"'So I have heard some people say before,' said Seithenyn;
'perverse people, blind to venerable antiquity: that very unamiable
sort of people, who are in the habit of indulging their reason. But
I say, the parts that are rotten give elasticity to those that are
sound: they give them elasticity, elasticity, elasticity. If it
were all sound, it would break by its own obstinate stiffness: the
soundness is checked by the rottenness, and the stiffness is
balanced by the elasticity. There is nothing so dangerous as
innovation. See the waves in the equinoctial storms, dashing and
clashing, roaring and pouring, spattering and battering, rattling
and battling against it. I would not be so presumptious as to say,
I could build anything that would stand against them half an hour;
and here this immortal old work, which God forbid the finger of
modern mason should bring into jeopardy, this immortal work has
stood for centuries, and will stand for centuries more, if we let
it alone. It is well: it works well: let well alone. Cupbearer,
fill. It was half rotten when I was born, and that is a conclusive
reason why it should be three parts rotten when I die.'"

Peacock's attitude towards women affords an example of the liberality
of his views and of his isolation. It shocked Victorian sentimentalists,
and would probably infuriate the more austere feminists of to-day. His
heroines, like all his characters, are roughly and extravagantly
sketched; what makes them peculiar is that they are sometimes almost
alive. Stupidity, ignorance, and incompetence, craven submissiveness or
insipid resignation, he did not commend in women: on the contrary,
intellect, wit, gaiety, spirit, and even a first in the Classical Tripos
seemed or would have seemed desirable and ladylike attributes to the
creator of Anthelia Melincourt and Morgana Gryll. What was called
"womanliness" in the forties displeased him; but he liked women to be
feminine, and knew that distinguished women have ever been distinguished
as women.

The truth is, Peacock had standards tested by which the current ideas of
almost any age would be found wanting. Without being a profound thinker,
he was one of those people who "bother about ends" to the extent of
being unwilling to approve of means unless they are satisfied that the
end in view is good--or at least that there is some end in view. With a