The Voyage of Captain Popanilla
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Benjamin Disraeli >> The Voyage of Captain Popanilla
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8 THE VOYAGE OF CAPTAIN POPANILLA
by Benjamin Disraeli
This narrative of an imaginary voyage was first published in 1827.
CHAPTER 1
There is an island in the Indian Ocean, so unfortunate as not yet to
have been visited either by Discovery Ships or Missionary Societies. It
is a place where all those things are constantly found which men most
desire to see, and with the sight of which they are seldom favoured. It
abounds in flowers, and fruit, and sunshine. Lofty mountains, covered
with green and mighty forests, except where the red rocks catch the
fierce beams of the blazing sun, bowery valleys, broad lakes, gigantic
trees, and gushing rivers bursting from rocky gorges, are crowned with a
purple and ever cloudless sky. Summer, in its most unctuous state and
most mellow majesty, is here perpetual. So intense and overpowering, in
the daytime, is the rich union of heat and perfume, that living animal
or creature is never visible; and were you and I to pluck, before
sunset, the huge fruit from yonder teeming tree, we might fancy
ourselves for the moment the future sinners of another Eden. Yet a
solitude it is not.
The island is surrounded by a calm and blue lagoon, formed by a ridge of
coral rocks, which break the swell of the ocean, and prevent the noxious
spray from banishing the rich shrubs which grow even to the water's
edge. It is a few minutes before sunset, that the first intimation of
animal existence in this seeming solitude is given, by the appearance of
mermaids; who, floating on the rosy sea, congregate about these rocks.
They sound a loud but melodious chorus from their sea-shells, and a
faint and distant chorus soon answers from the island. The mermaidens
immediately repeat their salutations, and are greeted with a nearer and
a louder answer. As the red and rayless sun drops into the glowing
waters, the choruses simultaneously join; and rushing from the woods,
and down the mountain steeps to the nearest shore, crowds of human
beings, at the same moment, appear and collect.
The inhabitants of this island, in form and face, do not misbecome the
clime and the country. With the vivacity of a Faun, the men combine the
strength of a Hercules and the beauty of an Adonis; and, as their more
interesting companions flash upon his presence, the least classical of
poets might be excused for imagining that, like their blessed Goddess,
the women had magically sprung from the brilliant foam of that ocean
which is gradually subsiding before them.
But sunset in this land is not the signal merely for the evidence of
human existence. At the moment that the Islanders, crowned with
flowers, and waving goblets and garlands, burst from their retreats,
upon each mountain peak a lion starts forward, stretches his proud tail,
and, bellowing to the sun, scours back exulting to his forest; immense
bodies, which before would have been mistaken for the trunks of trees,
now move into life, and serpents, untwining their green and glittering
folds, and slowly bending their crested heads around, seem proudly
conscious of a voluptuous existence; troops of monkeys leap from tree to
tree; panthers start forward, and alarmed, not alarming, instantly
vanish; a herd of milk-white elephants tramples over the back-ground of
the scene; and instead of gloomy owls and noxious beetles, to hail the
long-enduring twilight, from the bell of every opening flower beautiful
birds, radiant with every rainbow tint, rush with a long and living
melody into the cool air.
The twilight in this island is not that transient moment of unearthly
bliss, which, in our less favoured regions, always leaves us so
thoughtful and so sad; on the contrary, it lasts many hours, and
consequently the Islanders are neither moody nor sorrowful. As they
sleep during the day, four or five hours of 'tipsy dance and revelry'
are exercise and not fatigue. At length, even in this delightful
region, the rosy tint fades into purple, and the purple into blue; the
white moon gleams, and at length glitters; and the invisible stars first
creep into light, and then blaze into radiancy. But no hateful dews
discolour their loveliness! and so clear is the air, that instead of the
false appearance of a studded vault, the celestial bodies may be seen
floating in aether, at various distances and of various tints. Ere the
showery fire-flies have ceased to shine, and the blue lights to play
about the tremulous horizon, amid the voices of a thousand birds, the
dancers solace themselves with the rarest fruits, the most delicate
fish, and the most delicious wines; but flesh they love not. They are
an innocent and a happy, though a voluptuous and ignorant race. They
have no manufactures, no commerce, no agriculture, and no
printing-presses; but for their slight clothing they wear the bright
skins of serpents; for corn, Nature gives them the bread-fruit; and for
intellectual amusement, they have a pregnant fancy and a ready wit; tell
inexhaustible stories, and always laugh at each other's jokes. A
natural instinct gave them the art of making wine; and it was the same
benevolent Nature that blessed them also with the knowledge of the art
of making love. But time flies even here. The lovely companions have
danced, and sung, and banqueted, and laughed; what further bliss remains
for man? They rise, and in pairs wander about the island, and then to
their bowers; their life ends with the Night they love so well; and ere
Day, the everlasting conqueror, wave his flaming standard in the
luminous East, solitude and silence will again reign in the ISLE OF
FANTAISIE.
CHAPTER 2
The last and loudest chorus had died away, and the Islanders were
pouring forth their libation to their great enemy the Sun, when suddenly
a vast obscurity spread over the glowing West. They looked at each
other, and turned pale, and the wine from their trembling goblets fell
useless on the shore. The women were too frightened to scream, and, for
the first time in the Isle of Fantaisie, silence existed after sunset.
They were encouraged when they observed that the darkness ceased at that
point in the heavens which overlooked their coral rocks; and perceiving
that their hitherto unsullied sky was pure, even at this moment of
otherwise universal gloom, the men regained their colour, touched the
goblets with their lips, further to reanimate themselves, and the women,
now less discomposed, uttered loud shrieks.
Suddenly the wind roared with unaccustomed rage, the sea rose into large
billows, and a ship was seen tossing in the offing. The Islanders,
whose experience of navigation extended only to a slight paddling in
their lagoon, in the half of a hollow trunk of a tree, for the purpose
of fishing, mistook the tight little frigate for a great fish; and being
now aware of the cause of this disturbance, and at the same time feeling
confident that the monster could never make way through the shallow
waters to the island, they recovered their courage, and gazed upon the
labouring leviathan with the same interested nonchalance with which
students at a modern lecture observe an expounding philosopher.
'What a shadow he casts over the sky!' said the King, a young man, whose
divine right was never questioned by his female subjects. 'What a
commotion in the waters, and what a wind he snorts forth! It certainly
must be the largest fish that exists. I remember my father telling me
that a monstrous fish once got entangled among our rocks, and this part
of the island really smelt for a month; I cannot help fancying that
there is a rather odd smell now; pah!'
A favourite Queen flew to the suffering monarch, and pressing her
aromatic lips upon his offended nostrils, his Majesty recovered.
The unhappy crew of the frigate, who, with the aid of their telescopes,
had detected the crowds upon the shore, now fired their signal guns of
distress, which came sullenly booming through the wind.
'Oh! the great fish is speaking!' was the universal exclamation.
'I begin to get frightened,' said the favourite Queen. 'I am sure the
monster is coming here!' So saying, her Majesty grasped up a handful of
pearls from the shore, to defend herself.
As screaming was now the fashion, all the women of course screamed; and
animated by the example of their sovereign, and armed with the marine
gems, the Amazons assumed an imposing attitude.
Just at the moment that they had worked up their enthusiasm to the
highest pitch, and were actually desirous of dying for their country,
the ship sunk.
CHAPTER 3
It is the flush of noon; and, strange to say, a human figure is seen
wandering on the shore of the Isle of Fantaisie.
'One of the crew of the wrecked frigate, of course? What an escape!
Fortunate creature! interesting man! Probably the indefatigable Captain
Parry; possibly the undaunted Captain Franklin; perhaps the adventurous
Captain Lyon!'
No! sweet blue-eyed girl! my plots are not of that extremely guessable
nature so admired by your adorable sex. Indeed, this book is so
constructed that if you were even, according to custom, to commence its
perusal by reading the last page, you would not gain the slightest
assistance in finding out 'how the story ends.'
The wanderer belongs to no frigate-building nation. He is a true
Fantaisian; who having, in his fright, during yesterday's storm, lost
the lock of hair which, in a moment of glorious favour, he had ravished
from his fair mistress's brow, is now, after a sleepless night, tracing
every remembered haunt of yesterday, with the fond hope of regaining his
most precious treasure. Ye Gentlemen of England, who live at home at
ease, know full well the anxiety and exertion, the days of management,
and the nights of meditation which the rape of a lock requires, and you
can consequently sympathize with the agitated feelings of the handsome
and the hapless Popanilla.
The favourite of all the women, the envy of all the men, Popanilla
passed a pleasant life. No one was a better judge of wine, no one had a
better taste for fruit, no one danced with more elegant vivacity, and no
one whispered compliments in a more meaning tone. His stories ever had
a point, his repartees were never ill-natured. What a pity that such an
amiable fellow should have got into such a scrape!
In spite of his grief, however, Popanilla soon found that the ardency of
his passion evaporated under a smoking sun; and, exhausted, he was about
to return home from his fruitless search, when his attention was
attracted by a singular appearance. He observed before him, on the
shore, a square and hitherto unseen form. He watched it for some
minutes, but it was motionless. He drew nearer, and observed it with
intense attention; but, if it were a being, it certainly was fast
asleep. He approached close to its side, but it neither moved nor
breathed. He applied his nose to the mysterious body, and the elegant
Fantaisian drew back immediately from a most villanous smell of pitch.
Not to excite too much, in this calm age, the reader's curiosity, let
him know at once that this strange substance was a sea-chest. Upon it
was marked, in large black letters, S. D. K. No. 1.
For the first time in his life Popanilla experienced a feeling of
overwhelming curiosity. His fatigue, his loss, the scorching hour, and
the possible danger were all forgotten in an indefinite feeling that the
body possessed contents more interesting than its unpromising exterior,
and in a resolute determination that the development of the mystery
should be reserved only for himself.
Although he felt assured that he must be unseen, he could not refrain
from throwing a rapid glance of anxiety around him. It was a moment of
perfect stillness: the island slept in sunshine, and even the waves had
ceased to break over the opposing rocks. A thousand strange and
singular thoughts rushed into his mind, but his first purpose was ever
uppermost; and at length, unfolding his girdle of skin, he tied the
tough cincture round the chest, and, exerting all his powers, dragged
his mysterious waif into the nearest wood.
But during this operation the top fell off, and revealed the neatest
collection of little packages that ever pleased the eye of the admirer
of spruce arrangement. Popanilla took up packets upon all possible
subjects; smelt them, but they were not savory; he was sorely puzzled.
At last, he lighted on a slender volume bound in brown calf, which, with
the confined but sensual notions of a savage, he mistook for
gingerbread, at least. It was 'The Universal Linguist, by Mr. Hamilton;
or, the Art of Dreaming in Languages.'
No sooner had Popanilla passed that well-formed nose, which had been so
often admired by the lady whose lock of hair he had unfortunately lost,
a few times over a few pages of the Hamiltonian System than he sank upon
his bed of flowers, and, in spite of his curiosity, was instantly
overcome by a profound slumber. But his slumber, though deep, was not
peaceful, and he was the actor in an agitating drama.
He found himself alone in a gay and glorious garden. In the centre of
it grew a pomegranate tree of prodigious size; its top was lost in the
sky, and its innumerable branches sprang out in all directions, covered
with large fruit of a rich golden hue. Beautiful birds were perched
upon all parts of the tree, and chanted with perpetual melody the
beauties of their bower. Tempted by the delicious sight, Popanilla
stretched forward his ready hand to pluck; but no sooner had he grasped
the fruit than the music immediately ceased, the birds rushed away, the
sky darkened, the tree fell under the wind, the garden vanished, and
Popanilla found himself in the midst of a raging sea, buffeting the
waves.
He would certainly have been drowned had he not been immediately
swallowed up by the huge monster which had not only been the occasion of
the storm of yesterday, but, ah! most unhappy business! been the
occasion also of his losing that lock of hair.
Ere he could congratulate himself on his escape he found fresh cause for
anxiety, for he perceived that he was no longer alone. No friends were
near him; but, on, the contrary, he was surrounded by strangers of a far
different aspect. They were men certainly; that is to say, they had
legs and arms, and heads, and bodies as himself; but instead of that
bloom of youth, that regularity of feature, that amiable joyousness of
countenance, which he had ever been accustomed to meet and to love in
his former companions, he recoiled in horror from the swarthy
complexions, the sad visages, and the haggard features of his present
ones. They spoke to him in a harsh and guttural accent. He would have
fled from their advances; but then he was in the belly of a whale! When
he had become a little used to their tones he was gratified by finding
that their attentions were far from hostile; and, after having received
from them a few compliments, he began to think that they were not quite
so ugly. He discovered that the object of their inquires was the fatal
pomegranate which still remained in his hand. They admired its beauty,
and told him that they greatly esteemed an individual who possessed such
a mass of precious ore. Popanilla begged to undeceive them, and
courteously presented the fruit. No sooner, however, had he parted with
this apple of discord, than the countenances of his companions changed.
Immediately discovering its real nature, they loudly accused Popanilla
of having deceived them; he remonstrated, and they recriminated; and the
great fish, irritated by their clamour, lashed its huge tail, and with
one efficacious vomit spouted the innocent Popanilla high in the air.
He fell with such a dash into the waves that he was awakened by the
sound of his own fall.
The dreamer awoke amidst real chattering, and scuffling, and clamour. A
troop of green monkeys had been aroused by his unusual occupation, and
had taken the opportunity of his slumber to become acquainted with some
of the first principles of science. What progress they had made it is
difficult to ascertain; because, each one throwing a tract at
Popanilla's head, they immediately disappeared. It is said, however,
that some monkeys have been since seen skipping about the island, with
their tails cut off; and that they have even succeeded in passing
themselves off for human beings among those people who do not read
novels, and are consequently unacquainted with mankind.
The morning's adventure immediately rushed into Popanilla's mind, and he
proceeded forthwith to examine the contents of his chest; but with
advantages which had not been yet enjoyed by those who had previously
peeped into it. The monkeys had not been composed to sleep by the
'Universal Linguist' of Mr. Hamilton. As for Popanilla, he took up a
treatise on hydrostatics, and read it straight through on the spot. For
the rest of the day he was hydrostatically mad; nor could the commonest
incident connected with the action or conveyance of water take place
without his speculating on its cause and consequence.
So enraptured was Popanilla with his new accomplishments and
acquirements that by degrees he avoided attendance on the usual evening
assemblages, and devoted himself solely to the acquirement of useful
knowledge. After a short time his absence was remarked; but the
greatest and the most gifted has only to leave his coterie, called the
world, for a few days, to be fully convinced of what slight importance
he really is. And so Popanilla, the delight of society and the especial
favourite of the women, was in a very short time not even inquired
after. At first, of course, they supposed that he was in love, or that
he had a slight cold, or that he was writing his memoirs; and as these
suppositions, in due course, take their place in the annals of society
as circumstantial histories, in about a week one knew the lady, another
had beard him sneeze, and a third had seen the manuscript. At the end
of another week Popanilla was forgotten.
CHAPTER 4
Six months had elapsed since the first chest of the cargo of Useful
Knowledge destined for the fortunate Maldives had been digested by the
recluse Popanilla; for a recluse he had now become. Great students are
rather dull companions. Our Fantaisian friend, during his first
studies, was as moody, absent, and querulous as are most men of genius
during that mystical period of life. He was consequently avoided by the
men and quizzed by the women, and consoled himself for the neglect of
the first and the taunts of the second by the indefinite sensation that
he should, some day or other, turn out that little being called a great
man. As for his mistress, she considered herself insulted by being
addressed by a man who had lost her lock of hair. When the chest was
exhausted Popanilla was seized with a profound melancholy. Nothing
depresses a man's spirits more completely than a self-conviction of
self-conceit; and Popanilla, who had been accustomed to consider himself
and his companions as the most elegant portion of the visible creation,
now discovered, with dismay, that he and his fellow-islanders were
nothing more than a horde of useless savages.
This mortification, however, was soon succeeded by a proud consciousness
that he, at any rate, was now civilised; and that proud consciousness by
a fond hope that in a short time he might become a civiliser. Like all
projectors, he was not of a sanguine temperament; but he did trust that
in the course of another season the Isle of Fantaisie might take its
station among the nations. He was determined, however, not to be too
rapid. It cannot be expected that ancient prejudices can in a moment be
eradicated, and new modes of conduct instantaneously substituted and
established. Popanilla, like a wise man, determined to conciliate. His
views were to be as liberal, as his principles were enlightened. Men
should be forced to do nothing. Bigotry, and intolerance, and
persecution were the objects of his decided disapprobation; resembling,
in this particular, all the great and good men who have ever existed,
who have invariably maintained this opinion so long as they have been in
the minority.
Popanilla appeared once more in the world.
'Dear me! is that you, Pop?' exclaimed the ladies. 'What have you been
doing with yourself all this time? Travelling, I suppose. Every one
travels now. Really you travelled men get quite bores. And where did
you get that coat, if it be a coat?'
Such was the style in which the Fantaisian females saluted the long
absent Popanilla; and really, when a man shuts himself up from the world
for a considerable time, and fancies that in condescending to re-enter
it he has surely the right to expect the homage due to a superior being,
these salutations are awkward. The ladies of England peculiarly excel
in this species of annihilation; and while they continue to drown
puppies, as they daily do, in a sea of sarcasm, I think no true
Englishman will hesitate one moment in giving them the preference for
tact and manner over all the vivacious French, all the self-possessing
Italian, and all the tolerant German women. This is a claptrap, and I
have no doubt will sell the book.
Popanilla, however, had not re-entered society with the intention of
subsiding into a nonentity; and he therefore took the opportunity, a few
minutes after sunset, just as his companions were falling into the
dance, to beg the favour of being allowed to address his sovereign only
for one single moment.
'Sire!' said he, in that mild tone of subdued superciliousness with
which we should always address kings, and which, while it vindicates our
dignity, satisfactorily proves that we are above the vulgar passion of
envy, 'Sire!' but let us not encourage that fatal faculty of oratory so
dangerous to free states, and therefore let us give only the 'substance
of Popanilla's speech.' * He commenced his address in a manner somewhat
resembling the initial observations of those pleasing pamphlets which
are the fashion of the present hour; and which, being intended to
diffuse information among those who have not enjoyed the opportunity and
advantages of study, and are consequently of a gay and cheerful
disposition, treat of light subjects in a light and polished style.
Popanilla, therefore, spoke of man in a savage state, the origin of
society, and the elements of the social compact, in sentences which
would not have disgraced the mellifluous pen of Bentham. From these he
naturally digressed into an agreeable disquisition on the Anglo-Saxons;
and, after a little badinage on the Bill of Rights, flew off to an airy
aper u of the French Revolution. When he had arrived at the Isle of
Fantaisie he begged to inform his Majesty that man was born for
something else besides enjoying himself. It was, doubtless, extremely
pleasant to dance and sing, to crown themselves with chaplets, and to
drink wine; but he was 'free to confess' that he did not imagine that
the most barefaced hireling of corruption could for a moment presume to
maintain that there was any utility in pleasure. If there were no
utility in pleasure, it was quite clear that pleasure could profit no
one. If, therefore, it were unprofitable, it was injurious; because
that which does not produce a profit is equivalent to a loss; therefore
pleasure is a losing business; consequently pleasure is not pleasant.
* Substance of a speech, in Parliamentary language, means a printed
edition of an harangue which contains all that was uttered in the
House, and about as much again.
He also showed that man was not born for himself, but for society; that
the interests of the body are alone to be considered, and not those of
the individual; and that a nation might be extremely happy, extremely
powerful, and extremely rich, although every individual member of it
might at the same time be miserable, dependent, and in debt. He
regretted to observe that no one in the island seemed in the slightest
decree conscious of the object of his being. Man is created for a
purpose; the object of his existence is to perfect himself. Man is
imperfect by nature, because if nature had made him perfect he would
have had no wants; and it is only by supplying his wants that utility
can be developed. The development of utility is therefore the object of
our being, and the attainment of this great end the cause of our
existence. This principle clears all doubts, and rationally accounts
for a state of existence which has puzzled many pseudo-philosophers.
Popanilla then went on to show that the hitherto received definitions of
man were all erroneous; that man is neither a walking animal, nor a
talking animal, nor a cooking animal, nor a lounging animal, nor a
debt-incurring, animal, nor a tax-paying animal, nor a printing animal,
nor a puffing animal, but a developing animal. Development is the
discovery of utility. By developing the water we get fish; by
developing the earth we get corn, and cash, and cotton; by developing
the air we get breath; by developing the fire we get heat. Thus, the
use of the elements is demonstrated to the meanest capacity. But it was
not merely a material development to which he alluded; a moral
development was equally indispensable. He showed that it was impossible
for a nation either to think too much or to do too much. The life of
man was therefore to be passed in a moral and material development until
he had consummated his perfection. It was the opinion of Popanilla that
this great result was by no means so near at hand as some philosophers
flattered themselves; and that it might possibly require another
half-century before even the most civilised nation could be said to have
completed the destiny of the human race. At the same time, he intimated
that there were various extraordinary means by which this rather
desirable result might be facilitated; and there was no saying what the
building of a new University might do, of which, when built, he had no
objection to be appointed Principal.
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