The Potiphar Papers

George William Curtis

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• Publié par: fawyong
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 45
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Potiphar
Papers, by George William Curtis
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Title: The Potiphar PapersAuthor: George William Curtis
Release Date: September, 2004 [EBook #6453]
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[Illustration: George William Curtis]
THE POTIPHAR PAPERS
BY
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS
[Illustration: ILLUSTRATED BY A. HOPPIN] "Imagination fondly stoops to trace
The parlor splendors of that festive place."
Goldsmith's Deserted Village.
"Manners are what vex or soothe, corrupt or
purify, exalt or debase, barbarise or refine us, by
a constant, steady, uniform, insensible operation,
like that of the air we breathe in."
Burke's First Letter on a Regicide Peace.
"And I do seriously approve of that saying of
yours, 'that you would rather be a civil, well-
governed, well-grounded, temperate, poor
angler, than a drunken lord.' But I hope there is
none such."
Walton's Angler.
"'Mon petit faquin de philosophé,' dit le Chevalier
de Grammont, 'tu fais ici le Caton de
Normandie.'"
"'Est-ce que je mens?' poursuivit Saint-Evremond."
Memoires de Grammont.PREFATORY LETTER TO REV.
CREAM CHEESE.
REV. AND DEAR SIR:
It is surely unnecessary to call the attention of so
astute an observer, and so austere a critic, as
yourself, to the fact that the title of the leading
essay in this little volume (of which, permit me to
say, you are so essential an ornament) is marked
as a quotation; and a quotation, as you will very
well remember, from the lips of our friend, Mrs,
Potiphar, herself.
Therefore, Rev. Sir, your judgment, which, you
must allow me to say, is no less impartial than your
experience is profound, will suggest to you that the
subject of that essay (of the points of which the
succeeding sketches are but elaborations) is the
aspect of what is currently termed "our best
society"—whether with reason or not, is beside the
purpose.
Your pastoral charity, I am convinced, will
persuade you to direct the attention of your
parishioners to this fact, and to assure them, that,
when you prepared your timely treatise upon the
progress of purple chasubles among the Feejee
islanders, you were not justly amenable to the
charge of omitting all notice of the cultivation of
artificial flowers by the Grim Tartars. The latter are,I believe, a very estimable people, but they were
not the subjects of your consideration.
To those in your parish, and elsewhere, who have
thought fit to suppose that Mrs. Potiphar is Mrs.
Somebody-else,—what can we say? conscious as
we are, that they who have once known that lady
could never confound her with another.
But for those who have actually supposed you,
yourself, Reverend Sir, to be, not somebody else,
but nobody, (!) we can only smile compassionately,
and express the hope that a broader experience
may give them greater wisdom.
In taking leave of you, Sir, I know that I express
the warmest wish of a large, a very large parish
(might almost say, diocese) that you may long
survive. For your parish is fully, and, as I think,
most correctly persuaded, that while there is a
Cream Cheese, there will always be a Mrs.
Potiphar.
With all proper regard,
I am,
Reverend and Dear Sir,
Your very obedient,
humble servant,
THE EDITOR.NEW YORK, December, 1853.I.
"OUR BEST SOCIETY."
If gilt were only gold, or sugar-candy common
sense, what a fine thing our society would be! If to
lavish money upon objets de vertu, to wear the
most costly dresses, and always to have them cut
in the height of the fashion; to build houses thirty
feet broad, as if they were palaces; to furnish them
with all the luxurious devices of Parisian genius; to
give superb banquets; at which your guests laugh,
and which make you miserable; to drive a fine
carriage and ape the European liveries, and crests,
and coats-of-arms; to resent the friendly advances
of your baker's wife, and the lady of your butcher,
(you being yourself a cobbler's daughter); to talk
much of the "old families" and of your aristocratic
foreign friends; to despise labour; to prate of "good
society;" to travesty and parody, in every
conceivable way, a society which we know only in
books and by the superficial observation of foreign
travel, which arises out of a social organization
entirely unknown to us, and which is opposed to
our fundamental and essential principles; if all this
were fine, what a prodigiously fine society would
ours be!
This occurred to us upon lately receiving a card of
invitation to a brilliant ball. We were quietly
ruminating over our evening fire, with Disraeli'sWellington speech, "all tears," in our hands, with
the account of a great man's burial, and a little
man's triumph across the channel. So many great
men gone, we mused, and such great crises
impending! This democratic movement in Europe;
Kossuth—and Mazzini waiting for the moment to
give the word; the Russian bear watchfully sucking
his paws; the Napoleonic empire redivivus; Cuba,
and annexation, and slavery; California and
Australia, and the consequent considerations of
political economy; dear me! exclaimed we, putting
on a fresh hodful of coal, we must look a little into
the state of parties.
As we put down the coal-scuttle there was a knock
at the door. We said, "come in," and in came a
neat Alhambra-watered envelope, containing the
announcement that the queen of fashion was "at
home" that evening week. Later in the evening
came a friend to smoke a cigar. The card was lying
upon the table, and he read it with eagerness.
"You'll go, of course," said he, "for you will meet all
the 'best society.'"
Shall we, truly? Shall we really see the "best
society of the city," the picked flower of its genius,
character, and beauty? What makes the "best
society" of men and women? The noblest
specimens of each, of course. The men who mould
the time, who refresh our faith in heroism and
virtue, who make Plato and Zeno, and
Shakespeare, and all Shakespeare's gentlemen,
possible, again. The women, whose beauty, and
sweetness, and dignity, and high accomplishment,