CHAP. VII. A CHINESE POET.
Reading edition
In an elegant room, the floor of which was covered with clean white matting, while the furniture, consisting principally of a divan or sofa, mirrors, pictures, couches, Japan tables, and large porcelain vases, was of a superior description, cross-legged on the divan, eating sweetmeats from a small silver saucer, richly chased, which he held in his hand, sat a young man, of less than the ordinary stature, with a countenance that seemed possessed of a perpetual melancholy. He was dressed with the most studied effect. He wore a robe of dark rich silk, and over it a vest of delicate blue satin, beautifully figured. Upon his head, which was shaved, with the exception of a long lock of hair that hung from the crown over the shoulder, was a small black cap of fine felt, with the brim turned up, and the crown, of a conical shape, covered with a fringe of scarlet silk, having a peculiar button in front. Below wide trowsers were seen stockings of silk, remarkably thin, having their feet cased in small slippers of embroidered satin; and round his waist was a girdle, drawn very tight, to which was appended a small gold case, a purse, and a pouch of silk. Opposite to him sat Oriel Porphyry and Zabra, in their usual dresses, also eating sweetmeats from similar saucers.
“What an ineffable felicity I enjoy in being able to speak your language,” observed the young Chinese.
“I have no doubt you find it an advantage in your communication with foreigners,” replied the merchant’s son.
“An advantage!” exclaimed the other rapturously. “By the great Fo, ’tis the most superlative of enjoyments. I bless the gods that my mother was an Anglo-Indian, and that she conferred on me the exquisite gratifications arising from proficiency in the use of her language. My father passed a great portion of his life in India, and acquired a facility in its pronunciation which is rarely obtained by a Chinese; so that I was born with extraordinary advantages.”
“You were fortunate, certainly,” added Oriel.
“Fortunate! By the immaculate tail of Confucius, I was favoured beyond all experience,” cried his host.
There being nothing more to say on that subject, at least so the young merchant thought, he inquired—“Your father, I suppose, will be here shortly?”
“He is paying his devotions at the neighbouring temple. Long Chi enjoys a religious reputation, and he loves the society of holy men. But I was telling you of the indescribable happiness I possess in having acquired a proficiency in my mother tongue,” added Long Chi the younger. “I am blest with a poetic genius.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Zabra, with some surprise.
“Wonderful as it may appear, the fact is what I have stated,” replied the young poet, putting down the silver saucer on a small japanned table before him, and opening the pouch at his side, from which he took a bundle of papers. “I may say that my compositions have attracted an extraordinary degree of attention in the world of letters. They are considered phenomena in literature, I assure you. Do not imagine I wish to overrate their value. I should not think of such a thing for the thousandth part of a moment; and to prove this to you, allow me to enrapture you with some of my effusions.”
“Certainly,” said Oriel, expecting at least to be amused.
“The effort of a profound sublimity I am about to breathe into your enlightened ears, you will have the intellectual discrimination to observe, is a perfect specimen of the true Anglian pastoral,” remarked Long Chi. “It has been created by that etherial sense of delicious enjoyment which your ancient poets called love. She for whose immaculate glorification it was called into existence, is a combination of miraculous excellencies—an incarnation of inconceivable perfections; and therefore your superior sagacities must not deem it at all more than ordinary extraordinary, if the merits of this indestructible conception fill you with a ravishing amazement.”
“From what you have said I should expect something particularly clever,” observed Zabra, evidently considerably amused by the poet’s phraseology.
“Clever!” exclaimed the young Chinese, with emphatic fervour. “By the great Fo you will find it supernaturally perfect.” Then arranging a rumple in his vest, and taking a glance of satisfaction at the reflection of his person in a large mirror beside him, with a slow and careful enunciation of each word, and a peculiar wave of the hand to mark the measure, the melancholy poet read the following verses:—
“Have you seen my Fee Fo Fum, Tell me did she this way come? She it is of whom I speak Hath a pink on either cheek; In the middle of her face Is a flower of nameless grace, Which the name of nose hath known, And blooms the brightest when ’tis blown. And her eyes are garden plots Filled with young forget-me-nots, That by lovers’ eyes are found Flow’ring all the seasons round. Shepherds did she this way come? Have you seen my Fee Fo Fum? “If below her nose you look, There’s a little rosy nook; Two twin buds half open ask, Smiling, for some fondling task, While within, in each row, The lilies of the valley grow. Just beneath them both begins The blossom of the best of chins; Fair and round, and smooth as silk, And like a peach fresh bathed in milk. Shepherds, did she this way come? Have you seen my Fee Fo Fum? “Breast of mutton, breast of veal, All your merits now conceal; What can ye afford to taste Half so pleasant, half so chaste, As the dainty bits that lie Hid from epicurean eye? What to them compared are ye, Calipash and calipee? Go! the sweeter flesh I’ve known Wants no sauce to coax it down. Shepherds, did she this way come? Have you seen my Fee Fo Fum? “She of whom I’m in pursuit Hath to these a foot ‘to boot;’ Such a foot! ’tis like a rose, Budding out with five small toes. Calf’s foot, likened as a treat, To a jelly it would beat: She hath two—but my regard Makes each foot excel a yard— Go any lengths it might reveal, Save when she turns upon her heel. Shepherds, did she this way come? Have you seen my Fee Fo Fum?”
“It certainly is a superlative composition,” remarked Zabra, attempting to conceal a laugh.
“I can safely say I never heard any thing like it,” added Oriel in a similar tone.
“I entertained an incipient conviction that you would find it marvellously admirable,” replied the poet, elevating his head, and stroking his mustachios. “’Tis ineffably divine, is it not?”
“Beautiful!” exclaimed both, looking at each other with a smile of peculiar meaning.
“Beautiful!” echoed Long Chi, raising his voice and eyebrows. “By the invulnerable tail of Confucius, ’tis something for which a name cannot be found. But exquisitely perfect as it may be, here is a production that excels it in the very unapproachableness of its excellence.”
While the two friends listened with admirable patience, the young Chinese unfolded another paper, and read with the same gravity these lines:—
“When first we met ’twas in the spring, When dicky birds begin to sing, When nature dishes up her greens To make removes for rural scenes; And teaches, with unaltered brows, When trees take leaf, to make their boughs; Then first I met thee passing by, Then first I had thee—in my eye. “When next we met ’twas summer time, When trees, well loaded, seemed to prime; And other plants just taking root, Meaning no harm, began to shoot; When beans their hollow ‘shells’ would doff, And marrow fats were going off; Then first our hearts were growing warm, Then first I had thee—arm in arm. “’Twas autumn when we met again, When sunshine parched the peas and plain; When plums are blooming on the wall, And into flour would gladly fall; When apples are to fritters torn, And earth’s square feet feel many a corn: Then first did I forget my fears, Then first I had thee—box my ears. “I saw thee last when winter, nice In eating, loves to have his ice; When ‘cold without’ comes near and far, And all his sweetmeats frosted are, To ballot when the white balls roll Unask’d for, hastening to the poll: Then first I ‘broke the ice,’ and then Was I the happiest of men.”
“That exceeds the last certainly,” said Oriel Porphyry, amused with the perfect gravity with which the poet read his verses.
“It appears to me quite a new style of poetry,” remarked Zabra, with as much seriousness as he could assume.
“Unquestionably! it is novel in the novelest degree,” replied Long Chi, smiling with all the graciousness of gratified vanity. “I may with the most complete justice lay claim to be the origin in which originated its originality. I have studied sublimity. By the great Fo, I may say that; and I have found the sublime in every individual natural thing that is in nature; but in cookery and confectionary it predominates, as must be evident to the inquisitive investigation of any man of taste. It is the opinion of the most discriminative judges, that no writer of serious poetry can compete with me.”
“In that opinion every one must coincide,” observed Zabra.
“There can be no question on the subject,” added Oriel.
“Who shall say you are barbarians, when you exhibit such a superabundant knowledge of the beautiful?” exclaimed the Chinese, with all the energy he could assume. “I am immeasurably enraptured to notice such an admirable judgment; and, as an additional proof of the satisfaction I receive from your friendly attention, I will still, to a much more infinite extent, delight your auditory nerves with one of the most serious of my efforts in serious poetry. Mark the true sublime; mark it well, and see how splendidly it agrees with the magnificent subject. It is an ode to a sugarplum.”
The poet unfolded another paper; and the young merchant shrugged up his shoulders, as he heard its contents read with the same tone and manner as its predecessors.
“How shall I grasp a subject so immense? No power of human sense, Not all the vast Ideas within the Present and the Past— Not algebra’s most unknown quantity could give the sum Of greatness in a sugar plum! “What with its sweetness can compete? How much it beats the beet! Shall manna dare, Wanting in manners, with it to compare? And honey’s linked sweetness, long drawn out, is all a hum, ’Tis nothing to a sugar plum! “Who can deny the sense of truth It gives the tongue of youth? It hath the praise Of being always candied in its ways, And stops the carping critic’s mouth till he becometh dumb, Delighted with a sugar plum! “Comfit, come fit my mouth, and I In thy sweet praise will try My hand at feet, With anxious aim to make the metre meet, Till Arabic, or any other diff’rent sort of gum, Shall water for a sugar plum. “Muse, if thy musings can prevail, I’ll at it tooth and nail; I have no nerves Of taste for syrups, jellies, or preserves; Oh, let them go to pot, say I, as so much worthless scum, They cannot make a sugar plum. “Bull’s eyes may stick within the shop, And so may lollapop, Elecampane Unsucked within its bottles may remain; And barley sugar, brandy balls, or even balls of rum, I’d spurn to get a sugar plum. “Plums from the trees I do not find So plummy to my mind; Orleans or egg Unnoticed for my patronage may beg; And damsons may be da—; ah, I’m in a passion, I say mum, I’ll swear not for a sugar plum.”
“You excel yourself, sir,” said Oriel Porphyry, with something of sarcasm in the tone of his voice, arising, perhaps, from his becoming a little out of patience.
“By the unsophisticated tail of Confucius, you may say that,” replied the poet with the same seriousness he had from the first evinced. “Having, in so unutterable a manner, obtained the precedency of my promiscuous cotemporaries, I had no alternative but to enter into competition with myself. That I have to so wonderful an extent exceeded my own super-excellence, therefore, cannot be considered strange; but, as you are evidently gratified in a manner perfectly unparalleled by the unimaginable superiority of my poetic genius, I will show my consideration of your admirable sagacity by enrapturing you still more completely by a more transcendental attempt at the sublime;” and the young Chinese began unfolding another paper.
“Not now, I’m very much obliged to you,” said Oriel, rising as if to depart. “I have business of importance that requires my immediate attendance; and, having waited for Long Chi so long, I am afraid I cannot protract my visit.”
“Not to be ravished by the immortal praises of the adorable Fee Fo Fum?” exclaimed the melancholy poet in the utmost astonishment.
“I cannot allow myself that pleasure at present,” said the merchant’s son, courteously, yet looking as if he was impatient to be gone.
“I’ve written an indestructible epos in fifty cantos, descriptive of all her beauties, with a due regard of anatomy. I’ll read you the whole of it, if you will stay,” added the lover.
“I’m infinitely thankful; but my time is precious,” observed Oriel, making rapid strides to the door.
“I will enrapture you with a thousand hexameters declaratory of my incommunicable affections,” shouted the prolific versifier.
“Good morning to you, Long Chi,” exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, as he opened the door, evidently very desirous of making his escape. He was on the point of leaving the room, accompanied by Zabra, when he was stopped in his progress by the appearance of a stout elderly Chinese, wearing the appearance of profound gravity. No sooner had he entered, than the poet shuffled his papers hastily into his pouch, jumped off the divan, and approached the stranger with looks of veneration and awe.
“Father, here are the barbarians you expected,” said he. The ceremony of introduction was soon over; the two friends returned to their seats; and old Long Chi, seating himself cross-legged on the divan, commenced a conversation with his visitors, while his son remained standing beside him in respectful attention. He was dressed in a fashion somewhat similar to that of the younger Chinese; but the materials were not so gay, nor were they formed with so much neatness; and he wore boots of black satin instead of slippers, and a short cloak of fine cloth trimmed with fur.
“I have been sacrificing at the temple, which has detained me longer than I anticipated,” said Long Chi the elder. “But religion is the first concern of life. Nothing should stand in the way of religion. The Bonzes are the only teachers of truth; and the worship of Fo is the only way that leads to virtue.”
Neither Zabra nor his patron attempted to dispute this doctrine.
“I have been reading, father,” falteringly uttered the poet—“I have been reading——”
“Hold your tongue, Long Chi,” exclaimed his parent sharply.
“Father, I obey,” murmured the obedient youth.
“Obedience is the first of virtues, and duty to parents the first of all obedience,” remarked the old man, with a tone that seemed to his son more infallible than the sentence. “Children, obey your parents, saith our religion; and if they are disobedient we give them a touch of the bamboo.” The poet at this moment looked remarkably grave. “Subjects, obey your rulers, saith the law; and if we become unruly we get a touch of the bamboo.” And the father looked as grave as his son.
“That is, I suppose, what is called being bamboo-zled,” observed Oriel Porphyry with a smile.
“It is no laughing matter to us, I can assure you,” added the old man feelingly; “but it is a fine thing for children. Our religion says, Spare the bamboo, and spoil the child: and I’m attentive to religion.”
“I wish it said, Spoil the bamboo, and——”
“Hold your tongue, Long Chi!” thundered out the parent.
“Father, I obey,” tremblingly replied the son.
“The bastinado is the best thing in the world for children,” continued the elder, frowning upon his offspring. “We are obliged to provide for their bodies, and it is but proper we should do what we can for their soles. When a schism occurs in the family, I always punish it in that way.”
“Then it becomes a sole-cism,” added the young man, sorrowfully.
The old Chinese snatched up a heavy bamboo cane with which he had been walking, and swung it furiously round his head, with the intention of dealing a severe blow upon the poet’s shoulders, but the lover of the adorable Fee Fo Fum jumped out of the way with more agility than submission, and the blow chipped off a corner of the japanned table.
“Is this the way you show your obedience, you undutiful wretch?” shouted Long Chi, as he jumped off the divan, in a rage after the offender. “Where’s your religion? Where’s your duty to parents? Spare the bamboo and spoil the child! Come and be bastinadoed, you ungrateful youth!” So saying, he waddled after his son as rapidly as he could, making desperate attempts to knock him down; but as Long Chi the younger not only was not so dutiful as to wait to be bastinadoed, but jumped out of the way of the blows as fast as they were aimed at him, Long Chi the elder, much fatigued by his exertions, at last returned to the divan, after having afforded infinite diversion to his visitors.
“I wonder the roof doesn’t fall in and cover you, you unnatural offspring!” exclaimed the father, shaking the bamboo at his son, who stood trembling at a respectful distance; then wiping the perspiration from his shaven crown, he added, addressing the young friends, and the poet, by turns, “You are shocked, no doubt, at this instance of youthful depravity—Oh the graceless scoundrel! to run away from his affectionate father, who was going to beat him black and blue!—But I am happy to say, that there are few children in China so indifferent to the mild virtues of paternal government.—Come here, and let me knock your undutiful head into a thousand pieces, you vagabond!—It is a sad thing, I acknowledge, for the father of a family, who is anxious to bring up a child in the way it should go, to find it so insensible of his loving-kindness.—Oh, if I had you near enough, I’d smash you into a custard, you graceless varlet!—but you see a parent’s heart is always overflowing with natural affection for his own flesh and blood.—By the great Fo, I should be delighted to bastinado you within an inch of your life!—Religion and morality, in these atheistical times, are thought nothing of by some children.—Haven’t I brought you up, you heathen! on purpose to knock you down?—But this isn’t the worst of it—they have become rank republicans. They have no proper notion of law, order, or government. When the father takes to his bamboo, the son takes to his heels—abominable rebel!—and when one flies in a passion the other flies in his face—unparalleled traitor!”
The entrance of servants, announcing that dinner was ready, put an end to the altercation; and Long Chi the elder, with much suavity, pressed his visitors to remain his guests for the remainder of the day; which invitation Oriel Porphyry, imagining that he should be free from all persecution from the rhyming propensities of his host’s son, and expecting some amusement from the peculiarities of the two, forgot his engagements, and agreed to prolong his visit. Long Chi the elder then took one hand of each of his guests in his own and proceeded with them into a handsome apartment, furnished in a style similar to the one they had left. In the centre was a small low table, having four seats or cushions at its sides. The father and son sat opposite each other, cross-legged: and their visitors sat as comfortably as they could, facing each other, at the other sides of the table. Before each was placed three elegant porcelain saucers, one containing soy, another a small quantity of vinegar, and the other was empty; and, beside these, were two little ivory sticks. The other part of the table was covered with similar porcelain saucers, filled with various specimens of Chinese cookery in fish, flesh, and fowl, cut small; and servants handed round these with dishes of vegetables, such as cabbages, cucumbers, rice, and cauliflowers; and pastry of many different kinds, as they were directed by the host.
Both Oriel and Zabra watched with considerable surprise the two Chinese take the little ivory sticks in the three first fingers of the right hand, and, placing the head forward, and opening the mouth wide, dip them in the saucers, catching up pieces of flesh, which they flavoured with the vinegar, and dexterously flinging them into their mouths; and repeating the process so rapidly, that the eye could scarcely follow their movements. The guests attempted the same manœuvres; but, as may easily be imagined, they were not so successful: for one piece that went into the mouth, a dozen went out; and, rapidly as the different saucers were handed to them, by the desire of the master of the house, they found that their appetites were not in any thing like the same degree becoming satisfied. Pieces of silver paper were frequently placed near them, with which they as frequently wiped their mouths and fingers, and not before such an operation was required; for their awkward attempts at imitating their entertainers occasioned them to deposit on their persons a considerable portion of the gravy or sauces in which the meat was dressed. Old Long Chi was indefatigable in endeavouring to make his visiters taste the contents of every saucer upon the table; in which effort they would gladly have seconded him, had their ability kept pace with their inclinations; but, to their exceeding disappointment, they found that the more they tried the less they swallowed; and, although they dipped their sticks and bobbed their heads after the savoury viands as they dropped from their treacherous hold, they had the mortification of finding, when the saucers were cleared away, that they were left in the enjoyment of quite as much appetite as they possessed when they first sat down to dinner.
Several kinds of soups were now brought on table, in curious boat-shaped vessels of porcelain; and with these, to the great gratification of the guests, appeared ivory spoons. Every one of the soups was tasted; and gladly would Oriel have made use of his spoon upon the more substantial cookeries that had been carried away: but he saw no more of them; and, the table having been cleared of the soups, fruits, and preserves, with glasses of a spirit made from rice were handed round. At this time, Long Chi the elder bent his head reverentially, and said, in a fervent manner, and with an audible voice,
“Grant, O Fo, that the good things thou hast so bountifully provided for us do not interfere with our digestion, or trouble us with apoplexy!” and left the apartment to change his dress; soon after which the guests, preceded by the younger Long Chi, returned to the saloon, where they partook of tea and sweetmeats.
“Now that the old boy has gone,” said the melancholy poet, as soon as he had seated himself on the divan, “I will give you the felicitous gratification of hearing the perusal of my great epic in praise of the adorable Fee Fo Fum.”
“Not for the world!” exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, with remarkable emphasis; “I would not trouble you on any account.”
“Trouble!” cried the lover, as he commenced searching in his pouch; “by the inconceivable tail of Confucius, ’tis to me the most superlatively exquisite of extraordinary gratifications; and, when you come to entertain a proper consciousness of the inestimable treasures of intellectual greatness, which I have lavished with so profuse a liberality for the purpose of giving immortality to the unrivalled attractions of the adorable Fee Fo Fum, you will acknowledge, with that profound sagacity which you have already evinced by your commendation of my incorruptible effusions, that the particular portions of the diurnal revolution you have passed in obtaining an adequate knowledge of its innumerable excellences, has appeared to you to proceed with such an agreeable velocity, that you cannot, with any particular positiveness, assert that you have, during that period, been in a state which is vulgarly called existence.”
“There is no doubt of it,” replied Oriel, with considerable uneasiness, as he observed his tormentor unfolding a paper for perusal; “but I can only enjoy such things at certain periods; and at present I am positive that the merits of your productions would be entirely lost upon me.”
“By the great Fo, impossible!” exclaimed the poet. “In what corner of the world hides the wretch so lost to every noble feeling—so lost to every sense of excellence—so inhuman, unnatural, and preposterously ignorant—as to listen to the incorruptible wisdom with which I can enlighten him, and not become transported into the very heaven of heavens?”
“You have already enlightened us to an extent as far as our limited intellects allow us to be enlightened by such productions as those you have read,” observed Zabra, with an earnest attempt to be serious; “and it would be only throwing away the talents you possess on persons utterly incompetent to appreciate their merits, if you continue the perusal of your effusions.”
“All imaginary,” said the persevering versifier; “and you will forget it in your sense of the sublime which must be excited by hearing the perusal of the following passage.” Long Chi the younger had opened his manuscript, had made a preparatory flourish of his hand, and had commenced some description, with the ordinary exclamation, “Oh!” when, happening to cast his eye towards the door, he encountered the frowning visage of his father. His hand dropped from its elevation: he quickly whipped his papers into his pouch, and jumped off the divan, with a celerity particularly acceptable to Zabra and his companion.
Old Long Chi appeared in a dress much more splendid than the one he had previously worn; and, gravely fixing himself in the seat his son had vacated, he commenced a conversation upon the business and voyage of his guests. Old Long Chi was a merchant of considerable experience and great wealth, with whom Master Porphyry had long had commercial dealings. He was remarkable for a profound gravity, a pair of moustachios the points of which descended to his chin, and a tail of hair which was the admiration of all his countrymen. Although he had passed the early part of his life in India, and had married an Anglo-Indian, on his return, like all Chinese, he continued the customs of his country, and gloried in its fancied superiority over the rest of the world. He had always been distinguished as a severe moralist. He seemed desirous of acquiring the praise of the Bonzes for the regularity of his attendance at the temples; and sought to be respected in society for the liberality of his contributions towards religious objects. Oriel and he were a considerable time agreeing about some merchandise that both had to barter; during which the melancholy poet stood at a respectful distance, looking at his parent, and then at the bamboo, with more dread than affection; while Zabra amused himself by taking notice of the scene before him.
“You have not seen much of our incomparable country, I suppose?” inquired the old man as he sipped a strong infusion of the tea leaf from a beautiful porcelain cup.
“I have only landed this morning,” replied his guest.
“Ah! then you have much to see,” added the other. “It is the most ancient government under the sun; and such a government! such laws, such institutions, and such a religion! The Emperor is quite a father to his subjects.”
“With the bamboo, father?” asked his son tremblingly.
“Hold you tongue, Long Chi!” bawled out the old man.
“Father, I obey!” murmured the youth submissively.
“Are the laws mild in their operation?” inquired Zabra.
“Remarkably so,” replied Long Chi the elder. “When punishment is inflicted, it is done on the most humane principles: you may get bastinadoed till you faint with pain; and then you will get bastinadoed till you recover.”
“How very paternal!” exclaimed the young Long Chi emphatically.
“Silence, Long Chi!” shouted the old man.
“Father, I obey!” said his obedient son.
Both Zabra and his patron seemed much amused by this description of the mildness of the Chinese laws; but, fearing, if he pressed the subject much farther, the bamboo might come into operation in the domestic sovereignty with a similar character, Oriel Porphyry said,—
“I was much surprised with the great variety of dishes that appeared at dinner.”
“Our preparations for the table are endless,” responded his host. “In our cookery books we have fifty different ways of dressing dogs’ ears.”
“I could find a way of dressing dogs’ ears in any book,” muttered the melancholy poet at a distance.
“I’ll give yours a dressing, you puppy! if you don’t hold your tongue,” bawled his father.
“Dogs’ ears!” exclaimed Zabra in surprise: “we had none to-day, had we?”
“We had six different varieties, of each of which you partook,” replied the other.
“Bah!” said Oriel Porphyry, with a countenance expressing any thing but pleasure.
“But that was not the only delicacy brought on table,” continued the old man. “You seemed particularly to enjoy a fricassee of the rats of Loo Choo.”
“Rats! we haven’t been eating rats, surely?” demanded Zabra, as if horrorstruck at the idea.
“And you swallowed nearly the whole of the soup made from the large slugs of Japan!” he added.
“Ugh!” exclaimed both his visiters in a breath, looking in the highest degree disgusted at the idea of such fare.
“It is dangerous,” said the melancholy poet, gravely, “to load either the stomach or your arms with slugs; especially——” He was not allowed time to finish the sentence; for, seeing his father snatch up the dreaded bamboo, and spring off the divan towards him, with a look threatening utter extermination, he dived under a table, leaped over an ottoman, dodged round several vases, and then rapidly made his exit out at the door, closely pursued by his parent; and their visiters, fancying that they had had quite enough of Chinese hospitality, hastened their departure.
They were proceeding through the narrow streets of Canton, bounded by the gloomy walls that shut out the houses from public view, experiencing some very disagreeable sensations, when they heard a violent altercation, and thought they distinguished voices familiar to them. They listened.
“Oh! oh! oh! This is not arguing logically. Oh! oh! This is demonstration without reason. Oh! oh! oh!” was heard amid a shower of blows.
“Oh! oh! you’re breaking my back—don’t you see! Ah! murder! help!” was shouted with similar accompaniments; and a door in the wall opening, out ran Fortyfolios and Tourniquet, making a desperate outcry, and vainly striving to save themselves from the thick sticks of half a dozen infuriated Chinese, who were belabouring them without mercy. Oriel, as soon as he saw the state of the case, rushed in amongst the attacking party; quickly deprived one of his weapon, and laid about him with such dexterity and vigour, that three out of the six were left senseless on the ground, and the rest had vanished before the philosophers discovered to whom they were indebted for their rescue.
“I am astonished that I should have found you in such a situation,” remarked the young merchant to the professor and his companion, who, with most rueful visages, were busily engaged in rubbing their legs, shoulders, arms, and backs.
“Why, I will explain it to you as logically as I can,” said Fortyfolios, moving his features and body into an abundance of contortions. “Oh, this pain! it certainly is a physical evil.”
“That I deny!” eagerly exclaimed the other, writhing from the effects of his beating. “Pain is a perception of the mind, and cannot exist independently of mental perceptions—don’t you see?”
“Impossible!” replied the professor, limping along as if every bone in his body was broken. “I maintain that it is a sensation purely corporeal, as there never yet was any pain where there was no body.”
“You know nothing about it,” sharply rejoined the doctor, cautiously feeling with his hands to discover his fractures. “There is mental anguish, in which the physical has no connection—don’t you see?”
“But, gentlemen, what has this argument to do with the information I required?” asked the young merchant.
“I was about to enter into the subject in a proper manner, when Doctor Tourniquet interrupted me,” observed Fortyfolios.
“I deny that!” eagerly exclaimed the surgeon.
“Doctor Tourniquet, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!” said the professor, assuming all his dignity.
“I deny that!” repeated the pertinacious disputant.
“Doctor, you are more than usually disputative,” remarked Zabra.
“I deny that!” continued he: and it now became evident to Oriel Porphyry and his young friend, that both the professor and the doctor were exhilarated into a state nearly approaching intoxication.
“Demonstration! demonstration! Give me accurate demonstration: I’ll not be convinced without it—don’t you see?” said the surgeon.
“Argument is thrown away upon you: you are unreasonable, illogical, and inconvincible,” muttered the other.
“Prove it! prove it! Give me the proof positive—let me behold the proof circumstantial,” exclaimed his antagonist.
“Doctor Tourniquet, I beg you’ll be silent,” said the young merchant, in a tone that admitted of no dispute; and the doctor seemed only anxious to discover the extent of the hurts he had received. “And now, Professor Fortyfolios,” he continued, “you can proceed.”
“To come to a proper understanding of the case, you must be made aware that we left the Albatross on purpose to see whatever was worthy of observation in the city,” observed the professor; “and, as I possessed a letter of introduction to a Columbian resident, there we first proceeded. We were heartily welcomed, and treated with a national hospitality; and were shown several remarkable things, of which the world will hear at a fitting opportunity. In returning from a place we had visited together, our friend suddenly left us to talk to some acquaintance he saw at the end of the street; and we thought we saw him go into a house, where we knocked. We were admitted; and I began explaining to the fellows, by whom we were immediately surrounded, that I desired to see my friend; but, without the slightest attempt at argument, the unreasonable brutes commenced beating us with heavy cudgels, till they were dispersed by your appearance.”
“Let us see if I have killed these poor wretches,” said Oriel, turning back to the place where he had left the three prostrate Chinese; but, to his great astonishment, and to the amazement of his companions, not a trace of either of them was to be seen. The dead men had taken advantage of their enemy being at a distance to scamper off from the field of battle as fast as their legs could carry them; and when the conqueror came to examine the destruction he had committed, he had the mortification of discovering that his triumph might take same note of “the missing,” but the number of killed and wounded was not so easily ascertained.