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REGENERATING THE WORLD

A SYMPOSIUM1

Thomas Love Peacock

Boswell. "So, sir, you laugh at schemes of political improvement."

Johnson. "Why, sir, most schemes of political improvement are very laughable things."

A DINNER is in progress at Crotchet Castle. The

host, who sits at the head of the table, is Mr. Crotchet the elder, a retired citizen extremely fond of argument and very liberal in his invitations. About him are gathered "a detachment from the advanced guard of the march of mind.'' Their names, we learn, are indicative of their mental dispositions, even when the connection is not immediately obvious. Mr. Mac Quedy, for example, is Mr. Mac Q. E. D., the son of a demonstration; Mr. Skionar derives from Greek words signifying “the dream of a shadow"; and Mr. Philpot, also of Greek ancestry, is a “lover of rivers." The characters of the group are about to be sketched by Lady Clarinda: to her descriptions it is only necessary to add that Mr. Mac Quedy is a Scotchman who has stirred the wrath of the Reverend Dr. Folliott by claiming for himself and his countrymen the title of "the modern Athenians." Lady Clarinda is being sought in marriage by Mr. Crotchet the younger, who has made himself rich by the "blow

1 From Crotchet Castle. For the epigraph the present editors are respon sible.

ing of bubbles," that is to say, by promoting invest-
ment schemes of a worthless kind. A second suitor
for her hand is Captain Fitzchrome (named in allu-
sion to his avocation as painter), a half-pay officer who
in point of fortune is no match for his rival. The
captain has no more depth of learning than is proper
to his profession and rank, though the Lady Clarinda
has mischievously recommended him to Mr. Mac
Quedy as interested in political economy, to Mr.
Skionar as curious regarding the question of subjective
reality, and to the Reverend Dr. Folliott as an en-
thusiastic lover of Greek poetry. The "rigmarole"
referred to in the first sentence is a spirited dispute
on what may be done for a man by education.

I

CHARACTERS

Lady Clarinda. [To the captain.] I declare the creature has been listening to all this rigmarole, instead of attending to me. Do you ever expect forgiveness? But now that they are all talking together, and you cannot make out a word they say, nor they hear a word that we say, I will describe the company to you. First, there is the old gentleman on my left. hand, at the head of the table, who is now leaning the other way to talk to my brother. He is a good-tempered, half-informed person, very unreasonably fond of reasoning, and of reasoning people; people that talk nonsense logically: he is fond of disputation himself, when there are only one or two, but seldom does more than listen in a large company of illuminés.1 He made a great fortune in the city, and has the comfort of a good conscience. He is very hospitable, and is generous in dinners; though nothing would induce him to give

1 Intellectuals.

He has finished his education with

sixpence to the poor, because he holds that all misfortune is from imprudence, that none but the rich ought to marry, and that all ought to thrive by honest industry, as he did. He is ambitious of founding a family, and of allying himself with nobility; and is thus as willing as other grown children to throw away thousands for a gewgaw, though he would not part with a penny for charity. Next to him is my brother, whom you know as well as I do. credit, and as he never ventures to oppose me in anything, I have no doubt he is very sensible. He has good manners, is a model of dress, and is reckoned ornamental in all societies. Next to him is Miss Crotchet, my sister-in-law that is to be. You see she is rather pretty, and very genteel. She is tolerably accomplished, has her table always covered with new novels, thinks Mr. Mac Quedy an oracle, and is extremely desirous to be called "my lady." Next to her is Mr. Firedamp, a very absurd person, who thinks that water is the evil principle. Next to him is Mr. Eavesdrop, a man who, by dint of a certain something like smartness, has got into good society. He is a sort of bookseller's tool, and coins all his acquaintance in reminiscences and sketches of character. I am very shy of him, for fear he should print me.

Captain Fitzchrome. If he print you in your own likeness, which is that of an angel, you need not fear him. If he print you in any other, I will cut his throat. But proceed

He has passed half his life in
The first thing he did on his

Lady Clarinda. Next to him is Mr. Henbane, the toxicologist, I think he calls himself. studying poisons and antidotes. arrival here, was to kill the cat; and while Miss Crotchet was crying over her, he brought her to life again. I am more shy of him than the other.

Captain Fitzchrome. They are two very dangerous fellows, and I shall take care to keep them both at a respectful dis

tance. Let us hope that Eavesdrop will sketch off Henbane, and that Henbane will poison him for his trouble.

Lady Clarinda. Well, next to him sits Mr. Mac Quedy, the Modern Athenian, who lays down the law about everything, and therefore may be taken to understand everything. He turns all the affairs of this world into questions of buying and selling. He is the Spirit of the Frozen Ocean to everything like romance and sentiment. He condenses their volume of steam into a drop of cold water in a moment. He has satisfied me that I am a commodity in the market, and that I ought to set myself at a high price. So you see he who would have me must bid for me.

Captain Fitzchrome. I shall discuss that point with Mr. Mac Quedy.

Not a word for your life. Our flirta-
Let it remain so.

Lady Clarinda. tion is our own secret.

Captain Fitzchrome.

the most ardent

Flirtation, Clarinda! Is that all that

- Lady Clarinda. Now, don't be rhapsodical here. Next to Mr. Mac Quedy is Mr. Skionar, a sort of poetical philosopher, a curious compound of the intense and the mystical. He abominates all the ideas of Mr. Mac Quedy, and settles everything by sentiment and intuition.

Captain Fitzchrome.

Then, I say, he is the wiser man. Lady Clarinda. They are two oddities; but a little of them is amusing, and I like to hear them dispute. So you see I am in training for a philosopher myself.

Captain Fitzchrome. Any philosophy, for heaven's sake, but the pound-shilling-and-pence philosophy of Mr. Mac Quedy.

Lady Clarinda. Why, they say that even Mr. Skionar, though he is a great dreamer, always dreams with his eyes open, or with one eye at any rate, which is an eye to his gain: but I believe that in this respect the poor man has got an ill

name by keeping bad company. He has two dear friends, Mr. Wilful Wontsee, and Mr. Rumblesack Shantsee, poets of some note, who used to see visions of Utopia, and pure republics beyond the Western deep: but finding that these El Dorados brought them no revenue, they turned their vision-seeing faculty into the more profitable channel of espying all sorts of virtues in the high and the mighty, who were able and willing to pay for the discovery.1

Captain Fitzchrome.

I do not fancy these virtue-spyers.

Lady Clarinda. Next to Mr. Skionar, sits Mr. Chainmail, a good-looking young gentleman, as you see, with very antiquated tastes. He is fond of old poetry, and is something of a poet himself. He is deep in monkish literature, and holds that the best state of society was that of the twelfth century, when nothing was going forward but fighting, feasting, and praying, which he says are the three great purposes for which man was made. He laments bitterly over the inventions of gunpowder, steam, and gas, which he says have ruined the world. He lives within two or three miles, and has a large hall, adorned with rusty pikes, shields, helmets, swords, and tattered banners, and furnished with yew-tree chairs, and two long, old, worm-eaten oak tables, where he dines with all his household, after the fashion of his favorite age. He wants us all to dine with him, and I believe we shall go.

Captain Fitzchrome. That will be something new at any

rate.

Lady Clarinda. Next to him is Mr. Toogood, the cooperationist, who will have neither fighting nor praying; but wants to parcel out the world into squares like a chess-board, with a community on each, raising everything for one another, with a great steam-engine to serve them in common for tailor and hosier, kitchen and cook.

1 In the characters of Mr. Skionar, Mr. Wilful Wontsee, and Mr. Rumblesack Shantsee, Peacock glances satirically at Coleridge and his friends William Wordsworth and Robert Southey.

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