The Romany Rye by George Borrow

  CHAPTER IV

  ON GENTILITY, NONSENSE--ILLUSTRATIONS OF GENTILITY

  What is gentility? People in different stations in England entertaindifferent ideas of what is genteel, {329} but it must be somethinggorgeous, glittering, or tawdry to be considered genteel by any of them.The beau-ideal of the English aristocracy, of course with someexceptions, is some young fellow with an imperial title, a militarypersonage, of course, for what is military is so particularly genteel,with flaming epaulets, a cocked hat and a plume, a prancing charger, anda band of fellows called generals and colonels, with flaming epaulets,cocked hats, and plumes, and prancing chargers vapouring behind him. Itwas but lately that the daughter of an English marquis was heard to saythat the sole remaining wish of her heart--she had known misfortunes, andwas not far from fifty--was to be introduced to--whom? The Emperor ofAustria! The sole remaining wish of the heart of one who ought to havebeen thinking of the grave and judgment was to be introduced to themiscreant who had caused the blood of noble Hungarian females to bewhipped out of their shoulders, for no other crime than devotion to theircountry and its tall and heroic sons. The middle classes--of coursethere are some exceptions--admire the aristocracy, and consider thempinks, the aristocracy who admire the Emperor of Austria, and adored theEmperor of Russia till he became old, ugly, and unfortunate, when theiradoration instantly terminated; for what is more ungenteel than age,ugliness, and misfortune! The beau-ideal with those of the lowerclasses, with peasants and mechanics, is some flourishing railroadcontractor--look, for example, how they worship Mr. Flamson. {330} Thisperson makes his grand debut in the year '39, at a public meeting in theprincipal room of a country inn. He has come into the neighbourhood withthe character of a man worth a million pounds who is to make everybody'sfortune; at this time, however, he is not worth a shilling of his own,though he flashes about dexterously three or four thousand pounds, partof which sum he has obtained by specious pretences, and part from certainindividuals who are his confederates. But in the year '49 he is reallyin possession of the fortune which he and his agents pretended he wasworth ten years before--he is worth a million pounds. By what means hashe come by them? By railroad contracts, for which he takes care to bepaid in hard cash before he attempts to perform them, and to carry outwhich he makes use of the sweat and blood of wretches who, since theirorganization, have introduced crimes and language into England to whichit was previously almost a stranger--by purchasing, with paper, shares byhundreds in the schemes to execute which he contracts, and which are ofhis own devising; which shares he sells as soon as they are at a highpremium, to which they are speedily forced by means of paragraphs,inserted by himself and agents, in newspapers devoted to his interest,utterly reckless of the terrible depreciation to which they are almostinstantly subjected. But he is worth a million pounds, there can be nodoubt of the fact--he has not made people's fortunes, at least, thosewhose fortunes it was said he would make; he has made them away, but hisown he has made, emphatically made it--he is worth a million pounds.Hurrah for the millionaire! The clown who views the pandemonium of redbrick which he has built on the estate which he has purchased in theneighbourhood of the place of his grand debut, in which every species ofarchitecture, Greek, Indian, and Chinese, is employed in caricature--whohears of the grand entertainment he gives at Christmas in the principaldining-room, the hundred wax candles, the waggon-load of plate, and theoceans of wine which form parts of it, and above all the two ostrichpoults, one at the head and the other at the foot of the table, exclaims:'Well, if he a'n't bang up, I don't know who be; why he beats my lordhollow!' The mechanic of the borough town, who sees him dashing throughthe streets in an open landau, drawn by four milk-white horses, amidstits attendant out-riders; his wife, a monster of a woman, by his side,stout as the wife of Tamerlane, who weighed twenty stone, and bedizenedout like her whose person shone with the jewels of plundered Persia,stares with silent wonder, and at last exclaims: 'That's the man for myvote!' You tell the clown that the man of the mansion has contributedenormously to corrupt the rural innocence of England; you point to anincipient branch railroad, from around which the accents of Gomorrah aresounding, and beg him to listen for a moment and then close his ears.Hodge scratches his head and says: 'Well, I have nothing to say to that;all I know is that he is bang up, and I wish I were he'; perhaps he willadd--a Hodge has been known to add--'He has been kind enough to put myson on that very railroad; 'tis true the company is somewhat queer, andthe work rather killing; but he gets there half-a-crown a day, whereasfrom the farmers he would only get eighteenpence.' You remind themechanic that the man in the landau has been the ruin of thousands, andyou mention people whom he himself knows, people in various grades oflife, widows and orphans amongst them, whose little all he hasdissipated, and whom he has reduced to beggary by inducing them to becomesharers in his delusive schemes. But the mechanic says: 'Well the morefools they to let themselves be robbed. But I don't call that kind ofthing robbery, I merely call it out-witting; and everybody in this freecountry has a right to outwit others if he can. What a turn-out he has!'One was once heard to add, 'I never saw a more genteel-looking man in allmy life except one, and that was a gentleman's walley, who was much likehim. It is true he is rather undersized, but then madam, you know, makesup for all.'