CHAPTER IV.
Cadurcis left the brig early in the morning alone, and strolledtowards the villa. He met Herbert half-way to Spezzia, who turned backwith him towards home. They sat down on a crag opposite the sea; therewas a light breeze, the fishing boats wore out, and the view was asanimated as the fresh air was cheering.
'There they go,' said Cadurcis, smiling, 'catching John Dory, as youand I try to catch John Bull. Now if these people could understandwhat two great men were watching them, how they would stare! But theydon't care a sprat for us, not they! They are not part of the worldthe three or four thousand civilised savages for whom we sweat ourbrains, and whose fetid breath perfumed with musk is fame. Pah!'
Herbert smiled. 'I have not cared much myself for this same world.'
'Why, no; you have done something, and shown your contempt for them.No one can deny that. I will some day, if I have an opportunity. I oweit them; I think I can show them a trick or two still.[A] I have got aDamascus blade in store for their thick hides. I will turn their flankyet.'
[Footnote A: I think I know a trick or two would turn Your flanks._Don Juan_.]
'And gain a victory where conquest brings no glory. You are worthbrighter laurels, Lord Cadurcis.'
'Now is not it the most wonderful thing in the world that you and Ihave met?' said Cadurcis. 'Now I look upon ourselves as somethinglike, eh! Fellows with some pith in them. By Jove, if we only joinedtogether, how we could lay it on! Crack, crack, crack; I think I seethem wincing under the thong, the pompous poltroons! If you only knewhow they behaved to me! By Jove, sir, they hooted me going to theHouse of Lords, and nearly pulled me off my horse. The ruffians wouldhave massacred me if they could; and then they all ran away from adrummer-boy and a couple of grenadiers, who were going the rounds tochange guard. Was not that good? Fine, eh? A brutish mob in a fit ofmorality about to immolate a gentleman, and then scampering off from asentry. I call that human nature!'
'As long as they leave us alone, and do not burn us alive, I amcontent,' said Herbert. 'I am callous to what they say.'
'So am I,' said Cadurcis. 'I made out a list the other day of allthe persons and things I have been compared to. It begins well, withAlcibiades, but it ends with the Swiss giantess or the Polish dwarf, Iforget which. Here is your book. You see it has been well thumbed. Infact, to tell the truth, it was my cribbing book, and I always keptit by me when I was writing at Athens, like a gradus, a _gradus adParnassum_, you know. But although I crib, I am candid, and you see Ifairly own it to you.'
'You are welcome to all I have ever written,' said Herbert. 'Mine werebut crude dreams. I wished to see man noble and happy; but if he willpersist in being vile and miserable, I must even be content. I canstruggle for him no more.'
'Well, you opened my mind,' said Cadurcis. 'I owe you everything;but I quite agree with you that nothing is worth an effort. As forphilosophy and freedom, and all that, they tell devilish well in astanza; but men have always been fools and slaves, and fools andslaves they always will be.'
'Nay,' said Herbert, 'I will not believe that. I will not give upa jot of my conviction of a great and glorious future for humandestinies; but its consummation will not be so rapid as I oncethought, and in the meantime I die.'
'Ah, death!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that is a botherer. What can youmake of death? There are those poor fishermen now; there will be awhite squall some day, and they will go down with those lateen sailsof theirs, and be food for the very prey they were going to catch; andif you continue living here, you may eat one of your neighbours inthe shape of a shoal of red mullets, when it is the season. The greatsecret, we cannot penetrate that with all our philosophy, my dearHerbert. "All that we know is, nothing can be known." Barren, barren,barren! And yet what a grand world it is! Look at this bay, these bluewaters, the mountains, and these chestnuts, devilish fine! The factis, truth is veiled, but, like the Shekinah over the tabernacle, theveil is of dazzling light!'
'Life is the great wonder,' said Herbert, 'into which all that isstrange and startling resolves itself. The mist of familiarityobscures from us the miracle of our being. Mankind are constantlystarting at events which they consider extraordinary. But aphilosopher acknowledges only one miracle, and that is life. Politicalrevolutions, changes of empire, wrecks of dynasties and the opinionsthat support them, these are the marvels of the vulgar, but these areonly transient modifications of life. The origin of existence is,therefore, the first object which a true philosopher proposes tohimself. Unable to discover it, he accepts certain results fromhis unbiassed observation of its obvious nature, and on them heestablishes certain principles to be our guides in all socialrelations, whether they take the shape of laws or customs.Nevertheless, until the principle of life be discovered, all theoriesand all systems of conduct founded on theory must be consideredprovisional.'
'And do you believe that there is a chance of its being discovered?'inquired Cadurcis.
'I cannot, from any reason in my own intelligence, find why it shouldnot,' said Herbert.
'You conceive it possible that a man may attain earthly immortality?'inquired Cadurcis.
'Undoubtedly.'
'By Jove,' said Cadurcis, 'if I only knew how, I would purchase animmense annuity directly.'
'When I said undoubtedly,' said Herbert, smiling, 'I meant only toexpress that I know no invincible reason to the contrary. I seenothing inconsistent with the existence of a Supreme Creator in theannihilation of death. It appears to me an achievement worthy of hisomnipotence. I believe in the possibility, but I believe in nothingmore. I anticipate the final result, but not by individual means. Itwill, of course, be produced by some vast and silent and continuousoperation of nature, gradually effecting some profound andcomprehensive alteration in her order, a change of climate, forinstance, the great enemy of life, so that the inhabitants of theearth may attain a patriarchal age. This renovated breed may in turnproduce a still more vigorous offspring, and so we may ascend thescale, from the threescore and ten of the Psalmist to the immortalityof which we speak. Indeed I, for my own part, believe the operationhas already commenced, although thousands of centuries may elapsebefore it is consummated; the threescore and ten of the Psalmist isalready obsolete; the whole world is talking of the general change ofits seasons and its atmosphere. If the origin of America were such asmany profound philosophers suppose, viz., a sudden emersion of a newcontinent from the waves, it is impossible to doubt that such an eventmust have had a very great influence on the climate of the world.Besides, why should we be surprised that the nature of man shouldchange? Does not everything change? Is not change the law of nature?My skin changes every year, my hair never belongs to me a month, thenail on my hand is only a passing possession. I doubt whether a man atfifty is the same material being that he is at five-and-twenty.'
'I wonder,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'if a creditor brought an actionagainst you at fifty for goods delivered at five-and-twenty, onecould set up the want of identity as a plea in bar. It would be aconsolation to an elderly gentleman.'
'I am afraid mankind are too hostile to philosophy,' said Herbert,smiling, 'to permit so desirable a consummation.'
'Should you consider a long life a blessing?' said Cadurcis. 'Wouldyou like, for instance, to live to the age of Methusalem?'
'Those whom the gods love die young,' said Herbert. 'For the lasttwenty years I have wished to die, and I have sought death. But myfeelings, I confess, on that head are at present very much modified.'
'Youth, glittering youth!' said Cadurcis in a musing tone; 'I rememberwhen the prospect of losing my youth frightened me out of my wits;I dreamt of nothing but grey hairs, a paunch, and the gout or thegravel. But I fancy every period of life has its pleasures, and as weadvance in life the exercise of power and the possession of wealthmust be great consolations to the majority; we bully our children andhoard our cash.'
'Two most noble occupations!' said Herbert; 'but I think in this worldthere is just as good a chance of being bullied by our children first,a
nd paying their debts afterwards.'
'Faith! you are right,' said Cadurcis, laughing, 'and lucky is he whohas neither creditors nor offspring, and who owes neither money noraffection, after all the most difficult to pay of the two.'
'It cannot be commanded, certainly,' said Herbert 'There is no usuryfor love.'
'And yet it is very expensive, too, sometimes, said Cadurcis,laughing. 'For my part, sympathy is a puzzler.'
'You should read Cabanis,' said Herbert, 'if indeed, you have not.I think I may find it here; I will lend it you. It has, from itssubject, many errors, but it is very suggestive.'
'Now, that is kind, for I have not a book here, and, after all, thereis nothing like reading. I wish I had read more, but it is not toolate. I envy you your learning, besides so many other things. However,I hope we shall not part in a hurry; we have met at last,' he said,extending his hand, 'and we were always friends.'
Herbert shook his hand very warmly. 'I can assure you, Lord Cadurcis,you have not a more sincere admirer of your genius. I am happy in yoursociety. For myself, I now aspire to be nothing better than an idlerin life, turning over a page, and sometimes noting down a fancy. Youhave, it appears, known my family long and intimately, and you were,doubtless, surprised at finding me with them. I have returned tomy hearth, and I am content. Once I sacrificed my happiness to myphilosophy, and now I have sacrificed my philosophy to my happiness.'
'Dear friend!' said Cadurcis, putting his arm affectionately inHerbert's as they walked along, 'for, indeed, you must allow me tostyle you so; all the happiness and all the sorrow of my life alikeflow from your roof!'
In the meantime Lady Annabel and Venetia came forth from the villa totheir morning meal in their amphitheatre of hills. Marmion was notthere to greet them as usual.
'Was not Plantagenet amusing last night?' said Venetia; 'and are notyou happy, dear mother, to see him once more?'
'Indeed I am now always happy,' said Lady Annabel.
'And George was telling me last night, in this portico, of all theirlife. He is more attached to Plantagenet than ever. He says it isimpossible for any one to have behaved with greater kindness, or tohave led, in every sense, a more calm and rational life. When he wasalone at Athens, he did nothing but write. George says that all hisformer works are nothing to what he has written now.'
'He is very engaging,' said Lady Annabel.
'I think he will be such a delightful companion for papa. I am surepapa must like him. I hope he will stay some time; for, after all,poor dear papa, he must require a little amusement besides oursociety. Instead of being with his books, he might be walking andtalking with Plantagenet. I think, dearest mother, we shall be happierthan ever!'
At this moment Herbert, with Cadurcis leaning on his arm, andapparently speaking with great earnestness, appeared in the distance.'There they are,' said Venetia; 'I knew they would be friends. Come,dearest mother, let us meet them.'
'You see, Lady Annabel,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'it is just as I said:Mr. George is not here; he is having tea and toast on board the brig.'
'I do not believe it,' said Venetia, smiling.
They seated themselves at the breakfast-table.
'You should have seen our Apennine breakfasts in the autumn, LordCadurcis,' said Herbert. 'Every fruit of nature seemed crowded beforeus. It was indeed a meal for a poet or a painter like Paul Veronese;our grapes, our figs, our peaches, our mountain strawberries, theymade a glowing picture. For my part, I have an original prejudiceagainst animal food which I have never quite overcome, and I believeit is only to please Lady Annabel that I have relapsed into the heresyof cutlets.'
'Do you think I have grown fatter, Lady Annabel?' said Lord Cadurcis,starting up; 'I brought myself down at Athens to bread and olives, butI have been committing terrible excesses lately, but only fish.'
'Ah! here is George!' said Lady Annabel.
And Captain Cadurcis appeared, followed by a couple of sailors,bearing a huge case.
'George,' said Venetia, 'I have been defending you againstPlantagenet; he said you would not come.'
'Never mind, George, it was only behind your back,' said LordCadurcis; 'and, under those legitimate circumstances, why even ourbest friends cannot expect us to spare them.'
'I have brought Venetia her toys,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'and she wasright to defend me, as I have been working for her.'
The top of the case was knocked off, and all the Turkish buffooneries,as Cadurcis called them, made their appearance: slippers, and shawls,and bottles of perfumes, and little hand mirrors, beautifullyembroidered; and fanciful daggers, and rosaries, and a thousand otherarticles, of which they had plundered the bazaars of Constantinople.
'And here is a Turkish volume of poetry, beautifully illuminated; andthat is for you,' said Cadurcis giving it to Herbert. 'Perhaps it is atranslation of one of our works. Who knows? We can always say it is.'
'This is the second present you have made me this morning. Here is avolume of my works,' said Herbert, producing the book that Cadurcishad before given him. 'I never expected that anything I wrote would beso honoured. This, too, is the work of which I am the least ashamedfor my wife admired it. There, Annabel, even though Lord Cadurcis ishere, I will present it to you; 'tis an old friend.'
Lady Annabel accepted the book very graciously, and, in spite of allthe temptations of her toys, Venetia could not refrain from peepingover her mother's shoulder at its contents. 'Mother,' she whispered,in a voice inaudible save to Lady Annabel, 'I may read this!'
Lady Annabel gave it her.
'And now we must send for Pauncefort, I think,' said Lady Annabel, 'tocollect and take care of our treasures.'
'Pauncefort,' said Lord Cadurcis, when that gentlewoman appeared, 'Ihave brought you a shawl, but I could not bring you a turban, becausethe Turkish ladies do not wear turbans; but if I had thought we shouldhave met so soon, I would have had one made on purpose for you.'
'La! my lord, you always are so polite!'