am confident of the result. No power on earth can resist a mass of men struggling to break the bonds by which they have been fettered, when the impetus by which they are set in motion is properly directed; and for their chief I know, I feel I have all the necessary qualifications. Then I should be in my proper place. Then would the energies which now render my nature restless and dissatisfied have ample scope for their developement—and then, Zabra, my friend and brother, you should behold me performing such actions as shall more worthily excite your admiration, than the inglorious one of destroying a few wretched pirates.” “You almost convince me of the desirableness of seeing your visions of glory realised,” remarked Zabra, with increased animation. “I did not imagine it would be possible; but when I listen to you, I find myself wishing you to play the noble part for which you are so well fitted: but then the thought of the dangers to which you will be exposed fills me with dread. I know that in you Eureka has concentrated all her hopes of happiness; and when I reflect upon the perils of the sort of life you are desirous of leading, I fear that it will end in no good to either her or you. But we will talk of this again at a future time. In what state have you found the ship and her cargo?” “The ship is as much changed as it is possible for any vessel to be,” replied the merchant’s son. “I scarcely knew the Albatross again. Externally she has not suffered, but her interior accommodations have been completely altered. She has been pierced for thirty guns, all of which are ready for immediate use—a powder magazine has been formed out of one of the cabins, which is abundantly stored with ammunition—weapons of every description are piled up in immense chests—and provisions for a long voyage have been carefully provided. The cargo has not been touched. It is evident to me, that that scoundrel Compass, or Death, or whatever his name was, imagined that I would join him in his nefarious scheme to entrap my father’s vessels; and as he knew he could not find so good a market for his plunder by any other plan, he fancied that I could be induced to assist him in its disposal. Propositions of this nature he made to me; and although every time he spoke on the subject I felt an inclination to hack him into shreds, seeing the uselessness of any attempt at resistance, I concealed my indignation as well as I could, till you communicated to me your plan for our deliverance. I saw that it could not fail of success, if ordinary vigilance was used; and my hatred of the miscreants by whom I was detained led me to play my part in the deception, which was attended with all the result we anticipated. Your wound is the only drawback to the delight I feel at our escape.” “Oh, think not of that!” exclaimed the youth warmly: “it will soon be healed.” “I hope so,” responded Oriel. “As for the captain of the gang, I am only sorry that I had not an opportunity of acknowledging to him my obligations. But I think I have spoiled his career of piracy, that is one subject for congratulation. His retreat is destroyed—he has no vessel—and one half of his men are as well provided for as if the hangman had done his duty. But he was a bold villain. If what he has said of himself be true, he was fitted for better things; and from what I remarked in him, I conclude his narrative was true, at least a considerable portion of it. It appeared to me as if he only affected the vulgarity of his associates; for there were times when his conversation rose into something much superior to his ordinary language. It is evident that his intention was to put to sea almost immediately, and commence a new career of plunder and violence—happily we have been enabled to disappoint him; and I intend, at the first port we touch at, to add to our crew a sufficient number of able-bodied seamen, as will not only work the ship effectively during her voyage, but will defend her with resolution in case she should be attacked. Although I have not more inclination for a mercantile life than when I first came on board this vessel, I will not, in any way, unless it be unavoidable, diverge from the path my father wishes me to pursue, until I return, and then I shall expect to be allowed to follow my own inclinations, and choose my own road to distinction.” “It must be so, I suppose,” remarked Zabra. “Any opposition on my part would be fruitless—nay, if it were not for the dangers which you must encounter in a life of active warfare, I should be among the first to approve of your ambitious desires—I should love to see you the creator of your own glory—I should delight in the honours you would achieve—I should rejoice in your renown—but I must think of her whom I serve, who, although she would equally admire your greatness, could not avoid thinking of the perils of the path by which only it can be acquired, and must live in a state of constant anxiety while you were pursuing your dangerous career. You do not think sufficiently of her feelings. Why can you not be satisfied with inheriting the fame and wealth of your admirable father, and the happiness which must surely be your own as long as you prove yourself anxious for its possession?” “Why does the sun shine?—why does the tide ebb and flow?” said Oriel hastily. “They follow the end for which they [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] were made, and the same absolute law compels me to make out the purposes for which I was created. There is nothing so unreasonable as expecting one human being to become like another whose nature is entirely opposite to his. I have known inconsiderate persons say to one whose disposition is restless and dissatisfied, and whose inclinations are violent and ungovernable, ‘Look at such a one—he is content with his condition, and goes on his own quiet way, creating no desire that cannot easily be indulged; why cannot you be like him?’—as easily might the mountain torrent be made like the stream of the valley. One flows on its own level course, meeting with no obstruction, and the other, at every portion of its path, is forced to dash itself against the unrelenting rocks that oppose its progress. And how unjust is the manner in which each individual is regarded! one is praised for continuing its unvarying tranquillity—and the other is censured for the unceasing turmoil in which it exists. This is preposterous. No more have such characters made their own dispositions than the stream made the level land through which it flows, or the torrent created the rocks over which it leaps. Dam up the gentle rivulet with huge masses of stone, and see how quickly it will become as much troubled as its unjustly abused associate of the mountain; and take the rocks from the path of the torrent, and the quietude with which it will pursue its course will rival the tranquillity of its over-lauded brother of the valley. If there is any praise due at all it is to him who struggles on against all impediments, and shows that his spirit is not to be put down by the obstacles that retard his progress. Complain of his being restless and dissatisfied—how can he be any thing else, when his soul is kept in a constant fret by the worry of continual opposition? Say that his inclinations are violent and ungovernable—can it ever be otherwise, when they are daily accumulating in force, because they are allowed no opportunity for indulgence? Nothing can be more unjust to a man thus situated than to tell him to endeavour to be like another, whose situation is as opposite to his as are the poles to one another; and nothing can be more unwise than to complain of this man, because his disposition does not resemble that of another, whose way of life, and habits of thinking, and hopes and passions, are as different to his as any two sets of things can possibly be made. As for me, I am what I am—neither better nor worse. Let those who think me worse than I am keep to themselves their evil thoughts, that the force of ill opinion does not make me become what they unjustly imagine me to be; but let those who think me better than I am proclaim to me their flattering testimonials, that, knowing what excellences they fancy I possess, I may use every exertion to deem myself worthy of their good opinion, and at last succeed in obtaining the very qualities for which I was undeservedly honoured by their too indulgent regard.” “Ah, Oriel!” replied his young companion affectionately, “you know it would be difficult for any one who knows you well to imagine a quality of good you have not made your own.” “If I listen to you, I must be content to remain what I am,” said Oriel Porphyry, as he rose to take his leave. “And as such a state of things does not satisfy me, to prevent myself being spoiled for any better purpose, I must, for the present, leave you—of course with my best wishes for your speedy recovery.” “Thank you, Oriel, thank you!” exclaimed Zabra warmly, returning the affectionate pressure of the hand he at that moment received, and following, with his eyes overflowing with his friendly feelings, the retreating form of his kind and generous patron. CHAP. II. AUSTRALIAN CIVILISATION. Time had passed. The vessel had gone gallantly on her voyage, and was now quietly riding at anchor in the port of Sydney, the magnificent metropolis of the great empire of Australia. Oriel Porphyry had landed to transact business with an individual of some note in that part of the world. Posthumous was an extensive manufacturer, who had amassed an immense fortune by a mechanical discovery he had purchased, by means of which one machine was made to do the work of ten; and the funds at his disposal he employed in forming a museum, which he intended leaving, at his death, for the benefit of his country. His love of fame was his ruling passion; and to acquire it he seemed inclined to make any sacrifice. He accumulated every thing which he considered rare or curious for his museum; but, as he was no judge of the value of the collection he was forming, he often purchased things perfectly worthless, merely because they were recommended to him as objects that might be regarded with the greatest interest by posterity. To all who visited him, his pride was to exhibit his collection; and, although none were more ignorant of its real nature than himself, none could expatiate so much at length upon its merits. He was a walking catalogue—a talking index—a living table of contents; and he seemed as if he knew of no pleasure that did not allow him to display his museum and gossip about every specimen it contained. Oriel and Zabra were walking together to the residence of the person thus described, when the former, doubtful as to whether he was pursuing the right direction, observing a man leaning against a post near a crossing at a short distance, went up to him for the purpose of making inquiries as to the exact locality of the place of which he was in search. The man was a street sweeper. His broom was beside him; and he was so intent upon a book he appeared to be studying, that Oriel noticed its title. It was “Geometry for Beggars.” “Pray can you direct me to Botany Square?” inquired the young merchant. “Botany Square is an ellipsis,” replied the matter-of-fact sweeper; “but if the transverse, conjugate, and abscissa are [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] known, it is easy to find the ordinate. To proceed to it from this point requires a right line to where the next street appears at a right angle with it, whence, going along any part of its superficies, you will approach where the sides of three streets form an isosceles triangle; take the one side nearest to you in its whole extent, which having found, describe the area of a trapezium, whose diagonal is equal to twice its perpendiculars; and from the centre continue a right line till you approach a trapezoid whose sides are parallel; and from this, diverging in such a manner as to construct a hyperbola, if straight lines be drawn from the centre through the extremities of its conjugate axis, these will lead direct to the ellipsis you are desirous of finding.” “Can you direct me to Botany Square?” again asked Oriel Porphyry, puzzled to think whether the man was mad or did not understand his question. “Botany Square is an ellipsis, I tell you again,” said the geometrician rather sharply; “and Euclid himself could not have described to you a more accurate method of finding it than that you have just heard from me. Work the problem properly, and the result must be what you require. All the parts are equal to the whole; the greater includes the less; and of several equal parts all are alike: and these propositions are not more true than is the answer I have given to your query; therefore allow me to hope that you will, in consideration of the accuracy of my analysis, find the perpendicular of your pocket, subtract from its base any circle whose circumference is a known quantity, and place it within the superficies of my hand.” “He’s mad!” exclaimed Oriel, walking on. “He’s minus!” cried the beggar, and returned to his geometry. The two pedestrians continued on their way, wondering not a little at meeting with the strange character with whom they had just parted, when, upon entering the next street, they observed a confused mass of people running to and fro, shouting and making a most discordant uproar. “Can you tell me the cause of this disturbance?” inquired Oriel Porphyry, addressing a respectable looking mechanic who was hurrying past him. “The cause?” replied the stranger, immediately stopping in his career. “The cause is always the phenomenon which precedes the effect. Philosophers have disputed about the most appropriate definition of the term; but in any system of transcendental ideas there must always be an antecedency and a subsequency; and although they have been considered synchronous in their existence, in my opinion the effect is to the cause what the shadow is to the light—the shadow is not in the light, but is produced by the operation of the light upon an object; so the effect is not in the cause, but is produced by the action of the cause upon an agent. Some metaphysicians conceive that the relation of cause and effect should be considered as a synthetical judgment à priori—a postulate of pure reason. In my opinion, this idea is open to many objections; but I will avoid all argument on that point for the present, and merely go into an analysis of the nature of causation. There are three indispensable conditions to any philosophical theory of causation. In the first place, there are two objects—the agent and the patient. Secondly, there are three changes, which are—that of the agent, reason of the effect; that of the patient, effect of the action; that which is produced by the patient on the agent, and the effect of re-action. And, thirdly, there are four distinct moments, which are—that which leads to the action, that which commences with it, that of the re-action, and that which immediately follows the re-action. And——” “And pray, sir, what has all this to do with the disturbance about which I inquired?” said the young merchant, as much puzzled with the mechanic as he was by the beggar. “You asked for the cause, and I am explaining to you all the phenomena which a cause may produce,” responded the other. “But I regret I cannot stop to describe to you my original ideas on the subject. If you are anxious to apply your mind to their investigation, you will find them in the Philosophical Chimney-sweep’s Penny Magazine; and if I can be of service to you in any other way, you can always command me on the shortest notice, and on the most reasonable terms.” So saying, he placed a card in Oriel’s hand, and was very quickly out of sight. The card was of a pink colour, was glazed and embossed; and on it was elegantly engraved, “Leibnitz Kant Chummy, Chimney-sweep and Nightman to the Royal Family, in all its branches.” The two friends found quite as much wonder as amusement in what they had heard. “I had been told that these Australians were the most enlightened people on the earth,” remarked Oriel; “but I certainly never expected to be mystified after this fashion by two individuals belonging to the very lowest ranks, upon merely asking a simple question.” “Perhaps they are exceptions to the mass,” replied Zabra; “and every one else we meet we shall doubtless find as common-place as we require. Try this old fish-woman: it will be extraordinary, indeed, if you meet with either geometry or metaphysics in her.” Oriel approached a female whose sex was scarcely distinguishable, as she squatted by a basket of fish, in a man’s old great coat and hat. She observed a stranger advancing towards her; and, believing him to be a customer, she held up one of her fish so as to put all its good qualities into the best situation for minute inspection. “Fine and fresh—worthy to make a dinner for a prince!” she exclaimed. “My good woman, can you tell me the attraction which brings all these people together?” asked Oriel Porphyry. In a moment the old hag put down her fish, and, with the seriousness of a Socrates, replied, “There are three kinds of attraction; which are, the mathematical, the mathematico-physical, and the physical attraction: of which of these do you require a definition?” “Confound the people, they’re all alike!” exclaimed the young merchant; but the old dame, without noticing the exclamation, continued:— “Suppose A to be a glass of any comfortable liquor with which you may feel inclined to treat me, and B my mouth, which is at all times very desirous of a coalition with the same. When A moves towards B, it is evident that B has the [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] power directly or indirectly of drawing or attracting A; and when you notice this, and measure the law of the motion, and discover that A moves as if attracted towards B by some simple law, you will easily be enabled to ascertain what will take place if the motion continue. This is mathematical attraction. When it becomes evident that A not only moves towards B, but that B is an agent in the motion created, as, to satisfy the thirst or inclination of B, A is attracted towards it, A always moving where there is thirst or inclination, but never where neither exist, then this is called mathematico- physical attraction. And when, by a power existing in B, A is drawn towards it without any other exciting cause; thus, if nothing else in the world existed but A and B in a state of rest, and A move towards B by some influence which is as much a part of its nature as its thirst or inclination, then would be created what is called physical attraction. And now, for a trifle, I will give you the most convincing demonstration of the modus operandi of all these phenomena.” “Perdition seize your A and B, I say!” cried Oriel, as he hastily left the old woman to her philosophy. “An exemplification of repulsion!” muttered she, as she again commenced endeavouring to dispose of her fish. Oriel and his companion had entered a street of shops, in which they had no sooner made their appearance than they were surrounded by a crowd of tradespeople, bawling in their ears the excellence and cheapness of their commodities, and endeavouring to pull or entice them into their warehouses, the exteriors of which were covered with immense placards, proclaiming the ruin of the sellers, and the advantages which in consequence would accrue to the fortunate buyers. “Full fifty per cent. under cost price!” cried one. “A hundred per cent. below the cost, be assured!” shouted another. “I must be ruined in a week, sir!” proclaimed a third, as if rejoicing at the near approach of his destruction. “I am ruined!” screamed a fourth, in a tone of emphatic exultation. “My family must starve!” exclaimed a fifth, without the slightest expression of regret. “My family are starving!” confessed a sixth, as if it was a subject of the greatest congratulation. “I have seven children, sir!” whispered a little man, apparently as the most enticing recommendation of his goods. “I have a wife and ten!” bawled a companion, in a voice of triumph that seemed to silence all competition. “This way, sir!” “No; this way!” “The best goods!” “The very best!” “Mine are the cheapest!” “Mine are much cheaper!” And thus they went on shouting at and pulling the two young men about, till they were obliged to seek refuge in one of the shops; but immediately they entered the threshold, the whole body of eager applicants for custom left the strangers to the care of their more fortunate fellow-tradesman. “Really you shopkeepers seem inclined to tear your customers to pieces,” observed Oriel Porphyry with considerable indignation. “Merely the effect of competition, sir,” coolly replied the chapman, spreading out his wares for inspection. “Then it is a competition that must be exceedingly disagreeable to the purchaser,” said the young merchant. “Can’t be helped, sir,” added the man in the same careless tone. “When the supply exceeds the demand, the value of this overproduction must greatly diminish; and every attempt will be made to produce, at any loss, an increased consumption. How many pairs of these gloves would you like to have, sir? You shall have them at a small advance beyond the cost of their carriage from the place in which they were manufactured.” “But I have no cash about me,” acknowledged Oriel, thinking it would be sufficient to avoid a purchase that was not necessary. “Not of the slightest consequence, sir. I will gladly give you credit to any amount,” said the obliging tradesman. “Indeed! why I am a perfect stranger in the country,” observed his unwilling customer with much surprise. “No matter, sir,” added the other; “public credit must be supported; all business transactions are done upon its responsibility. Ready money is destructive of all the true interests of trade; for, as capital in a state overcrowded in population can never be created in a supply sufficient for the wants of the community, the surest way of preventing those dangerous revolutions which so often affect the monied interests of a great commercial nation is to trade entirely with fictitious capital. This is credit, sir; and we use every means within our power to create it to an extent sufficient to supply all our wants, and to support it in all its sufficiency when it is established. The manufacturer supplies the wholesale dealer; the wholesale dealer provides the retail tradesman; and the retail tradesman carries on his business with his customers upon the sure foundation of credit. Not a coin is seen in the hands of either party from one year’s end to the other; and a man’s wealth is known not by the mere exchangeable property he possesses, but by the extent of the credit he is allowed. Political economy is a wonderful science, sir; and the ancients were entirely ignorant of its true principles. Shall I put you up a few dozen of these stockings? the price, I assure you, does not pay for the raw material.” “Well, well; as you seem desirous of ruining yourself, I do not see that I ought to stand in your way; so you may let me have a dozen pairs of the stockings and of the gloves,” said Master Porphyry. “Thank you, sir,” replied the tradesman. “But as for ruin, sir, is it not done for the public good? Think what a man having a wife and ten children to support must feel when he knows that he has reduced them and himself to absolute starvation for the advantage of the community—for the greatest happiness of the greatest number, sir. Beautiful feeling, sir; exquisite consolation; a perfect patriotism! He knows that he becomes a martyr for his country. Think of that, sir! He is conscious of being made a victim for the general advantage. Think of that, sir! And while his skin and bones hang together, he feels the sweet solace that he is allowed to make himself a sacrifice for the wants of those who never heard [36] [37] [38] [39] [40] [41] [42] of his name. Think of that, sir! Any other article, sir?” “Not at present. It is wonderful to me how, in such a state of things, men can be brought to enter into the pursuits of trade,” observed his customer. “All the effect of competition, sir,” answered the man quietly. “Fine thing competition. We should none of us enjoy the satisfaction of being ruined, if it was not for competition; and the beautiful principle of it is, sir, that it makes a man consider that he is greatest honoured who is soonest ruined; therefore we all run a race—and a very anxious race it is, I assure you. We undersell each other—we dispose of our goods at a certain loss—we even give them away—and happy is the man who is ruined before his rivals. Admirable thing, competition! Where shall I send them, sir?” “Send them to Master Porphyry, on board the ship Albatross, now in the harbour, and I will call and pay you before I depart,” replied the young merchant. “Don’t hurry yourself, sir,” said the tradesman. “Don’t hurry yourself, I entreat. Nay, I should be just as well pleased were you to forget it altogether, for then I shall be a step nearer to the honour I so much covet—the distinction of being ruined before any other person in the same line of business in my immediate neighbourhood. I am grateful to you for your favours. Any thing you may require, sir—the most extensive order you can give me I shall be happy to supply on the same advantageous terms. Any thing you like to accept, sir, is at your disposal. I implore you to have the generosity to assist in my ruin.” Zabra and his companion, at last, with great difficulty, got out of the shop, and proceeded, unmolested, on their way, till they came to an opening in the street, where several men seemed to be preaching from little elevations, each to his own separate congregation, yet frequently alluding to their coadjutors, in such terms as clearly proved that they were rivals in the trade they had adopted. “Come, my children, to me, and I will expound to you the law by which alone you can be saved from everlasting punishment,” exclaimed a fat faced little old man to his audience. “Fly from the things of this world—pay your teachers liberally—care not for eating or drinking, or amusing yourselves with idle pleasures, and you shall live in eternal happiness!” “Fire and brimstone! Flame and torment! Prepare for these, my beloved brethren!” shouted a lank fellow with a most hypocritical physiognomy. “Ye who are the elect shall enjoy the good things, but scorching and burning shall be the everlasting portion of those who are not of our communion.” “Heed not the voices of ungodly men, to whom the evangelical grace has not descended,” cried a stern-visaged preacher. “Our way is a way of mercy, a way of charity, and a way of peace. But rejoice, oh my hearers! for the time is not afar off when we will smite the unbelievers from shoulder to hip, till their name be utterly removed from the land.” “Hear a voice which none can understand, but which is sent to enlighten the universe,” screamed one, whose brilliant eyes and wild expression of countenance seemed marked by the influence of insanity—“Hu—ugh—hullabaloo— scrikey-smash—drido—snolk—hi ha botherum—pickwickicksicceriggidiggy——” “I tell thee, friend, thy way is the way of perdition, humph,” exclaimed another, with a nasal twang, and a clean sleek appearance. “Verily it is the way of the bottomless pit. There is no virtue save under a beaver with a broad brim, humph! and the spirit can only be found in vestments of a formal cut, and of a drab colour, humph!” “Leave those heretics, my children, who can only hurry you on the road of iniquity, and enter the bosom of the true church,” shouted a brawny fellow in the dress of a mendicant. “Here is holy water, and here are relics that have the power of saving your souls from purgatory.” “Abominations—abominations—the abominations of the scarlet one of Babylon!” cried one opposite to him with looks of horror and indignation. “Leave them, and I will sprinkle water upon you, which will render you a sheep of our fold.” “Sprinkling is of no avail!” shrieked a melancholy fanatic. “Come and be dipped—come and be dipped into the waters of everlasting righteousness.” “Oh, Fader Aprahams!—Fader Aprahams!” said a dark visaged old man with a long beard, as he smote his breast, and turned up his eyes to heaven. “How long shall these obstacles remain in the way of thy chosen!” “Down with the Jew!” bawled the rest in hideous chorus—“Down with the unrelenting Jew! Our religion is one of universal love. Cut the Jew into a thousand pieces, and cast him to the dogs!” “Let us leave these miserable brawlers,” exclaimed Oriel, hurrying his companion from the spot. “Truly has my father said that the only religion is philanthropy, and the only worship of God consists in doing good to man. Nothing annoys me so much as observing a parcel of noisy fellows sowing dissension around them on the hypocritical pretence of teaching the surest means of saving sinners from perdition. Disputes about religion, entered into by persons professing different forms of faith, may be compared to the wranglings of a party of men concerning the excellence of different roads in a country of the geography of which all are ignorant.” “You should not judge of the whole class of teachers by such examples as we have just passed,” remarked Zabra. “That the general influence of the clerical profession is beneficial has been denied by some narrow-minded men, who, because there have been a few instances of unworthiness obtaining distinction in the church, and of vicious propensities disgracing a professed teacher of virtue, denounce the institution that created them as unlikely to produce any real good to the community. But who condemns a fruitful tree, because, while it bears a profitable crop, a handful of blighted fruit may occasionally be found on its branches? The clergy are but a section of the vast mass of the social fabric; and it is as absurd for any one with a knowledge of human nature, to expect that every individual member of its body should be led into the profession by no other motive than the love of virtue, as to imagine that every soldier should be brave and join the ranks only from a desire for glory—or, that every lawyer should be honest, and embrace the law exclusively to advocate the principles of justice. It is, certainly, a natural expectation, that all who affect to show others the road to [43] [44] [45] [46] [47] [48] heaven should travel that way themselves, and to satisfy this expectation is the grand object of the institution of priesthood; but it is as rare that the allurements of the world can be prevented producing vicious effects upon those who are obliged to mingle in them, as it is difficult to guard against the encroachments of a disease by those who are forced to inhale an infectious atmosphere. The wonder should be, not that any fall, but that so many escape. When we come to consider the immense contributions to the general stock of intelligence afforded by the clergy, which embrace every branch of human learning and scientific acquirement—the active benevolence of at least a large majority—their unceasing endeavours to instil into the hearts of the people the refreshing influence of a pure system of morals—and the effect of their individual respectability in commanding attention to the great object for which they labour—illiberal indeed must he be who denies the utility of an establishment productive of so much good. To despise a sporting parson, a political priest, or a fashionable divine, is both right and nat...