Here he of course found an excellent dinner spread upon a table of mahogany; his chair was of the same material. He was helped to turtle and ate it with a silver spoon. To gratify his palate he drank ever and anon iced punch, sweetened he asked not how, and strengthened with rum. Over his turbot he sprinkled Cayenne pepper, and flavoured his cucumber with Chili vinegar. With a curry he called for hot pickles, and having in the dessert refreshed himself with some excellent preserved ginger, took a cup of coffee, and concluding with a small glass of noyeau, stepped again into his dennett, and reached his villa in safety, blessing the names of Buxton, Wilberforce, and Macaulay, and receiving the tender compliments of his affectionate wife upon the virtue of drinking nothing but free sugar.
And this is what five hundred persons do, under the guidance of the Liverpool speculators, and the leaders of apes and asses in this metropolis. Let us merely point out to such of our readers who like the followers of cant, and will not take the trouble of thinking for themselves, those inconsistencies which one day's adventures of our pious "saint" develop.
Had he acted upon principle instead of policy, this exemplary old body would have remembered that rum and coffee, as well as sugar, are the produce of slave-labour,—that his morning's chocolate and his afternoon's liqueur have the same origin; he would neither have ventured to trust to his lance-wood springs, nor have dared to blow his nose with his cotton handkerchief; neither would he in the morning after his hearty dinner, have been prevailed upon to take a little tamarind drink to cool his constitution, nor have allowed his apothecary to suggest an exhibition of castor-oil if his indigestion continued; but even if he had overcome these scruples, how would he have summoned sufficient fortitude to put into circulation his sovereigns and shillings, which, although our only circulating medium, are furnished by the labour of slaves, chained to their horrid work, lest they should risk the punishment of death by endeavouring to escape the toil and climate to which they are consigned.
It is with the slavery question as it is with the over-refinement of all other feelings,—it only requires to be looked into and analysed to be detected in all its flagrant folly and absurdity. Had our pious "free and easy" sugar friend followed up his own doctrine, he would long before this have quitted his villa, disposed of his dennett, and retired to some cave, where neither eating nor drinking, nor furniture dyed with fustic and logwood, were required, and have shown himself a sincere saint, an abjurer of all the good things of this world, and a man of ten thousand; but until we see the whole life of a man in the same keeping, and find him equally scrupulous upon all points, and not exhibiting his piety only where his mercantile prospects are implicated, we must beg to avow our opinion that the "free and easy" sugar system at fourteen-pence per pound, however profitable to the grocer, and gratifying to the East India proprietor, is neither more nor less than a contemptible absurdity, and a most unqualified humbug.
PRINCE PUCKLER-MUSKAU'S TOUR.[62]
It would appear that the German publishers are before even our own in the arts of the puff; at least we have not yet seen a "fashionable novel" of the Burlington Street manufactory ushered into public life with the trumpetings of a first-rate English author. This "celebrated tour," as the advertisements style it, has, however, the advantage of a preliminary flourish from no less a person than Meinherr von Goethe, who, among other things, extols the tourist for the accuracy of his descriptions of English scenery and society, particularly "the hunting-parties and drinking-bouts, which succeed each other in an unbroken series," and which "are made tolerable to us" (i. e. M. Goethe) "only because he can tolerate them." "The peculiarities of English manners," continues the puff, "are drawn vividly and distinctly, without exaggeration;" but how the sage of Weimar should have fancied himself qualified to form so decided an opinion upon the accuracy of his protegé, we do not presume exactly to understand; inasmuch as we have reason to believe that he has suffered eighty-three years of his youth to slip away without availing himself of an opportunity of judging of our peculiarities from personal experience.
"Like other unprejudiced travellers of modern times, (he proceeds) our author is not very much enchanted with the English form of existence—his cordial and sincere admiration is often accompanied by unsparing censure.... He is by no means inclined to favour the faults and weaknesses of the English; and in these cases—(what cases?)—he has the greatest and best among them,—those whose reputation is universal,—on his side.
"The great charm, however, which attaches us to his side, consists in the moral manifestations of his nature, which run through the book: his clear understanding, and simple natural manner, render him highly interesting. We are agreeably affected by the sight of a right-minded and kind-hearted man, who describes with charming frankness the conflict between will and accomplishment!" (What does the Patriarch mean?)