The Caxtons: A Family Picture — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century; Families -- Fiction
My Dear Son,--I prefer my old acquaintances Thucydides and
Pisistratus to Thoukudides and Peisistratos. Horace is familiar to
me, but Horatius is only known to me as Cocles. Pisistratus can
play at trap-ball; but I find no authority in pure Greek to allow
me to suppose that that game was known to Peisistratos. I should
be too happy to send you a drachma or so, but I have no coins in my
possession current at Athens at the time when Pisistratus was spelt
Peisistratos.--Your affectionate father,
A. CAXTON.
Verily, here indeed was the first practical embarrassment produced
by that melancholy anachronism which my father had so prophetically
deplored. However, nothing like experience to prove the value of
compromise in this world. Peisistratos continued to write exercises, and
a second letter from Pisistratus was followed by the trap-bat.
CHAPTER II.
I was somewhere about sixteen when, on going home for the holidays, I
found my mother’s brother settled among the household Lares. Uncle
Jack, as he was familiarly called, was a light-hearted, plausible,
enthusiastic, talkative fellow, who had spent three small fortunes in
trying to make a large one.
Uncle Jack was a great speculator; but in all his speculations he
never affected to think of himself,--it was always the good of his
fellow-creatures that he had at heart, and in this ungrateful world
fellow-creatures are not to be relied upon! On coming of age, he
inherited L6,000, from his maternal grandfather. It seemed to him then
that his fellow-creatures were sadly imposed upon by their tailors.
Those ninth parts of humanity notoriously eked out their fractional
existence by asking nine times too much for the clothing which
civilization, and perhaps a change of climate, render more necessary to
us than to our predecessors, the Picts. Out of pure philanthropy, Uncle
Jack started a “Grand National Benevolent Clothing Company,” which
undertook to supply the public with inexpressibles of the best Saxon
cloth at 7s. 6d. a pair; coats, superfine, L1 18s.; and waistcoats at
so much per dozen,--they were all to be worked off by steam. Thus
the rascally tailors were to be put down, humanity clad, and the
philanthropists rewarded (but that was a secondary consideration) with a
clear return of thirty per cent. In spite of the evident charitableness
of this Christian design, and the irrefragable calculations upon
which it was based, this company died a victim to the ignorance and
unthankfulness of our fellow-creatures; and all that remained of Jack’s
L6,000, was a fifty-fourth share in a small steam-engine, a large
assortment of ready-made pantaloons, and the liabilities of the
directors.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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