American literature -- Humor; American wit and humor
These elegant Pendennises we saw at Mrs. Potiphar's, but not without a
sadness which can hardly be explained. They had been boys once, all of
them, fresh and frank-hearted, and full of a noble ambition. They had
read and pondered the histories of great men; how they resolved, and
struggled, and achieved. In the pure portraiture of genius, they had
loved and honored noble women, and each young heart was sworn to truth
and the service of beauty. Those feelings were chivalric and fair. Those
boyish instincts clung to whatever was lovely, and rejected the specious
snare, however graceful and elegant. They sailed, new knights, upon that
old and endless crusade against hypocrisy and the devil, and they were
lost in the luxury of Corinth, nor longer seek the difficult shores
beyond. A present smile was worth a future laurel. The ease of the
moment was worth immortal tranquillity. They renounced the stern
worship of the unknown God, and acknowledged the deities of Athens. But
the seal of their shame is their own smile at their early dreams, and
the high hopes of their boyhood, their sneering infidelity of
simplicity, their skepticism of motives and of men. Youths, whose
younger years were fervid with the resolution to strike and win, to
deserve, at least, a gentle remembrance, if not a dazzling fame, are
content to eat, and drink, and sleep well; to go to the opera and all
the balls; to be known as "gentlemanly," and "aristocratic," and
"dangerous," and "elegant"; to cherish a luxurious and enervating
indolence, and to "succeed," upon the cheap reputation of having been
"fast" in Paris. The end of such men is evident enough from the
beginning. They are snuffed out by a "great match," and become an
appendage to a rich woman; or they dwindle off into old _roues_, men of
the world in sad earnest, and not with elegant affectation, _blase_; and
as they began Arthur Pendennises, so they end the Major. But, believe
it, that old fossil heart is wrung sometimes by a mortal pang, as it
remembers those squandered opportunities and that lost life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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