Or the Homeric simplicity of the “Ansary” tribe, who believe London to be surrounded by sea, and inquire if the English dwell in ships, and are thus corrected by their would-be interpreter “Keferinis”—
“The English live in ships only during six months of the year—principally when they go to India—the rest entirely at their country houses.”
Similarly, too, is the oblique sarcasm of “Tancred’s” “Fakredeen”—
“... We ought never to be surprised at anything that is done by the English, who are, after all, in a certain sense, savages.... Everything they require is imported from other countries.... I have been assured at Beiroot that they do not grow even their own cotton; but that I can hardly believe. Even their religion is an exotic, and, as they are indebted for that to Syria, it is not surprising they should import their education from Greece.”
So, too, the piteous plight of the two honest servants—“Freeman and Trueman”—who complain to their master, in sight of Sinai, that they “do miss the ‘ome-brewed ale and the family prayers;” and the twice-raised wonder of the “Swells” as to what could drag one of their compeers to Palestine: “I believe Jeremiah somewhere mentions partridges.” Nor should “St. Aldegonde’s sigh”—“of a rebellious Titan”—at refusing to attend morning church at Brentham be forgotten: “Sunday in London is bad, but Sunday in the country is infernal;” or his dainty wife’s elaborate efforts that he should never be bored; or the handsome Duke’s[175] daily thanksgiving as he completed his “consummate toilette” that he had a family “worthy of him.”
“Rigby’s” election, too—an excellent example—well illustrates the man to whom the country meant nothing in comparison with the constituency, and to whom his titled patron’s choice of him as executor was a “sublime truth.” The whole scene is one of sustained humour. I will only cite “Rigby’s” “grand peroration.”
“... He assured them that the eyes of the whole empire were on this particular election (cries of ‘That’s true!’ on all sides), and England expected every man to do his duty. ‘And who do you expect to do yours,’ inquired a gentleman below, ‘about that ’ere pension?’...”
Then again, the episode of the Justice of the Peace in Venetia, and this from Endymion—
“The chairman opened the proceedings, but was coldly received, though he spoke sensibly and at some length. He then introduced a gentleman who was absolutely an alderman to move a resolution.... The august position of the speaker atoned for his halting rhetoric; and a city which had only just for the first time been invested with municipal privileges was hushed before a man who might in time even become a mayor.”
So, too, once more; the description of “Armine’s” experiences in the sponging-house, where the only literature was a Hebrew Bible. This is from Henrietta Temple. In Vivian Grey, his first novel, occurs the same whimsical humour that is to be found in his last, Endymion. The German statesman is pointing a gourmet-metaphysician, “stuffing ‘kalte schale’ in a corner.”