CHAP. II.
Squire Headlong, in the mean while, was quadripartite in his locality; that is to say, he was superintending the operations in four scenes of action; namely, the cellar—the library—the picture-gallery—and the dining-room, preparing for the reception of his philosophical and dilettanti visitors. His myrmidon on this occasion was a little red-nosed butler, whom nature seemed to have cast in the genuine mould of an antique Silenus, and who waddled about the house after his master, wiping his forehead and panting for breath, while the latter bounced from room to room like a cracker, and was indefatigable in his requisitions for the proximity of his vinous Achates, whose advice and co-operation he deemed no less necessary in the library than in the cellar. Multitudes of packages had arrived, by land and water, from London, and Liverpool, and Chester, and Manchester, and Birmingham, and various parts of the mountains: books—wine—cheese—globes—mathematical instruments—turkeys—telescopes—hams—tongues—microscopes—quadrants—sextants—fiddles—flutes—tea—sugar—electrical machines—figs—spices—air-pumps—soda-water—chemical apparatus—eggs—French-horns—drawing-books—pallets—oils and colours—bottled ale and porter—scenery for a private theatre—pickles and fish-sauce—patent lamps and chandeliers—barrels of oysters—sofas—chairs—tables—carpets—beds—looking-glasses—pictures—fruits and confections—nuts—oranges—lemons—packages of salt-salmon—and jars of Portugal grapes. These arriving with infinite rapidity, and in inexhaustible succession, had been deposited at random as the convenience of the moment dictated—sofas in the cellar—chandeliers in the kitchens—hampers of ale in the drawing-room—and fiddles and fish-sauce in the library. The servants, unpacking all these in furious haste, and flying with them from place to place, according to the tumultuous directions of Squire Headlong and the little fat butler who fumed at his heels, chafed, and crossed, and clashed, and tumbled over one another up stairs and down. All was bustle, uproar, and confusion, yet nothing seemed to advance: while the rage and impetuosity of the Squire continued fermenting to the highest degree of exasperation, which he signified from time to time, by converting some newly-unpacked article, such as a book, a bottle, a ham, or a fiddle, into a missile against the head of some unfortunate servant, who did not seem to move in a ratio of velocity corresponding to the intensity of his master's desires.
In this state of eager preparation we shall leave the happy inhabitants of Headlong Hall, and return to the three philosophers and the unfortunate divine, whom we left limping with a sprained ancle into the breakfast-room of the inn; where his two supporters deposited him safely in a large arm-chair, with his wounded leg comfortably stretched out on another. The morning being extremely cold, he contrived to be seated as near the fire as was consistent with his other object of having a perfect command of the table and its apparatus; which consisted not only of the ordinary comforts of tea and toast, but of a delicious supply of new-laid eggs, and a magnificent round of beef: against which Mr. Escot immediately pointed all the artillery of his eloquence, declaring the use of animal food, conjointly with that of fire, to be one of the principal causes of the present degeneracy of mankind. "The natural and original man," said he, "lived in the woods: the roots and fruits of the earth supplied his simple nutriment: he had few desires, and no diseases. But when he began to sacrifice victims on the altar of superstition, to pursue the goat and the deer, and, by the pernicious invention of fire, to pervert their flesh into food, luxury, disease, and premature death, were let loose upon the world. Such is clearly the correct interpretation of the fable of Prometheus, which is a symbolical portraiture of that disastrous epoch, when man first applied fire to culinary purposes, and thereby surrendered his liver to the vulture of disease. From that period the stature of mankind has been in a state of gradual diminution, and I have not the least doubt that it will continue to grow small by degrees and lamentably less, till the whole race will vanish imperceptibly from the face of the earth."
"I cannot agree," said Mr. Foster, "in the consequences being so very disastrous: but I admit, that the use of animal food retards in some measure, though it cannot materially inhibit, the perfectibility of the species. But the use of fire was indispensably necessary, as Æschylus and Virgil expressly assert, to give being to the various arts of life, which, in their rapid and interminable progress, will finally conduct every individual of the race to the philosophic pinnacle of pure and perfect felicity."
"In the controversy concerning animal and vegetable food," said Mr. Jenkison, "there is much to be said on both sides; and the question being in equipoise, I content myself with a mixed diet, and make a point of eating whatever is placed before me, provided it be good in its kind."
In this opinion his two brother philosophers practically coincided, though they both ran down the theory as highly detrimental to the best interests of man.
"I am really astonished," said the Reverend Doctor Gaster, gracefully picking off the supernal fragments of an egg he had just cracked, and clearing away a space at the top for the reception of a small piece of butter, "I am really astonished, gentlemen, at the very heterodox opinions I have heard you deliver: since nothing can be more obvious than that all animals were created solely and exclusively for the use of man."
"Even the tiger that devours him?" said Mr. Escot.
"Certainly," said Doctor Gaster.
"How do you prove it?" said Mr. Escot.
"It requires no proof," said Doctor Gaster; "it is a point of doctrine. It is written, therefore it is so."
"Nothing can be more logical," said Mr. Jenkison. "It has been said," continued he, "that the ox was expressly made to be eaten by man: it maybe said, by aparity of reasoning, that man was expressly made to be eaten by the tiger: but as wild oxen exist where there are no men, and men where there are no tigers, it would seem that in these instances they do not properly answer the ends of their creation."
"It is a mystery," said Dr. Gaster.
"Not to launch into the question of final causes," said Mr. Escot, helping himself at the same time to a slice of beef, "concerning which I will candidly acknowledge I am as profoundly ignorant as the most dogmatical theologian possibly can be, I just wish to observe, that the pure and peaceful manners which Homer ascribes to the Lotophagi, and which at this day characterize many nations (the Hindoos for example, who subsist exclusively on the fruits of the earth), depose very strongly in favour of a vegetable regimen."
"It may be said, on the contrary," said Mr. Foster, "that animal food acts on the mind as manure does on flowers, forcing it into a degree of expansion it would not otherwise have attained. No one will make a comparison, in point of mental power, between the Hindoos and the ancient Greeks."
"The anatomy of the human stomach," said Mr. Escot, "and the formation of the teeth, clearly place man in the class of frugivorous animals."
"Many anatomists," said Mr. Foster, "are of a different opinion, and agree in discerning the characteristics of the carnivorous classes."
"I am no anatomist," said Mr. Jenkison, "and cannot decide where doctors disagree: in the mean time I conclude that man is omnivorous, and on that conclusion I act."
"Your conclusion is truly orthodox," said the Reverend Doctor Gaster: "indeed, the loaves and fishes are typical of a mixed diet; and the practice of the Church in all ages shows———"
"That it never loses sight of the loaves and fishes," said Mr. Escot.
"It never loses sight of any point of sound doctrine," said the Reverend Doctor.
The coachman now informed them their time was elapsed; nor could all the pathetic remonstrances of the reverend divine, who declared he had not half breakfasted, succeed in gaining one minute from the inexorable Jehu.
"You will allow," said Mr. Foster, as soon as they were again in motion, "that the wild man of the woods could not transport himself over two hundred miles of forest, with as much facility as one of these vehicles transports you and me through the heart of this cultivated country."
"I am certain," said Mr. Escot, "that a wild man can travel an immense distance without fatigue: but what is the advantage of locomotion? The wild man is happy in one spot, and there he remains: the civilized man is wretched in every place he happens to be in, and then congratulates himself on being accommodated with a machine, that will whirl him to another, where he will be just as miserable as ever."
We shall now leave the mail-coach to find its way to Capel Cerig, the nearest point of the Holyhead road to the dwelling of Squire Headlong.