CHAPTER 1
RICHARD the Grandfather of our Hero, was ennobled by James the First. He married a lovely Girl of the ancient Family of the Goodalls in the County of Surry, and, at Seven Years Distance had two Sons, Richard and Henry; but dying early, in the Reign of Charles the First, he bequeathed £12000 to his youngest, and near £20000 annual Income to his eldest Son; not in any personal Preference to his Brother, but as one who was to support the Name and Honours of the Family. He appointed his Brother in Law Executor and Guardian, who, educating the Children agreeable to their different Fortunes and Prospects in Life, in about Seven Years after the Death of their Father, sent Richard with a Tutor to take the Tour of Europe, and bound Henry Apprentice to a considerable London Merchant.
During the Travels of the One and the Apprenticeship of the Other, the Troubles happened, and Cromwell assum'd the Regency; before the Fortune of the Morelands could be forfeited or endangered, by siding with the Crown or the Commonwealth.
Richard return'd to England a short time before the Restoration; and being too gay and too dissolute for the Plodding and Hypocrisy of Cromwell and his Fanatics, he withdrew to the Mansion House of his Forefathers.
On his Landing he had inquired for his Brother Henry; but hearing that he was lately married, and wholly absorbed in Matters of Merchandise, as he had the utmost Contempt for all Cits and Traders, he took no further Notice of him.
In the Country, he amused himself with his Bottle, Hounds, Hawks, Race Horses, &c. and in debauching the Persons of the neighbouring Wenches, and corrupting the Morals of the Neighbouring Squires. But, on the Restoration of his Majesty, of pleasurable Memory, he hastened to Court, where he rolled away and shone as in his native Sphere. He was always of the Party of the King, Rochester, &c. where Virtue was laughed out of Countenance, and where all Manner of Dissoluteness became amiable and recommendable by the Bursts of Merriment and Zest of Wit. But toward the latter End of this droll Reign, Earl Richard, being advanced in Age, and being still older in Constitution than Years, began to think of providing an Heir to his Estate; and, as he had taken vast Pains to impair it, he married a Citizen's Daughter who wanted a Title, and with her got a Portion of one hundred thousand Pounds, which was equally wanting on his Part.
With his Lady he, again, retreated to the Country, where, in less than a Year, she made him the exulting Father of a fine Boy; whom he called Richard.
Richard, speedily, became the sole Centre of all his Mother's Solicitudes and Affections. And though, within the Space of the two succeeding Years, she was delivered of a second Boy, yet, as his infant Aspect was less promising and more unformed than his Brother's, she sent him forth to be nursed by the robust Wife of a neighbouring Farmer, where, for the Space of upward of four Years, he was honoured with no Token from Father or Mother, save some casual Messages, to know from time to time if the Child was in Health.
This Boy was called Henry, after his Uncle by the Father's Side. The Earl had lately sent, to London, to make Enquiry after his Brother, but could learn no Manner of Tidings concerning him.
Meanwhile, the Education of the two Children was extremely contrasted. Richard, who was already entitled my little Lord, was not permitted to breathe the Rudeness of the Wind. On his lightest Indisposition the whole House was in Alarms; his Passions had full Scope in all their infant Irregularities; his Genius was put into a Hot Bed, by the Warmth of Applauses given to every Flight of his opening Fancy; and the whole Family conspired, from the Highest to the Lowest, to the Ruin of promising Talents and a benevolent Heart.
Young Harry, on the other Hand, had every Member as well as Feature exposed to all Weathers, would run about, Mother-naked for near an Hour, in a frosty Morning; was neither physicked into Delicacy, nor flattered into Pride; scarce felt the Convenience, and, much less understood the Vanity of Clothing; and was daily occupied, in playing and wrestling with the Pigs and two mongrel Spaniels on the Dunghil; or in kissing, scratching, or boxing with the Children of the Village.
When Harry had passed his fifth Year, his Father, on a festival Day, humbly proposed to send for him to his Nurses, in order to observe how the Boy might turn out, and my Lady, in a Fit of good Humour, assented. Nurse, accordingly, deck'd him out in his holiday Petticoats, and walked with our Hero to the great House, as they called it.
A brilliant Concourse of the neighbouring Gentry were met in a vast Parlour, that appeared to be executed after the Model of Westminster Hall.
There was Sir Christopher Cloudy, who knew much but said nothing; with his very conversable Lady, who scarce knew by halves, but spoke by wholesale. In the same Range was Sir Standish Stately, who in all Companies held the first Place, in his own Esteem. Next to him sat Lady Childish; it was at least thirty Years since those Follies might have become her which appeared so very ridiculous at the Age of fifty-five. By her Side were the two Stiltons, a blind Man would swear that the One was a Clown, and the Other a Gentleman, by the Tones of their Voices. Next to these were two Pair of very ill mated Turtles; Mr. Gentle, who sacrificed his fine Sense and affluent Fortune to the Vanity and bad Temper of a silly and turbulent Wife; and Squire Sulky, a brutal Fool, who tyrannized over the most sensible and most amiable of her Sex.
On the opposite Side was Lord Prim, who evidently labour'd hard to be easy in Conversation; and next to him was Lord Flippant who spoke Nonsense with great facility. By his Side sat the fair but dejected Miss Willow, she had lately discovered what a Misfortune it was to be born to Wit, Beauty, and Affluence, the three capital Qualifications that lead the Sex to Calamity. Next to her was Colonel Jolly, with a Heart ever tuned to Merriment and Lungs to Laughter; had he known how to time his Fits, the Laugh might have grown catching. Below him was seated Mrs. Mirror a Widow Lady, industriously accomplished in the Faults of People of Fashion. And below her sat the beloved and respected Mr. Meekly, who always sought to hide behind the Merits of the Company. Next to him was Major Settle, no one spoke with more Importance on things of no Signification. And beside him sat Miss Lovely, who looked Sentiment, and, while she was silent, inspired others with Sense and Virtue.
These were the principal Characters. The Rest could not be said to be of any Character at all. The Cloth had been lately removed, and a Host of Glasses and Decanters glow'd on the Table, when in comes young Harry escorted by his Nurse.
All the Eyes of the Company were, instantly, drawn upon him, but he advanced, with a vacant and unobserving Physiognomy, and thought no higher of the Assembly than as of so many Peasants at a Country Wake.
Dicky, my Dear, says my Lady, go and welcome your Brother, whereat Dick went up, took Harry by the Hand, and kissed him with much Affection. Harry thereupon having eyed his Brother, I don't know You, said he, bluntly, but, at the same time held up his little Mouth to kiss him again.
Dick, says my Lady, put your laced Hat upon Harry, till we see how it becomes him, which he immediately did; but Harry, feeling an unusual Encumbrance on his Head, took off the Hat, and having for some time looked contemptuously at it, he cast it from him with a sudden and agile Jerk, as he used to cast flat Stones, in order to make Ducks and Drakes in the Mill Pond. The Hat took the Glasles and Decanters in full Carrier, smash go the Glasses, abroad pours the Wine on circling Laces, Dresden Aprons, silver'd Silks, and rich Brocades; female Screams fill the Parlour, the Rout is equal to the Uproar, and it was long ere most of them could be composed to their Places.
In the meanwhile, Harry took no kind of Interest in their Outcries or Distresses, but spying a large Spanish Pointer that, just then came from under the Table, he sprung at him like Lightning, seized him by the Collar, and vaulted on his Back with inconceivable Agility. The Dog, wholly disconcerted by so unaccustomed a Burden, capered and plunged about in a violent Manner, but Harry was a better Horseman than to be so easily dismounted; whereon the Dog grew outrageous, and rushing into a Group of little Misses and Masters, the Children of the Visitants, he overthrew them like Ninepins; thence proceeding, with equal Rapidity, between the Legs of Mrs. Dowdy, a very fat and elderly Lady, she instantly fell backward with a violent Shriek, and, in her Fall, unfortunately overthrew Frank the Foxhunter, who overthrew Andrew the Angler, who overthrew Bob the Beau, who closed the Catastrophe.
Our Hero, mean Time, was happily dismounted by the intercepting Petticoats, and fairly laid, without Damage, in the fallen Lady's Lap. From thence he arose at his Leisure, and strolled about the Room, with as unconcerned an Aspect as if nothing had happen'd amiss, and as tho' he had neither Act nor Part in this frightful Discomfiture.
When Matters were once more, in some Measure set to Rights, my Heavens! exclaimed my Lady, I shall faint, the Boy is positively an Idiot, he has no Apprehension Conception of Persons or Things. Come hither, Sirrah, she cried with an angry Tone; but, instead of complying, Harry cast on her a Look of Resentment and sidled over toward his Nurse. Dicky, my Dear, said my Lady, go and pretend to beat his Foster Mother, that we may try if the Child has any kind of Ideas. Here, her Ladyship, by ill Fortune, was as much unadvised, as her Favourite was unhappy in the Execution of her Orders, for while Dick struck at the Nurse with a counterfeited Passion, Harry, instantly, reddened, and gave his Brother such a sudden. Pash in the Face, that his Nose and Mouth gushed out with Blood. Dick set up the Roar, my Lady screamed out, and rising and running at Harry with all imaginable Fury, she caught him up, as a Falcon would truss a Robin; turned over his Petticoats, and chastised him with all the Violence of which her Delicacy was capable. Our Hero, however, neither uttered Cry or Tear, but, being set down, he turned round on the Company an Eye of Indignation, then cried, come away, Mammy, and issued from the Assembly.
Harry had scarce made his Exit when his Mother exclaimed after him, Ay, ay, take him away Nurse, take him away, the little Devil, and never let me see his Face more.
I shall not detain my Readers with a tedious Detail of the many and differing Opinions that the remaining Company expressed with regard to our Hero; let it suffice to observe that they generally agreed that, tho' the Boy did not appear to be endowed by Nature, with a single Faculty of the Animal rationale, he might, nevertheless, be rendered capable in Time, of many Places of very honourable and lucrative Employment.
Mr. Meekly, alone, though so gentle and complying at other Times, now presumed to dissent from the Sense of the Company. I rather hold, said he, that this Infant is the Promise of the greatest Philosopher and Hero that our Age is likely to produce. By refusing his Respect to those superficial Distinctions, which Fashion has inadequately substituted as Expressions of human Greatness, he approves himself the Philosopher; and, by the Quickness of his Feelings for injured Innocence, and his Boldness in defending those to whom his Heart is attached, he approves himself at once the Hero and the Man.
Harry had now remained six Months more with his Nurse, engaged in his customary Exercises and Occupations. He was already, by his Courage, his Strength, and Action, become tremendous to all the little Boys of the Village, they had all Things to fear from his sudden Resentment, but, nothing from his Memory or Recollection of a Wrong, and this also was imputed to his native Stupidity. The two mongrel Dogs were his inseparable Play-fellows, they were all tied together in the strictest Bonds of Friendship, and caressed each other with the most warm and unfeigned Affection.
On a Summer's Day as he strolled forth with these his faithful Attendants, and rambled into a Park whose Gate he saw open, he perceived in a little Copse that bordered on a Fishpond, a Stranger seated on a Bench of Turf. Harry drew near with his usual Intrepidity, till he observed that the Man had a reverend Beard that spread over his Breast, that he held something in his Hand on which he gazed with a fixed Attention, and that the Tears rolled down his Cheeks, without ceasing, and in Silence, except the half suppress'd Sobs that often broke from his Bosom. Harry stood, awhile, immoveable, his little Heart was affected, he approached the old Man with a gentle Reverence, and looking up in his Face, and seating himself by his Side, the Muscles of his Infant Aspect began to relax, and he wept and sob'd as fast as his Companion.
Friend.—Pray, who is this ancient Stranger? I have a great Curiosity to know. Is he necessary to your Story, is he to have any future Connection with the Child? How came he by the long Beard? Beards were not the Fashion in those Days. There must be some extraordinary Reason for it, if there is any Reason at all. Is his Story long, do you begin upon it directly? It is a great fault in Authors to hold their Readers in Suspense; our Curiosity grows languid; twenty to one it is vanished, before you begin to give it any Kind of Satisfaction. Who in the World is he, what Business has he here?
Author.—Sir, you see he is a Stranger; I have mentioned him as such. If he chooses to continue so, for some Time longer, I know of no right that I have to discover him. Perhaps I am the only Person breathing whom he has entrusted with the Secret of his Affairs; I am upon Honour not to betray him; you must pardon me—pray proceed.


CHAPTER 2
THE old Gentleman turned and gazed at the Child, as on some sudden Apparition. His Tears stopped. He returned the Picture, which he held, into his Bosom. And, lifting up his Eyes, Great Power, he cried, is this the One, of all the World, who has any Feelings for me? Is it this Babe, this Suckling, whom thou hast sent, to be a Partaker in my Griess, and the Sharer of my Afflictions? Welcome, then, my little Friend, said he, tenderly turning and caressing the Child, I will live the longer for thy Sake, and endeavour to repay the Tears thou hast shed in my Behalf.
The Language of true Love is understood by all Creatures, and was that of which Harry had, almost, the only Perception. He returned his Friend's Caresses with unaffected Ardour, and no Two could be more highly gratified in the Endearments of each Other.
What is your Name, my Dear? said the old Gentleman. Harry Clinton, Sir. Harry Clinton! repeated the Old Man, and started. And pray who is your Father? the Child, then looking tenderly at him, replied; I'll have you for a Father, if you please, Sir. The Stranger, then caught him up in his Arms, and passionately exclaim'd, You shall, you shall, my Darling, for the tenderest of Fathers, never to be torn asunder, till Death shall part us.
Then asking him where he lived, and Harry pointing to the Town before them, they both got up and went towards it. Our Hero was now again all Glee, all Action; he sprung from and to his Friend, and play'd and gambol'd about him, like a young Spaniel in a Morning, just loos'd from his Chain, and admitted to accompany his Master to the Field. As his two Dogs frisked about him, he would now mount upon One, then bound upon t'other, and each pranced and paraded under him as delighted with the Burden. The old Gentleman beheld all with a Pleasure that had long been a Stranger to his Breast, and shared in the Joys of his young Associate.
Being arrived near the Farm House, Nurse, who stood at the Door, saw them approaching, and cried out, Gaffer, Gaffer, here comes our Harry with the dumb Gentleman. When they were come up. Good People, says the Stranger, is this your Child! no, no, Sir, answered the Nurse, we are but his Fosterers. And, pray, who is his Father? He is second Son, Sir, to the Earl of Moreland. The Earl of Moreland! you amaze me greatly, is this all the Notice and Care they take of such a Treasure? Sir, replied the Nurse, they never sent for him but once; they don't mind him, they take him for a Fool. For a Fool? cried he, and shook his Head in Token of Dissent. I am sure he has the wisest of all human Hearts. I wish it may beso, Sir, said the Nurse, but he behaved very sadly, some Time ago, at the great House. She then made a Recital of all our young Hero's Adventures in the Mansion-Parlour; whereat the old Gentleman inwardly chuckled, and, for the first Time, of some Years, permitted his Features to relax into a Smile of Cheerfulness.
Nurse, said he, everything that I hear and see of this Child serves the more to endear and bind me to him. Pray, be so good as to accompany us to my House, we will try to equip him better both as to Person and Understanding.
As this Stranger's Seat made Part of the Village, they were soon there. He first whispered his old Domestic, who, then, looked upon the Child with Surprise and Pleasure. The Footman was next sent to bring the Taylor, and some light Stuffs from the Town Shop. Matters being thus dispatched, with respect to our Hero's first Coat and Britches, Nurse was kept to Dinner; and after this Gentleman had entertained his young Guest with a Variety of little Tricks, childish Plays, and other-Fooleries; toward Evening, he dismissed him and his Nurse, with a Request that she would send him every Day, and a Promise that he should be returned every Night if she desired it.
Harry, being thus furnished with the external Tokens of a Man Child, having been born into the World, became an inseparable Friend and Play-fellow to his Patron. At Times of Relaxation, the old Gentleman, with the most winning and insinuating Address, endeavoured to open his Mind and cultivate his Morals, by a thousand little Fables, such as of bold Sparrows, and naughty Kids, that were carried away by the Hawk, or devoured by the Wolf, and of good Robbins, and innocent Lambs, that the very Hawks and Wolves, themselves, were fond of. For he never proposed any Encouragement or Reward to the Heart of our Hero, save that of the Love and Approbation of Others. At the Times of such Instruction, Harry, who knew no other Dependence, and beheld his Patron as his Father and as his God, would hang upon his Knee, look up to his Face, delighted, and greedily imbibe the Sweetness of those Lessons whose Impressions neither Age, nor any Occurrence, could ever after erase; so prevalent are the Dictates of Lips that are beloved.
At other Times, the Stranger would enter, with our Hero, into all his little Frolics and childish Vagaries, would run and wrestle with him, ride the Rods, roll down the Slope, and never felt such sweet Sensations and inward Delight, as when he was engaged in such Recreations.
There was a Cock at Harry's Nurses, the Lord of the Dunghill, between whom and our Hero a very particular Intimacy and Friendship had been contracted. Harry's Hand was his daily Caterer; and Dick, for the Cock was so called, would hop into the Child's Lap and pick his Clothes, and rub his Feathers against him, and court Harry to tickle and stroke and play with him.
Upon a Shrove-Tuesday, while Harry was on his Road, from his Patron's, intending a short Visit to his Nurse and Foster Father, a Lad came to their Door and offer'd Gaffer a double Price for Dick; the Bargain was quickly made, the Lad bore off his Prize in Triumph, and Gaffer withdrew to the manuring of a back Field. Just at that Crisis Harry came up, and enquired of the Maid for his Daddy and Mammy, but was answered that neither of them was within. He then asked after his favourite Cock, but was told that his Daddy had, that Minute, sold him to yonder Man who was almost out of Sight.
Away sprung our Hero, like an Arrow from a Bow, and held the Man in View till he saw him enter a great Crowd, at the upper end of the Street. Up he comes, at last, quite out of Breath, and making way through the Assembly, perceived his Cock, at some Distance, tied to a short Stake, and a Lad preparing to throw at him with a Stick. Forward he rushed, again, and stopped resolutely before his Bird, toward the Blow with his own Person, at the Instant that the Stick had taken its Flight, and that all the People cry'd out, hold! hold! One End of the Stick took Harry in the left Shoulder, and bruised him sorely; but, not regarding that, he instantly stooped, delivered his captive Favourite, whipt him under his Arm, caught up the Stick, flourish'd it, as in Defiance of all Opponents, made Homeward thro' the Crowd, and was followed by the Acclamations of the whole Assembly.
The old Gentleman was standing before his Court Door when his Favourite arrived, all in a Sweat; what's the Matter, my Dear, says he, what made you put yourself into such a Heat? what Cock is that you have under your Arm? In answer to these several Questions Harry ingenuously confessed the whole Affair. And, when his Patron with some Warmth, cried, why, my Love, did you venture your Life for a silly Cock? why did I? repeated the Child, why Sir, because he loved me. The Stranger, then, stepping back and gazing upon him with Eyes of tender Admiration; may Heaven for ever bless thee, my little Angel, he exclaimed, and continue to utter from thy Lips the Sentiments that it Inspires. Then, catching him up in his Arms, he bathed him with his Tears, and almost, stifled him with his Caresses.
In a few Days, our Hero was again restored, by frequent Fomentations, to the Use of his Arm; and his Dada, as he called him, and he returned to their old Recreations.
As Harry's Ideas began to open and expand, he grew ambitious of greater Power and Knowledge. He wished for the Strength of that Bull, and for the Swiftness of yonder Horse. And, on the Close of a solemn and serene Summer's Evening, while he and his Patron walked in the Garden, he wished for Wings that he might fly up and see what the Sky, and the Stars, and the rising Moon were made of.
In order to reform this Inordinacy of his Desires, his Patron addressed him in the following Manner.
I will tell you a Story, my Harry. On the other Side of yonder Hill there runs a mighty clear River, and in that River, on a Time, there lived three silver Trouts, the prettiest little Fishes that anyone ever saw. Now God took a great liking and love to these pretty silver Trouts, and he let them want for nothing that such little Fishes could have occasion for. But two of them grew sad and discontented; and the One wished for this Thing, and the Other wished for that Thing, and neither of them could take Pleasure in any Thing that they had, because they were always longing for something that they had not.
Now, Harry, you must know that all this was very naughty in those two little Trouts; for God had been exceedingly kind to them; he had given them everything that was fittest for them; and he never grudged them any Thing that was for their Good; but instead of thanking him for all his Care and his Kindness, they blamed him, in their own Minds, for refusing them any Thing that their silly Fancies were set upon. In short there was no End of their wishing, and longing, and quarrelling, in their Hearts, for this Thing and t'other.
At last, God was so provoked, that he resolved to punish their Naughtiness by granting their Desires, and to make the Folly of those two little stubborn Trouts an Example to all the foolish Fish in the whole World.
For this Purpose, he called out to the three little silver Trouts, and told them they should have whatever they wished for.
Now, the Eldest of these Trouts was a very proud little Fish, and wanted, forsooth, to be set up above all other little Fishes. May it please your Greatness, says he, I must be free to tell you that I do not, at all, like the Way in which you have placed me. Here you have put me into a poor, narrow, and troublesome River, where I am straitened on the right Side, and straitened on the left Side and can neither get down into the Ground, nor up into the Air, nor go where, nor do anyone Thing I have a mind to. I am not so blind, for all, but that I can see, well enough, how mighty kind and bountiful you can be to Others. There are your favourite little Birds, who fly this Way and that Way, and mount up to the very Heavens; and do whatever they please, and have everything at Command, because you have given them Wings. Give me such Wings, also, as you have given to them, and then I will have something for which I ought to thank you.
No sooner ask than have. He felt the Wings he wished for growing from either Side, and, in a Minute, he spread them abroad, and rose out of the Water. At first he felt a wonderful Pleasure in finding himself able to fly. He mounted high into the Air, above the very Clouds, and he looked down with Scorn on all the Fishes in the World.
He now resolved to travel, and to take his Diversion far and wide. He flew over Rivers, and Meadows, and Woods, and Mountains; till, growing faint with Hunger and Thirst, his Wings began to fail him, and he thought it best to come down to get some Refreshment.
The little Fool did not consider that he was now in a strange Country, and many a Mile from the sweet River, where he was born and bred, and had received all his Nourishment. So, when he came down, he happened to alight among dry Sands and Rocks, where there was not a Bit to eat, nor a Drop of Water to drink; and so there he lay faint and tired, and unable to rise, gasping, and fluttering, and beating himself against the Stones, till at length he died in great Pain and Misery.
Now, the second silver Trout, though he was not so high minded as the first little proud Trout, yet he did not want for Conceit enough, and he was moreover a narrow hearted and very selfish little Trout, and, provided he himself was snug and safe, he did not care what became of all the Fishes in the World. So he says to God:
May it please your Honour. I don't wish, not I, for Wings to fly out of the Water, and to ramble into strange Places, where I don't know what may become of me. I lived contented and happy enough, till the other Day, when, as I got under a cool Bank from the Heat of the Sun, I saw a great Rope coming down into the Water, and it fastened itself, I don't know how, about the Gills of a little Fish that was basking beside me, and he was lifted out of the Water, struggling and working in great Pain, till he was carried, I know not where, quite out of my Sight. So, I thought in my own Mind, that this Evil, some Time or other, may happen to myself, and my Heart trembled within me, and I have been very sad and discontented ever since. Now, all I desire of you, is, that you would tell me the Meaning of this, and of all the other Dangers to which you have subjected us poor little mortal Fishes; for then I shall have Sense enough to take care of my own Safety, and I am very well able to provide for my own Living, I warrant you.
No sooner said than done. God immediately opened his Understanding; and he knew the Nature and Meaning of Snares, Nets, Hooks, and Lines, and of all the Dangers to which such little Trouts could be liable.
At first he greatly rejoiced in this his Knowledge; and he said to himself, now surely I shall be the happiest of all Fishes; for, as I understand and am forewarned of every Mischief that can come near me, I'm sure I love myself too well not to keep out of Harm's way.
From this Time forward, he took Care not to go into any deep Holes, for fear that a Pike, or some other huge Fish might be there, who would make nothing of swallowing him up at one Gulph. He also kept away from the shallow Places, especially in hot Weather, left the Sun should dry them up and not leave him Water enough to swim in. When he saw the Shadow of a Cloud coming and moving upon the River, a ha! said he to himself, here are the Fishermen with their Nets, and immediately he got on one Side and skulked under the Banks, where he kept trembling in his Skin, till the Cloud was past. Again when he saw a Fly skimming on the Water, or a Worm coming down the Stream, he did not dare to bite, however hungry he might be; no no, said he to them, my honest Friends, I am not such a Fool as that comes to neither; go your ways and tempt those who know no better, who are not aware that you may serve as Baits to some treacherous Hook, that lies hid for the Destruction of those ignorant and silly Trouts that are not on their Guard.
Thus, this over careful Trout kept himself in continual Frights and Alarms, and could neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep in Peace, lest some Mischief should be at Hand, or that he might be taken napping. He daily grew poorer, and poorer, and sadder, and sadder, for he pined away with Hunger, and sigh'd himself to Skin and Bone; till, wasted almost to nothing with Care and Melancholy, he at last died, for fear of dying, the most miserable of all Deaths.
Now, when God came to the youngest silver Trout, and asked him what he wished for. Alas (said this darling little Trout) you know, may it please your Worship, that I am but a very foolish and good for nothing little Fish; and I don't know, not I, what is good for me or what is bad for me; and I wonder how I came to be worth bringing into the World, or what you could see in me to take any thought about me. But, if I must wish for something, it is that you would do with me whatsoever you think best; and that I should be pleased to live, or die, even just as you would have me.
Now, as soon as this precious Trout made this Prayer in his good and his humble little Heart, God took such a Liking and a Love to him, as the like was never known. And God found it in his own Heart, that he could not but take great Care of this sweet little Trout, who had trusted himself so wholly to his Love and good Pleasure, and God went wheresoever he went, and was always with him and about him, and was to him as a Father and Friend and Companion; and he put Contentment into his Mind and Joy into his Heart; and so this little Trout slept always in Peace, and wakened in Gladness; and whether he was full or hungry, or whatever happened to him, he was still pleas'd and thankful; and he was the happiest of all Fishes that ever swam in any Water.
Harry at the Close of this Fable, looked down and grew thoughtful, and his Patron left him to himself to ruminate on what he had heard Now, Harry had often heard talk of God, and had some general though confused Notions of his Power.
The next Day, he requested his Patron to repeat the Story of the Three little silver Trouts. When he had ended, Dada, says Harry, I believe I begin to guess a little at what you mean. You wouldn't have me wish for any Thing, but leave everything to God; and, if I thought that God loved me, half as well as you love, me, I would leave everything to himself, like the good little Trout. He does, my Harry, he loves you a thousand Times better than I love you, nay a thousand Times better than you love yourself. God is all Love; it is he who made everything, and he loves everything that he has made. Ay, but Dada, I can't, for the Heart of me help pitying the two poor little naughty Trouts. If God loves everything, why did he make any Thing to dye? You begin to think too deeply, Harry; we will speak more of these Matters another Time. For the present, let it suffice to know that, as he can kill, he can also make alive, again, at his own Pleasure.
Harry had now remained about twelve Months with his Patron, when it was intimated to the Earl and his Lady that the dumb Man had taken a Fancy to their Child, and, that he was almost constantly, resident at his House. Alarmed at this News, and apprehending that this Man might be some Impostor or Kidnapper, they, once more, sent Orders to the Nurse to bring the Boy home.
Nurse run in a Hurry to the Stranger's, and, having informed him of the Necessity she was under to take away the Child, many mutual Tears were shed at Parting; but Harry was the sooner pacified when Nurse told him that it was but for a short Visit, as before.
When they came to the Castle, there was no Company in the Parlour, but the Earl and his Lady, with Lord Richard and some other Masters of Quality, about his Age and Size. Harry, however looked about with a Brow of Disgust; and, when my Lady desired him to come and kiss her, maybe you'll whip me, he answer'd sullenly; No, she replied, if you don't strike your Brother Dicky anymore. I won't beat him, says Harry, if he won't beat Mammy. Come then and kiss me, my Dear, said my Lady, whereon Harry advanced with a slow Caution, and held up his little Mouth to receive her Salute. He was then kiss'd by his Father, his Brother, and the little Masters, and all Things promised future Reconcilement and Amity.
A Number of glittering Toys were then presented to Harry on all Sides; he received them, indeed, in good Part, but laid them all aside again as Things of whose Use he yet was not wise enough to be apprehensive.
Friend.
Is it not too early for your Hero to shew a Contempt of Toys?
Author.
My Lady, as you will see, imputed it to his Folly, not to his Philosophy.
Fr.
But Children have a natural Fondness for fine Things.
Aut.
How so, is there a natural Value in them?
Fr.
No. But—
Aut.
Education, indeed, has made the Fondness next to natural. The Coral and Bells, teach Infants, on the Breast, to be delighted with Sound and Glitter. Has the Child of an Inhabitant of Monomotapa a natural Fondness for Garbage?
Fr.
I think not.
Aut.
But, when he is instructed to prize them, and sees that it is the Fashion to be adorned with such Things, he prefers them to the Glister of Gold and Pearl. Tell me, was it the Folly, or Philosophy, of the Cock in the Fable, that spurned the Diamond and wished for the Barley Corn?
Fr.
The Moral says it was his Folly, that did not know how to make a right Estimate of Things.
Aut.
A wiser Moral would say it was his Philosophy, that did know how to make a right Estimate of Things; for, of what Use could the Diamond be to the Cock? In the Age of Acorns, antecedent to Ceres and the royal Ploughman Triptolemus, a single Barley Corn had been of more Value, to Mankind, than all the Diamonds that glowed in the Mines of India.
Fr.
You see, however, that Age, Reflection, and Philosophy can hardly wean People from their early Fondness for Shew.
Aut.
I see, on the contrary, that the older they grow, and the wiser they think themselves, the more they become attached to Trifles. What would you think of a sage Minister of State, who should make it the utmost Height of his Wishes and Ambition to be mounted on a Hobbyhorse?
Fr.
You can't be serious, for the Soul of you.
Aut.
It has been seriously, and truly, and literally the Fact. For, Haman being asked, by the greatest Monarch upon Earth, what should be done most desirable for the Man whom the King delighted to Honour? He answered (in the Persuasion that he himself was the Person) Let the royal Apparel be brought and let him be arrayed therewith, and let him be put upon the Horse that the King useth to ride, and let him be brought through the Street, and have it proclaimed before him, thus shall it be done to the Man whom the King delighteth to Honour. What shall we say here? could the sage and ambitious Haman think of nothing better than what would have suited the request of a Child of five Years old? Or was it that the Emperor of Asia, or this World itself, had nothing more valuable to bestow than a fine Coat and a Hobbyhorse?
Fr.
How many Volumes do you expect this Work will contain?
Aut.
Sir, a Book may be compared to the Life of your Neighbour. If it be good, it cannot last too long; if bad, you cannot get rid of it too early.
Fr.
But, how long, I say, do you propose to make your Story?
Aut.
My good Friend, the Reader may make it as short as he pleases.


CHAPTER 3
MY Lady piqued thereat, told the Earl that she resolved, once more to prove the Wits of the Youngster in Britches; and whispering to Dicky, he immediately went out and took with him his Companions. Soon after, Dick returns without his Shoes, but with a pitiful Face, and cries, Brother Harry honey, I want a Pair of Shoes sadly, will you give me Your's? Yes, I will, said Harry, and instantly strips and presents them to him. Then entered another Boy and demanded his Stockings, in the like petitioning manner; another beg'd his Hat, another his Coat, another his Waistcoat, all of which he bestow'd without Hesitation. But, when the last Boy came in and petitioned for his Shirt; no, I won't, said Harry, a little moody, I want a Shirt myself. My Lady then exclaimed, upon my Conscience, there is but the Thickness of a bit of Linen between this Child and a down right Fool. But my Lord rose up, took Harry in his Arms, and having tenderly embraced him, God bless thee, my Boy, he cried, and make thee an Honour to old England.
Dinner, soon after, was ordered up, and Harry permitted his Nurse to retire peaceably to the Kitchen, during the Interval, as he and all the Masters were then on Terms of Amity.
My Lady placed Harry, next herself, at Table, but no Peer ever payed such a Price at Pontac's, as our distressed Hero did that Day for his Ordinary. For he must sit up just so, and hold his Knife and Fork just so, and cut his Meat, and open his Mouth, and swallow his Victuals just so and so and so. And then, between every two Words, there was to be so many my Lords and my Ladies, and I thank you Sir, and I thank you Madam, and Master this and Master that, that poor Harry, no longer able to contain himself, cried, I wish I was with my Mammy in the Kitchen.
After Dinner the Children were set to Questions and Commands. But here, our Hero was beaten hollow, as he was afterward, at Draw Glove and Shuffle the Slipper. They next came to Hot Cockles, and Harry, being first down, had his left Hand well warm'd for near a Quarter of an Hour, till, more by good Luck than any good Policy, he fix'd upon a delicate little Gentleman, the Son and Heir of Lord and Lady Toilet, who lay down, accordingly; when Harry, endeavouring to sum all the Favours he had received in one Payment, gave Master such a Whirrick, that his Cries instantly sounded the ne plus ultra to such kind of Diversions. But Harry being chidden for his Rudeness and obliged to ask Pardon, all was soon whole again.
Now, throughout these several Amusements, though this Group of little Quality, behaved themselves with great good Manners towards our Hero, yet, as my Lady's Judgment of his Intellects became current thro' the Country, and that all took him to be little removed from a Natural; these small Gentry, also, held him in the lowest Contempt, and gave themselves secret Credit for the Decency of their Conduct in his Behalf.
Two or three of them, however, having maliciously contrived to set him in a ridiculous Light, prevailed upon his Brother to join in the Plot. They, accordingly, proposed a Play, wherein, Harry was enjoined to stand in the Centre, for so many Minutes, without Motion or Resentment let his Companions do what they would about him.
Our Hero, consequently, fixed himself to a Posture and Countenance altogether determined. The Attack instantly began. Some grinned, some pointed, some jeered and flouted at him, some twitched him by the Hair, some pinched him by the Breech, one tweaked him by the Nose, and another spirted Water full in his Face; but Harry bore all with the Firmness and Resignation of a Stoic Philosopher; till my Lady, quite impatient, cried out, did you ever see the like; such a Stock of a Child, such a Statue? why, he has no kind of Feeling, either of Body or Mind.
While she was pronouncing these Words, young Skinker, eldest Son to a wealthy 'Squire, a chubbed unlucky Boy, about the Age of Lord Richard, put one Hand within the other and desired Harry to strike thereon, which he did accordingly; but, feeling unusual Smart, and fired at the Treachery that he, justly, conceived was in the Case, Harry gave him such a sudden Fist in the Temple as drove him staggering backward, several Steps. Skinker, wholly enraged, and conscious of superior Strength, immediately returned, and with all his Might, gave Harry a Stroke on the Head, which Compliment he returned by a Punch in the Eye as rapid as Lightning. All the Boys stood aloof, and amazed at the Combat. My Lady, vehemently cried out to part them. But my Lord rose and, peremptorily, commanded fair Play. Meanwhile, young Skinker, wholly desperate to be foiled by one so much his Inferior in Strength and Understanding, flew on Harry like a Fury and fastened the Nails of both his Hands in his Face, from which Gripe our Hero as quickly disengaged himself, by darting his Head into the Nose and Mouth of his Adversary, who was instantly covered with Blood, though his Passion would not permit him to attend to the Pain; for, exerting his last Effort, he closed in on our little Champion, and determined, at once, to finish the Combat, by lifting and dashing him against the Ground; but Harry finding himself going, nimbly put one Foot behind and hit Skinker in the Ham, and, at the same time pushing forward, with all his Force, prone fell the unfortunate Skinker precipitated by the double Weight of himself and his Antagonist, and his Head rebounded against the Floor, while up sprung Harry, and with a rising Dunt in the Stomach, put a Period to the Fray.
All dismay'd, and, wholly discomforted, Skinker flowy arose, and began to puke and cry most piteously. His Companions then gathered about him, and, compassionating his Plight, turned an Eye of Indignation upon the Victor; all promiscuously exclaimed, O fie, Master Harry, I'm quite ashamed, Master Harry, you gave the first Blow; it was you that gave the first Blow, Master Harry; to all which Reproaches Harry, surly, replied, if I gave first Blow he gave first Hurt.
Come, come, said my Lord, there must be something more in this Affair than we are, yet, acquainted with. Come hither Master Skinker, tell me the Truth, my Dear, what was it you did to Harry that provoked him to strike you? Indeed, Sir, said Skinker, I did not intend to Hurt him so much. When I gave him one Hand to strike, I held a Pin, within side in the other, but the Pin run up further than I thought for. Go, go, said my Lord, you deserve what you have got. You are an ill-hearted Boy, and shall not come here to play anymore.
My Lady then called Harry, desired to look at his Hand, and found the Palm covered with Blood. This she washed away, and, having found the Wound, she put a small bit of Black sticking Silk to the Orifice, and Harry instantly held himself as sound a Man as ever.
It was then that, instead of exulting or crowing over his Adversary, he began to relax into Melancholy and Dejection, and sideling over toward Skinker, and, looking wistfully in his Face, if, said Harry, with a trembling Lip, if you will Kiss and Friends with me, I'll never beat you anymore. To this Overture Skinker was, with a sullen Reluctance, persuaded by his Companions. And, from that Moment, the Victor began to gain Ground in the Heart and good Graces both of Father and Mother.
Night now approached, the Candles were lighted up, and the Children took a short and slight Repast. Master Dicky then, privately whispering to his Mamma, desired her not to be frighted at what she might see, and immediately withdrew. In a short Time he return'd, and gathering all his little Companions into a Group, in the Centre of the Parlour, held them a while in Chat. When, O tremendous! a back Door flew open, and, in glided a most terrifying and horrible Apparition; the Body and Limbs, from the Neck downwards, were all wrapped in a winding Sheet; and the Head, tho' Fear could not attend to its Form, appeared wholly illuminated with Flames that glared thro' the Eyes, Mouth and Nostrils.
At Sight hereof, Master Dicky, appearing the first to be frighted, screamed out, and ran behind his Mamma's Chair, as it were for Protection; the Panic grew instantly contagious, and all this Host of little Gentry, who were, thereafter, to form our Senates, and to lead our Armies, ran, shrieking and shivering, to hide themselves in Holes and to tremble in Corners.
Our Hero, alone, stood undaunted, tho' concerned; and, like an Astronomer who, with equal Dread and Attention, contemplates some sudden Phenomenon in the Heavens, which he apprehends to be sent as an Ensign or Forerunner to the fall of mighty States, or dispeopling of Nations, so Harry with bent and apprehensive Brows, beheld and considered the approaching Spectre.
He had never heard nor formed any Idea of Ghosts of Hobgoblins, he therefore stood to deliberate what he had to fear from it. It still advanced upon him, nor had he yet budged. When his Brother cried out, from behind my Lady's Chair, beat it, Harry, beat it. On the instant, Harry flew back to the Corner, next the Hall, and catching up his Staff, the Trophy of Shrove Tuesday, he return'd upon the Spectre, and, aiming a noble Blow at the illuminated Sconce, he, at once, smash'd the outward Lantern; drove the Candle, Flame and all, into the Mouth of him who held it; and open'd his upper Lip from the Nose to the Teeth. Out spouted the Blood as from a Spiggot. The Ghost clapped all the Hands that he had to his Mouth, and slunk away to shew to his Friends in the Kitchen, how he had been baffled and mauled by an Infant of seven Summers.
Heav'n preserve us, cried my Lady, we shall have nothing but Broils and Bloodshed in the House while this Child is among us. Indeed, my Dear, replied the Earl, if there was any Thing more than mere Accident in this Business, it was the Fault of your Favourite Dicky, who desired the Boy to strike.
By this Time, the little Gentry came, all from their lurking Holes, though yet pale and unassured. And, whatever Contempt they might have for the Intellects of Harry, they had, now, a very sincere Veneration for his Prowess.
Bed Time now approaching, and all being again settled. Harry, says my Lord, you have been a very good Boy, to Day, and have joined with your Companions in all their little Plays. Now, if you have any Plays to shew them I am sure they will have the good Manners to do as you desire. What say you Harry, have you any Play to shew them? Yes, Sir, said Harry, I have a many of them; there's first, Leap Frog, and Thrush a Thrush. To it, then, Harry, says my Lord, and pray, all you little Gentlemen, do you observe his Directions.
No sooner said than done. Harry took his Companions, One by One, and, causing them to stoop, with their Heads toward the Ground in a long Line, and at certain Distances each before t'other, he returned to the Tail, and taking the Advantage of a short Run to quicken his Motion, he laid his Hands on the Rump of the Hindmost, and vaulting lightly over him, he, with amazing Rapidity, flew along the whole Line, clearing a Man, at ev'ry Motion, till he alighted before the Foremost, and down he popped in the Posture of those behind.
My Lady, in utter Astonishment, lifting up her Hands and Eyes, exclaim'd, O the fine Creature, O the graceful Creature! if there was but a Mind to match that Body, there would not be such another Boy in the Universe.
Lord Richard, being now hindmost, was the next who adventured, and, with Action enough, clear'd his two first Men; but then having lost the Advantage of his Run, and, his Foreman being of more than ordinary Size; he first stuck upon his Rump, and, pitching thence, broke his Forehead against the Floor. He got up however with a pleasant Countenance, and, running alongside the Line, set himself in his former Posture before his Brother. The Hindmost then, and then the next, and the next, and so onward, took their Turns, in Succession, without any better Success. The one bruised his Shoulder, another sprained his Finger, another bumped his Head, another broke his Nose, &c. &c. So that, in less than five Minutes, my Lady had got an Hospital of her own, though not altogether consisting of Incurables.
Now, Spirits, and Vinegar, brown Paper, black Plaister, &c. were called for in a Hurry, and, the several Stupes and Dressings being skilfully applied, the Children were ordered to their respective Beds, and Nurse was prevailed upon to continue with Harry, till he shou'd be reconciled to his new Friends and Associates.
Now Harry was become a Favourite, especially among the Servants who, in a manner; adored him, since the Adventure of the Box and the Hobgoblin.
Friend.
Hobgoblin. — In good Time — Nothing amazes me, so much, as the terrifying Apprehensions that the World, from the Beginning, has universally entertained of Ghosts and Spectres.
Author.
Do you fear them?
Fr.
No — I can't say — not much — something of this formerly. I should not like, even now, to lie alone, in a remote Chamber of a ruinous Castle said to be haunted, and have my Curtains, at Midnight, opened suddenly upon me by a Death's-head and Bloody-bones. All Nonsense, I know it; the early Prejudices of a dastardly Fancy — I fear, while I am convinced there is nothing to be feared. — Do you think there is any such Thing in Nature as a Spirit?
Aut.
I know not that there is any such Thing, in Nature, as Matter.
Fr.
Not know there is any such Thing as Matter? — You love to puzzle — to throw lets into the Road of common Sense. — What else do you know? from what else can you form any kind of Idea?
Aut.
The Room is warm enough, more Heat is needless. — I know that Thoughts and Conceptions are raised in my Mind; but, how they are raised, or that they are adequate Images of Things supposed to be represented, I know not. What if this Something, or this Nothing, called Matter, should be a Shadow, a Vacuum, in respect of Spirit, wholly resistless to it and pervadeable by it? Or, what if it be no other than a various Manifestation of the several good and evil Qualities of Spirit? If one infinite Spirit, as is said, fills the Universe, all other Existence must be but as the Space wherein he essentially abides and exists; indeed, they could not be produced, or continued for a Moment, but by his existing omnipotently, indivisibly, entirely, in and throughout every Part.
Fr.
This is new, very new — but I will not batter my Brains against your Castle. — According to your Thesis, when a Man is apprehensive of a Spirit or Spectre, it is not of Shadows but of Substances that he is afraid.
Aut.
Certainly; his principal Apprehension arises from his believing it more sufficient, more powerful, and more formidable than himself.
Fr.
Excuse me, there are more tremendous Reasons. On the Supposition of an Engagement, those Sort of invisible Gentry have many Advantages over us. They give a Man no manner of fair Play. They have you here, and have you there, and your best Watch and Ward is no better than fencing against an invisible Flail. — But, seriously, do you think we have any innate Fears of these Matters?
Aut.
All our Fears arise from the Sense of our own Weakness, and of the Power and Inclination that Others may have to hurt us.
Fr.
If our Horror of Apparitions is not innate, how comes it to pass, that Soldiers, that general Officers, who dare all other Danger, that Heroes who, like Brutus, have given Death to themselves, or who have been led to Execution without a changing Cheek, have yet dreaded to lie alone, or to be left in the dark?
Aut.
We all see that a Spirit has vast Power. Nothing else in Truth can have any Power at all. We perceive, by ourselves and others, with what Ease it can act upon what we call Matter; how it moves, how it lifts it. Perhaps, were our Spirits detached from this distempered Prison, to which the Degeneracy of our fallen Nature has confined them, they might more easily whirl a Mountain through the Atmosphere, than they can now cast a Pebble into the Air. The Consideration of this Power, when joined to Malevolence, as is generally the Case, becomes very tremendous. The Stories told by Nurses and Gossips about a Winter's Fire, when the young Auditors crouch closer and closer together, and dare not look about for fear of what may be behind them, leave Impressions that no subsequent Reason or Religion can efface. The Ideas of an Apparition, on these Occasions, are connected with all the Horrors, of which infant Imaginations can be susceptible; Fangs, Horns, a threatening Mien, saucer Eyes, a flaming Breath, and a deadly Aspect. When Children are told of Fairies, who carry off People to dwell with them under Ground, and of evil Spirits who snatch away Soul and Body, together, to be their Associates in Regions of Darkness, and Woe, the Fear of such Evils greatly surpasses those of Death, as it weds Misery to Existence beyond the Grave. — On the contrary Side. Had Spirits been originally represented to Infants as Beings of an amiable Appearance, and as Guardians benevolent and beneficent to Man; had they further deigned to visit us under such Representations, and, had we experienced the Advantage of their Instructions and good Offices, we should have met them with Transport, and have parted with Regret.
Fr.
I observe that, as our female Antiquarians drop off, our Faith in Spectres perceptibly decays. We have not the fiftieth Story either propagated or believed, that was credited as Gospel when I was a Boy. What think you, is it for, or against Religion, that such Fables should get footing among Mankind?
Aut.
I never could think it for the Interest of Religion that the Providence of God should be elbowed, as it were, quite out of the World by a System of Demonism. On the other Hand, I take the Devil to be a Personage of much more Prudence than to frighten his Favourites from him by assuming such horrid and disgustful Appearances. He rather chooses to lurk behind Temptation, in the Allurement of Beauty, the Deceitfulness of Smiles, the Glozing of Compliments, in Revel and Banqueting, in Titles and Honours, in the Glitter of Ornament, and in the Pomp of State. When God sends his Spirits on Messages to Man, there is a Meaning of Importance in the Errand. Such was that of his Angel to Manoah for the Delivery of a People; and to Zacharias and the blessed Virgin for the Redemption of Humankind. But, when the Devil is said to send his Emissaries throughout the Earth, on what Errands does this Arch-Politician employ them? Even such as could suit no other than a Dunce or a Driveller. I never yet heard of one of these Missions that could be construed to any Intention of Cunning or common Sense. I therefore hold the Legends of his ghostly Visitation to be altogether apocryphal.
Fr.
Every Man of common Sense must be of the same Opinion. And yet, have you known any Person wholly free from such Prejudices, who made no Distinction, on this fantastical Article, between Darkness and Mid-Day, between a lonely Charnel House and a full Assembly?
Aut.
I have; but they were Men of exceeding strong Nerves; as also of exceedingly clear or exceedingly callous Consciences, which, coming from opposite Points, equally met for the same Purpose on this Occasion.
Two Travellers, the One a Man of Piety, the Other a Profligate, met at a Country Inn just as Night came upon them. It was Halontide-Eve, the Season, in those Days, wherein the Devils were said to keep high Carnival, and when all the Inhabitants of the visionary Regions were supposed to revel and range throughout the Earth at Pleasure.
For want of better Company our Travellers made up an Acquaintance, and further cemented it by a Jugg of good Liquor. The Night was dark. The Girls of the House had new wash'd their Smocks, to be hung to the Fire, and turn'd by the ghostly Resemblances of their Sweethearts; and the Conversation, in the Kitchen, ran on many an authentic Narrative of Spectres, and, particularly, on the Man in Gibbets who hung by the Road, and who was reported, between Twelve and One at Midnight, to descend from the Gallows, and take just three turns about the old Barn.
Do you believe any of this droll Stuff, said the Profligate. I know not what to think, answered his pious Companion, I find all the World in the same Story, and yet, as the saying is, I never saw any Thing more frightful than myself. As for my Share, said the Profligate, I think I shouldn't fear the great Devil himself; and indeed I should be glad to have a little Chat with the old Gentleman. Stout as you are, rejoined his Companion, I will lay you a Bet of five Crowns that you dare not warm a Porringer of Broth, and go, and offer it, without there, to the Man in Gibbets, I will depend on your Honour for Performance of Articles. 'Tis done, cried the other; the Betts were produced, and respectively deposited in the Hands of my Landlady.
Our pious Traveller, who now began to be alarmed for his Wager, stole slyly out, while his Companion was busied in heating the Broth. He made up to the Place where the deceased Malefactor was taking the fresh Air. The Gallows was low, and, by the Advantage of a Bank behind and his own Agility, he leaped up and fastened his Arms about the Shoulders of the Corpse, so that they both appeared but as one Body.
He had just fixed himself to his Mind, when, up comes his Companion with the Porringer and a Stool. He directly mounted the Stool, and, reaching up a spoonful of Broth to the Mouth of the Dead, with a firm and bold Voice he cried, Sup Man! why don't you Sup?
Scarce had these Words been uttered, when, fearful to hear! with a Tone deep as Hell and dismal as the Grave, the Man in Gibbets replied—It i—is too ho—ot. And damn you, why don't you blow it then? rejoined the other.
Fr.
My Nerves will not admit of this for Fact. The Tale indeed is good, though such an Instance of Intrepidity in any Mortal may be disputable. But, shall we never return to our Story again?
Aut.
It matters not how far we travel from it, since the Magic of a Wish can bring us back in a twinkling.


CHAPTER 4
RUFFLED Linen, laced Hat, Silk Stockings, &c. had now been ordered, for Harry, with a new Suit of Clothes, trim'd like those of your Beau-Insects, vulgarly called Butterflies. They were tried on, in the Presence of his Parents, and highly approved by all, except Harry himself, who seemed, by his Fidgetings, to be somewhat disgusted at this new Kind of Encumbrance. Harry, says my Lord, puts me in mind of the Son of Jesse in the Armour of Saul, he has not yet proved them. Well Harry, how do you like yourself? I don't know, not I, says Harry. But, Papa, can you tell me what these Things are for? In truth Harry, you pose me. Won't People love me better, Sir? not a whit indeed Harry, replied my Lord. L—d help that little Fool's Head of thine, interposed my Lady, if People won't love thee, they'll respect thee the more. Fool's Head! repeated my Lord, upon my Soul, the Child has more Sense than Half our Nobility.
Harry had been, now, near a Month with his Parents, and, as his Nurse had not yet parted, he was tolerably amenable to Quality Government. However, he pined in the Absence of his Dada, as he called him, and daily importuned my Lord and Lady to be permitted to go and see him. For, as Harry's Heart told him that his bearded Dada loved him better than all the World, so Harry loved him better than three Worlds; for, he was ever desirous of going three Times as far, in Affection and good Offices, as anyone went for him.
At length, he obtained Consent, and was conducted, by his Nurse, in all his Finery, on a Visit to this dear Dada.
Their meeting was accompanied by Tears of Joy on both Sides; when the old Gentleman, struck with Concern at the Garb in which he saw his Darling, cried out, and who, my Dear, put this Fool's Coat upon my Child? Fool's Coat, Sir, says Harry; yes, my Love, it is worse than all that; they were very naughty Doctors who have endeavoured to poison my Boy. There is not a Bit, of all this Lace and Ruffling, that is not full of rank Poisons. I will tell you a Story my Harry.
There was, once upon a Time, a very good and a very clever Boy called Hercules. As he grew up, beside his Prayers and his Book, he was taught to run, and leap; to ride, wrestle, and cudgel; and tho' he was able to beat all the Boys in the Parish, he never used to hurt or quarrel with any of them. He did not matter Cold, nor Hunger, nor what he eat, nor what he drank; nor how, nor where he lay; and he went always dressed in the Skin of a wild Beast, that could bear all Winds and Weathers, and that he could put on or off at Pleasure, for he knew that his Dress was no Part of himself, and could neither add to him, nor take away any Thing from him.
When this brave Boy came to Man's Estate, he went about the World, doing Good in all Places; helping the Weak, and feeding the Hungry, and clothing the Naked, and comforting those that cried, and beating all those that did Hurt or Wrong to others; and all good People loved him with their whole Hearts, and all naughty People feared him terribly.
But, O sad and dismal! a Lady, whom he had saved from great Hurt and Shame, made him a Present of a new Coat, which was called a Shirt, in those Days, as they wore it next the Skin. And now, my Harry, take Notice. The Lady had covered this Coat, all over, with Laces, and with Rufflings, and with Beads of Glass, and such other Fooleries; so that poor Hercules, looked just as fine, as you do now. And he turned him to this Side, and he turned him to that Side, and he began to think more and better of himself, because he had got this Fool's Coat upon him. And the Poison of it entered into his Body and into his Mind, and brought Weakness and Distempers upon the one and the other. And he grew so fond of it that he could not bear to have it put off. For he thought that, to part with it, would be to part with his Flesh from his Bones. Neither would he venture out in the Rain, anymore; nor box nor wrestle with any Body, for fear of spoiling his fine Coat. So that in Time, he lost the Love and the Praises of every Body; and all People scorned him, and pointed at him for a Fool and a Coxcomb, as he went by.
For some Time, after the old Gentleman had finished his Story, the Child continued to gaze up at him, with fixed Eyes and open Mouth, as fearful of losing any Syllable that he might utter. 'Till, recollecting himself, he cried out, O, this is a very sad Case, indeed; I wish my Coat was burnt, so I do, but, don't fear for me Dada. Why, how then Harry? replied his Patron. Why, I may find a Trick for all this, Dada, I warrant, you never see me in this ugly Coat again.
After this and some other Instructions and mutual Endearments, Nurse press'd to be gone; and these two fond Friends were compelled to sunder, with a Promise, on Harry's Part, of a speedy Return.
For some Time after his Arrival at the Mansion House, Harry appeared thoughtful, and greatly dejected, which they ascribed to his parting with his old Friend; but Harry had Schemes in his Head that they were little able to fathom or guess at. Having peeped about, for some Time, he found a Knife, in a Window, which he instantly seized upon, and then, stole up with all possible Privacy, to his Apartment.
There he stripped himself, in a Hurry, and, falling as quickly to work, began to cut and rip and rend away the Lacings of his Suit, without sparing Cloth or Seam. While he was, thus, in the Heat and very Middle of his Business, he heard himself, repeatedly called on the Stairs, and hurrying on his Clothes, to obey the Summons, he ran down to the Parlour with Half the Trimmings hanging in Geometry, Fritters, and Tatters about him.
The droll, and very extraordinary Figure that he cut, struck all the Company into utter Amazement. Having gazed on him, for some Time, in a kind of silent Stupor. Why Harry, cries my Lady, what's all this for? who abused you, my Child, who put you in this Pickle? come hither and tell me, who spoiled your Clothes? I did, Madam. You did, Sirrah, cried my Lady, giving him a Shake, and how dare you spoil them? why, because they wanted to spoil me, said Harry. And who told you they would spoil you, Sirrah? I won't tell, said Harry. I'll lay a Wager, cried my Lady, it was that old Rogue with the Beard; but I'll have him whipt for a Fool and a Knave out of the Parish. Pray, my Dear, be patient a little, said his Lordship. Come here, Harry, and tell me the Truth, stoutly; and no Harm shall happen to you or your Dada with the Beard. Come, speak, what Fault did he find with your Clothes? Why, Sir, he said, as how they would poison me. Poison you, my Dear; pray how was that? Why, Sir, he told me as how there was a little Master, call'd Herclus, and as how he was a mighty good Boy, and was cold and hungry, and almost naked, and did not matter, so as how he could do Good to every Body; and as how every Body loved him with all their Heart. And then, he told me, as how he got a mighty fine Coat, and looked here, and looked there, and minded nothing but his Coat; and as how his Coat poison'd him, and would not let him do anymore Good, and as how all the Boys then hated him, and piss'd upon him, Sir — and as how — I believe, that's all, Sir —
Here, my Lord and Lady took such a Chink of Laughing, that it was some Time before they could recover; while Harry looked abashed and disconcerted. But my Lord, recollecting himself, took the Child on his Knee, and, warmly pressing him to his Bosom, I must tell you, my Harry, said he, as how you are a mighty good Boy, and as how your Dada with a Beard is a mighty good Dada, and has told you all that is right and true. And, that I will go, myself, one of these Days, and thank him in Person. Thank you, Sir, says Harry.
Well, Harry, said my Lord, I promise that no one shall poison you anymore, with my Consent. Whereupon another new Suit was immediately appointed, of a Kind that should fear no Weather, nor, in case of Dirt or Damage, draw upon Harry the Resentment or Admonitions of his Mama.
Just as Dinner was served up, Mr. Meekly entered and took his Seat. He came in order to conciliate a late Difference between the Earl and Sir Standish Stately; and in this he found no manner of Difficulty, as my Lord was, by Nature, of a kindly Disposition, and required no more than a first Advance to be reconciled to any Man.
During the Entertainment, Harry kept his Eyes fixed on Mr. Meekly; and, as soon as the Cloth was off, he rose, went over to him, looked fondly in his Face, and took hold of his Hand with the Familiarity of an old Acquaintance.
Mr. Meekly, said my Lord, my Son Harry pays you a very particular and very deserved Compliment; he puts me in mind of that Sort of Instinct, by which a strange Dog is always sure to discover, and to apply to the most benevolent Person at Table. Indeed, my Lord, said Mr. Meekly, (caressing the Child) I know not, whether by Instinct, or by what other name to call my own Feelings; but certain it is that, the first Moment I saw him, in his little peasant Petticoats, I found my Heart strongly affected toward him.
In a short Time my Lady retired, with the Children, and left the Earl and Mr. Meekly over a temperate Bottle. Mr. Meekly, said my Lord, (taking him cordially by the Hand) I rejoice at the Advantage of our late Acquaintance, or rather I repine that it was not earlier. I am greatly interested, Sir, in asking you a few Questions, if I thought I might do it without Offence. Are you any way straitened in your Circumstances? — No, my Lord, — But, would you not wish them more affluent, would you not wish that your Power of doing Good were more extensive, more answerable to the Benevolence of your own Inclinations? — I cannot say that I would, my Lord. I have upward of seven Hundred a Year clear Income; and that is fourteen Times more than I have Occasion to expend. — It would be indelicate, replied the Earl, very indelicate to own that I am sorry for your Prosperity; and yet I feel that I should have been happy in your Distress, in the Power it would have given me to serve, to oblige you. I want a Friend, I want just such a Friend as Mr. Meekly, and I know of no Price at which I would not gladly purchase him. — My Lord, I am yours, freely, affectionately yours, without Fee or Condition. Sir, rejoined my Lord, as I find that I cannot make out a Title to your particular Attachment, I am content to be taken into the general Circle of your Benevolence.
The World, Mr. Meekly, think me the happiest of Men; bless'd in my Family, in my Friends; with Health, Honours, Affluence; with the Power of gratifying every Wish that human Fancy can form! but alas! my Sensations are very far from affirming their Judgment of these Matters; and I will deserve your Advice, your Consolation, if you can afford it, by unbosoming myself to you without reserve.
When I reflect on my past Life, I look on many Parts of it with Repentance, and on the Whole with Regret. Not that I wish the return of Pleasures that I now despise, or of Years spent in a Manner that Virtue and common Sense must equally disapprove? but I am arrived at my Evening of Life, like a Sportsman who, having been in pursuit of Game all the Day, returns homeward, sorrowful, fatigued, and disappointed. With every Advantage that could gratify either my Vanity or my Appetites, I cannot affirm that I ever tasted of true Enjoyment; and I now well perceive that I was kept from being miserable, merely by Amusement and Dissipation.
As I had the Misfortune to be born to Title and a vast Estate, all People respected, in me, the Possession of those Objects which they themselves were in pursuit of. I was consequently beset with Sycophants and Deceivers of all Sorts, and thereby, trained from my Infancy, to unavoidable Prejudices, Errors, and false Estimates of everything. I was not naturally ill-disposed, but I was perpetually seduced from all my better Tendencies.
Both my Parents died, before I arrived at those Years wherein our Laws allow of any Title to Discretion. I had but the one Brother, O that dear Brother, how many Sighs he has cost me! I was older than him by about seven Years, and this disparity of our Age, together with the elevating Notion of my Birth right, gave me the authoritative Airs of a Father, without a Father's Tenderness toward him. This mutually prevented that Cordiality, that Sympathy, as I may say, by which Brothers should be cemented during their Minority. And, when our Guardian, as I then judged, had so far betrayed his Trust, as to bind my Brother apprentice to a Trader, and thereby to deprive him of all Title to Gentility. I looked upon him as a Branch cut off from the Family-Tree, and, as my Thoughts about him were accompanied by Coldness or Disgust, I forbore to make any Enquiry concerning him.
I am apt to think, however, that he was not equally unnatural on his Part; but, hearing of the dissolute Life I led on my return from Travel, he might justly deem me unworthy of his Acquaintance or Notice.
During the Time of my Intimacy with his late Majesty and the Ministers of his Pleasures and Policy, a Servant brought me Word that a Gentleman, attended by a Number of the principal Citizens, waited for me in my Ante-chamber; whereupon I gave Orders for their immediate Introduction.
On their Entrance, I was awfully struck with the Presence of their Principal, with the Elegance of his Figure, the Nobleness of his Aspect, and Ease of his Address, and I felt myself drawn to him by a sudden Kind of instinctive Attachment.
My Lord, says he, we come to wait upon you in the Name of the very respectable Body of the Citizens of London; some Infringements have been lately made on their City-Charter, and their first Application is to your Lordship, as they wish, above all others, to be obliged to you for their Redress.
They have been very discreet, said I, in their choice of an Advocate. Their Demands must be exorbitant, if they fail of Success while you are their Solicitor.
This Paper, proceeded he, contains a clear Detail of their Rights and the Encroachments that have been made thereon. They are sensible of your Lordship's Interest with his Majesty and the Ministry, and they humbly petition for your Favour and happy Influence in their Behalf.
Without Papers, I replied, or any Inducement save that of your own Request, let me but know what I am to do, and I shall think myself truly honoured and obliged by your Commands.
My Lord, he rejoined, I do not wish to betray you into any mistaken or unmerited Complaisance. I am but a Trader, a Citizen of the lower Order.
I now felt myself blush with Shame and Disappointment; I resented my being deceived by the Dignity of his Appearance; and I was more particularly piqued by the sarcastic kind of Smile with which he closed his Declaration. All confused, I looked down, and pretended to cast my Eye over the Paper, in order to gain Time for Recollection. Having, at Intervals, muttered a few Words, such as Charters, Grants, Privileges, Immunities, and so forth. I am not, said I, an Enemy to the lower Ranks of Men; poor People must live, and their Service, as well as Subordination is necessary to Society; but I confess I was always fond of those sumptuary Laws that confined the Degrees of Men to their respective Departments, and prevented Mechanics from confounding themselves with Gentlemen.
My Lord, says he, with the most easy and provoking Unconcern, when you shall be pleased to look down from the Superiority of your Station, and to consider Things and Persons according to their Merits, you will not despise Some, merely for being of use to Others. The Wealth, Prosperity, and Importance of all this World is founded and erected on three living Pillars, the TILLER of the Ground, the MANUFACTURER and the MERCHANT. Of these, the Tiller is supposed to be the least respectable, as he requires the least of Genius, Invention, or Address; and yet the Ploughman Triptolemus was worshipped as a God; and the Ploughman Cincinnatus is still held in as high Esteem as any Peer of any Realm, save that of Great-Britain.
I have known, said I, a Mob of such Gods and Dictators somewhat dangerous at Times. I must be free to tell you, Mister, that Matters are much changed since Princesses kept Sheep, and the Sons of Kings were Cow-herds. The Ranks and Orders of Men are now appointed and known, and one Department must not presume to break in upon the other. My Baker, Barber, Brewer, Butcher, Hatter, Hosier, and Taylor, are, unquestionably, of Use, though I have not the Honour of being acquainted with one of them. And, hitherto, I have deemed it sufficient to send my Servants to entertain and pay them their Bills, without admitting them to a Tete a Tete, as at present.
He now rejoined, with a little Warmth. My Lord, we pardon your Indelicacy, in consideration of your Error. The venerable Body, now present, might be admitted to a Tete a Tete with the first Estate of this Kingdom, without any Condescension on the Part of Majesty. And, would you allow yourself to be duly informed, I should soon make you sensible that we have actually done you the Honour which we intended by this Visit.
Permit me to repeat that the Wealth, Prosperity, and Importance of everything upon Earth arises from the TILLER, the MANUFACTURER and the MERCHANT; and that, as nothing is truly estimable, save in Proportion to its utility, these are, consequently, very far from being contemptible Characters. The Tiller supplies the Manufacturer, the Manufacturer supplies the Merchant, and the Merchant supplies the World with all its Wealth. It is thus that Industry is promoted, Arts invented and improved, Commerce extended, Superfluities mutually vended, Wants mutually supplied, that each Man becomes a useful Member of Society, that Societies become further of Advantage to each other, and that States are enabled to pay and dignify their upper Servants with Titles, rich Revenues, Principalities and Crowns.
The Merchant, above all, is extensive, considerable, and respectable by his Occupation. It is he who furnishes every Comfort, Convenience, and Elegance of Life; who carries off every Redundance, who fills up every Want; who ties Country to Country, and Clime to Clime, and brings the remotest Regions to Neighbourhood and Converse; who makes Man to be literally the Lord of the Creation, and gives him an Interest in whatever is done upon Earth; who furnishes to each the Product of all Lands, and the Labours of all Nations; and thus knits into one Family and weaves into one Web the Affinity and Brotherhood of all Mankind.
I have no Quarrel, I cried, to the high and mighty my Lords the Merchants, if each could be humbly content with the Profits of his Profession, without forming themselves into Companies, exclusive of their Brethren, our itinerant Merchants and Pedlars. I confess myself an Enemy to the Monopolies of your charter'd Companies and City Corporations; and I can perceive no evil Consequence, to the Public or the State, if all such Associations were this Instant dissolved.
Permit me, he mildly replied, once for all, to set your Lordship right in this Matter. I am sensible that the Gentlemen of large landed Properties are apt to look upon themselves as the Pillars of the State, and to consider their Interests and the Interests of the Nation, as very little beholden or dependent on Trade; though the Fact is, that those very Gentlemen would lose nine Parts in ten of their yearly Returns, and the Nation nine Tenths of her yearly Revenues, if Industry and the Arts, (promoted as I said by Commerce) did not raise the Products of Lands to tenfold their natural Value. The Manufacturer, on the other Hand, depends on the landed Interest for nothing save the material of his Craft; and the Merchant is wholly independent of all Lands, or rather he is the general Patron thereof. I must further observe, to your Lordship, that this beneficent Profession is by no means confined to Individuals, as you would have it. Large Societies of Men, nay mighty Nations may and have been Merchants. When Societies incorporate, for such a worthy Purpose, they are formed as a Foetus within the Womb of the Mother, a Constitution within the general State or Constitution; their particular Laws and Regulations ought, always, to be conformable to those of the National System; and, in that Case, such Corporations greatly conduce to the Peace and good Order of Cities and large Towns, and to the general Power and Prosperity of the Nation.
A Nation that is a Merchant has no need of an Extent of Lands, as it can derive to itself Subsistence from all Parts of the Globe. Tyre was situated in a small Island on the Coast of Phoenicia, and yet that single City contained the most flourishing, opulent, and powerful Nation in the Universe; a Nation that long withstood the united Forces of the three first Monarchies, brought against her by Nebuchadnezzar and Alexander the Great.
The seven united Provinces do not contain Lands sufficient for the Subsistence of one Third of their Inhabitants; but they are a Nation of Merchants; the World furnishes them with an Abundance of all good Things; by Commerce they have arrived at Empire; they have assumed to themselves the Principality of the Ocean; and, by being Lords of the Ocean, are in a Measure become the Proprietors of all Lands.
Should England ever open her Eyes to her own Interests, she will follow the same prosperous and ennobling Profession; she will conform to the Consequences of her Situation. She will see that, without a Naval Pre-eminence, she cannot be safe; and, without Trade, that her Naval Power cannot be supported. Her Glory will also flow from this sure Source of her Interests, and a Sail-yard will become the highest Sceptre of her Dignity. She will then find that a single Triumph of her Flag will be more available, for her Prosperity, than the Conquest of the four Continents; that her Pre-eminence, by Sea, will carry and diffuse her Influence over all Lands; and, that universal Influence is universal Dominion.
Avarice, my Lord, may pile; Robbery may plunder; new Mines may be opened; hidden Treasures may be discovered; Gamesters may win Cash; Conquerors may win Kingdoms; but all such Means of acquiring Riches are transient and determinable. While Industry and Commerce are the natural, the living, the never failing Fountains, from whence the Wealth of this World can alone be taught to flow.
And can you, cried I, have the Effrontery, to insinuate a Preference, of yourself and your fellow Cits, to our British Nobles and Princes, who derive their Powers and Dignities from the steadfast Extent of their landed Possessions? Was it by Barter and Bargain that our Edwards and Henrys atchiev'd their Conquests on the Continent? or was it by Pedlars and Mechanics, think you, that the Fields of Cressi, of Poictiers, and Agincourt are render'd immortal? Go, I continued, seek elsewhere for Redress of your insignificant Grievances; we give little to sturdy Beggars, but nothing to saucy Rivals.
Wholly kindled by this Invective, he cast on me a fierce and menacing Regard; and, with a severe Accent, and a side Glance that shot Fire; when Courtiers (says he) acquire Common-Sense, and that Lords shall have learn'd to behave themselves like Gentlemen, I may do such a one the Honour to acknowledge him for a Brother.
Your Brother! exclaimed Mr. Meekly, your Brother, my Lord?—Yes, Mr. Meekly, my Brother, my amiable, my very amiable and honourable Brother, indeed. But, turning contemptuously from me, he instantly departed with his attending Citizens.
I ought to have followed, I ought to have staid him. I should have fallen upon his Neck. With my Tears and Caresses I should have wrung a Pardon from him, and not have suffer'd him to leave me till by my Submissions I had obtained full Forgiveness. This, indeed, was my first Emotion. But the Recollection of my long and unnatural Neglect, my utter Disregard of his Person and Concerns, now aggravated by my late Insults, persuaded me that a Reconciliation, on his Part, was impossible.
I remained disconcerted, and greatly disturbed I felt with what Pride and Transport I should now have acknowledged, have courted, have clasped this Brother to my Bosom; but my Fancy represented him as Ice in my Arms, as shrinking and turning from me with Disgust and Disdain. At Times, I formed a hundred Schemes toward recovering his Affections; but again, rejecting these as ineffectual, I endeavoured to console myself for his Loss, by considering his late Demeanour as exceeding faulty, and expressive of a Disposition insufferably proud and overbearing. My Heart, indeed, acknowledged how very lovely he was in his Person; but the Superiority of his Talents, and the Refinement of his Manners, gave him a Distinction that was not altogether so grateful.
All Day I kept my Apartment, in Displeasure, at my Brother, myself, and the World. The next Morning I was informed that, the Moment he left me, he went to the Minister, who engaged, at his Instance, to have every Grievance that he complained of redressed to their extent. That the Minister had, afterwards, introduced him to his Majesty in full Levee, that the King held him in long and familiar Conversation, and that all the Court was profuse of their Admiration and Praises of Mr. Clinton.
This, also, was fresh Matter of Triumph to him, and Mortification to me. It was now evident that my Brother's Application to me was intended, merely, to do me peculiar Honour; and, in Return, said I to myself, I have endeavoured to cover him with Confusion and Disgrace. Yet, when I understood that he had disdained to mention me as his Brother, or of his Blood; I also scorned to derive Lustre from any Claim of Affinity with him; and I further felt that I could not forgive him the Reproaches which he constrained me to give myself in his behalf.
From that Time, I took great Pains to dissipate or suppress those uneasy Sensations which the Remembrance of him gave me. But, after I had married and retired from the Glare and Bustle of the World; and, more particularly, on the Birth of my first Child, when my Heart had entered into a new Sphere of domestic Feelings, this dear Brother returned with double Weight upon my Mind. Yet his Idea was no longer accompanied by Envy or Resentment, but by an affectionate and sweet, though paining, Remorse.
I wrote him a Letter full of penitential Submissions, and of tender and atoning Prayers for Pardon and Reconcilement. But, alas, my Messenger returned with Tidings that, some Years past, he had withdrawn from Trade, had retired to France or Holland, had dropt all Correspondence, and that no one in England knew whether he was dead or alive.
Ah, my Brother, my dear Brother! (I would often repeat to myself) has any Reverse of Fortune happened to you, my Brother? Perhaps some domestic Calamity; some heavy Distress, no doubt! and no Brother at Hand to console or share your Afflictions. Return to me, divide my Heart, divide my Fortune with me and mine! Alas, Wretch that I am, you know not yet that you have a Brother, one deserving of that Name. You know not that this Bosom of Flint is now humanized, and melted down in the Fervour of Affection toward you. You hate me, you despise me, my amiable Brother! How, how shall I make you sensible that my Heart is full of your Image, of Esteem, of tenderest Love for my lovely Harry Clinton?
I, again, sent other Messengers in search of Intelligence, I procured Letters to the Bankers and Merchants of principal Note abroad; but all my Solicitudes and Enquiries were equally fruitless.
The Grief, that this occasioned, first taught me to reflect, and cast a Shade over the Lustre of every Object about me. The World no more appeared as that World which, formerly, had held out Happiness to either Hand. I no longer beheld it thro' the Perspectives of Curiosity or youthful Desire; I had worn out all its Gayeties; I had exhausted all its Delights, for me it had nothing more to promise, or bestow; and yet I saw no better Prospect, no other Resource.
Should I turn to Religion, a little Observation taught me that the Devotees, themselves, were warm in pursuit of Objects, of which I was tired; that they were still subject to the Passions and Desires of the World; and were no way to be distinguished from other Men, save by an unsociable Reserve, or gloomy Cast of Countenance.
May I venture to confess to you, Mr. Meekly, that, at Times of my Despondence, I dared to call the Justice and Wisdom of Omnipotence into question. Take this World, (said I to myself) consider it as it seems to stand, independent of any other, and no one living can assign a single End, or Purpose, for which it could be made. Men are even as their Fellow-Insects; they rise to Life, exert their Lineaments, and flutter abroad during the Summer of their little Season; then droop, die away, and are succeeded, and succeeded in an insignificant Rotation. Even the firmest human Establishments, the best labour'd Systems of Policy, can scarce boast a nobler Fate, or a longer Duration; the mightiest States and Nations perish, like Individuals; in one Leaf we read their History, we admire their Achievements, we are interested in their Successes, but, proceed to the next, and no more than a Name is left; the Ninevehs and Babylons of Asia are fallen, the Sparta and Athens of Greece are no more; and the Monuments that promised to endure to Eternity, are erased like the Mount of Sand which, Yesterday, the Children cast up on the Shore.
When I behold this stupendous Expanse, so sumptuously furnished with a Profusion of Planets, and Luminaries, revolving in appointed Courses, and diversifying the Seasons; I see a Work that is altogether worthy of a God. Again, when I descend to Earth, and look abroad upon the infinite Productions of Nature, upon Provisions so amply answering to the Wants of every living Being, and on Objects and Organs so finely fitted to each other, I trace a complicated Maze of Wisdom, Bounty, and Benevolence. But, when I see all these Beauties and Benefits counteracted by some adverse and destructive Principle; when the Heavens gather their Clouds and roll their Thunders above, and the Earth begins to quake and open beneath us; when the Air, that seemed so late to be the Breath and Balm of Life, grows pregnant with a Variety of Pests, Plagues and Poisons; when Life itself is found to be no other than the Store-house or Habitation of Death, and that all vegetable and animal Systems include within their Frame, the Principles of inevitable Distemper and Dissolution: When additional to all these natural Mischiefs, I consider the Extent and Empire of moral Evil upon Earth; when I behold the wretched perishable short lived Animal, called Man, for the Value of some Matter of Property as transient as himself, industrious and studious of the Destruction of his Species; when, not content with the Evils that Nature has entailed upon him, Man exerts all his Talents for multiplying and speeding the Means of Perdition to Man; when I see half the World employed in pushing the other Half from the Verge of Existence, and then dropping after in an endless Succession of Malevolence and Misery; I cannot possibly reconcile such Contrasts and Contradictions to the Agency, or even Permission, of the one over ruling Principle of Goodness called GOD.
Could not Omniscience foresee such Consequences, at Creation? Unquestionably, said Mr. Meekly.
Might he not have ordered Matters so, as to have prevented the Possibility of any Degree of natural or moral Evil in his Universe?—I think he might, my Lord.—Why did he not, then, prevent them? to what End could he permit such multiplied Malevolence and Misery among his Creatures?—For Ends, certainly my Lord, infinitely worthy both of his Wisdom and his Goodness.—I am desirous it should be so; but cannot conceive, cannot reach the Way or Means of compassing such an Intention.
Can you not suppose, said Mr. Meekly, that Evil may be admitted for accomplishing the greater and more abundant Good? May not partial and temporary Malevolence and Misery be finally productive of universal, durable, and unchangeable Beatitude? May not the Universe, even now, be in the Pangs of Travail, of Labour for such a Birth, such a blessed Consummation?
It were, rejoined the Earl, as our Shakespear says, it were indeed a Consummation devoutly to be wished. But, might not Omnipotence have brought about a Consummation equally good, without any Intervention of preceding Evil?—Had that been possible, my Lord, it would unquestionably have been effected. But if certain Relations arise between God and his Creatures, and between Man and Man which could not arise save on the previous Supposition of Evil, without which, indeed, neither the Attributes of God himself, nor the Insufficiency, Dependence, or Obligation of the Creature could have been duly discoverable throughout Eternity, then temporary Evil becomes indispensably necessary to the Consequence and Consummation of the greatest Good.
Your Notion, exclaimed the Earl, is great, amazing, truly glorious, and every Way worthy of a God who, in such a Case, would be infinitely worthy of all Worship! Is this the Reason, Mr. Meekly, that what we all so earnestly seek for is no where to be found, that no Portion or Taste of Happiness is to be had upon Earth?
I do not say so, my Lord; I think that a Man, even on Earth, may be occasionally, nay durably, and exceedingly happy.
What, happy? durably, exceedingly happy? repeated the Earl. I was told that the Experience of Ages, that Philosophy and even Divinity had agreed with Solomon in this, that all upon Earth was Vanity and Vexation of Spirit. If any may enjoy Happiness, on this Side of the great Consummation that you speak of, I am persuaded, Mr. Meekly, that you yourself are the Man. Your Lips indeed say nothing of the Matter, but neither your Eyes nor your Aspect can restrain the Expression of some extraordinary Peace that abides within. O, say then, my dear, my estimable Friend, whence, how, by what Means may a Man arrive at Happiness?—By getting out of himself, my Lord.
Out of himself, Mr. Meekly! you astonish me greatly. A Contradiction in Terms, unnatural, impossible!—God, himself, my Lord, cannot make a Man Happy in any other Way, either here, or hereafter.
It is, said the Earl, an established Maxim among all thinking Men, whether Divines or Philosophers, that SELF-LOVE is the Motive to all human Actions. Virtue forbid! exclaim'd Mr. Meekly; all Actions are justly held, good or evil, base or honourable, detestable or amiable, merely according to their Motives. But, if the Motive is the same to all, there is an End, at once, to the Possibility of Virtue; the Cruel and the Kind, the Faithful and the Perfidious, the Prostitute and the Patriot are confounded together.
Do not all Men, return'd the Earl, act agreeable to their own Propensities and Inclinations? do they not Act so or so, merely because it pleases them so to act? and is not this Pleasure the same Motive in all?—By no Means, my Lord, it never was nor can be the Motive in any. We must go a Question deeper, to discover the secret Principle or Spring of Action. One Man is pleased to do Good, another is pleased to do Evil; now, whence is it that each is pleased with Purposes in their Nature so opposite and irreconcilable? Because, my Lord, that the Propensities or Motives to Action, in each, are as opposite and irreconcilable as the Actions themselves; the one is prompted and therefore pleased with his Purpose of doing Evil to others, through some base Prospect of Interest redounding to himself; the other is prompted and spurred, and therefore pleased with his Purpose of endangering his Person or suffering in his Fortune, through the benevolent Prospect of the Good that shall thereby redound to Others.
Pleasure is, itself, an Effect, and cannot be the Cause, or Pinciple, or Motive to any Thing; it is an agreeable Sensation that arises, in any Animal, on its meeting or contemplating an Object that is suited to its Nature. As far as the Nature of such an Animal is evil, evil Objects can alone affect it with Pleasure; as far as the Nature of such an Animal is good, the Objects must be good whereby its Pleasures are excited.
When Damon was sentenced, by Dionysius of Syracuse, to die on such a Day; he pray'd Permission, in the Interim, to retire to his own Country, to set the Affairs of his disconsolate Family in order. This the Tyrant intended most peremptorily to refuse, by granting it, as he conceived, on the impossible Conditions of his procuring someone to remain, as Hostage for his Return, under equal Forfeiture of Life. Pythias heard the Conditions, and did not wait for an Application on the Part of Damon, he instantly offer'd himself to Durance in the Place of his Friend, and Damon was accordingly set at Liberty.
The King and all his Courtiers were astonished at this Action, as they could not account for it on any allowed Principles. Self-Interest, in their Judgment, was the sole Mover of human Affairs; and they looked on Virtue, Friendship, Benevolence, Love of Country, and the like, as Terms invented by the Wise to impose upon the Weak. They, therefore, imputed this Act of Pythias to the Extravagance of his Folly, to the Defect of Head, merely, and no way to any Virtue or good Quality of Heart.
When the Day of the destined Execution drew near, the Tyrant had the Curiosity to visit Pythias in his Dungeon. Having reproached him for the romantic Stupidity of his Conduct, and rallied him, some Time, on his Madness in presuming that Damon, by his Return, would prove as great a Fool as himself; my Lord, said Pythias, with a firm Voice and noble Aspect, I would it were possible that I might suffer a thousand Deaths, rather than my Friend should fail in any Article of his Honour. He cannot fail therein, my Lord. I am as confident of his Virtue as I am of my own Existence. But, I pray, I beseech the Gods to preserve the Life and Integrity of my Damon together. Oppose him, ye Winds! prevent the Eagerness and Impatience of his honourable Endeavours! and suffer him not to arrive till, by my Death, I have redeemed a Life, a thousand Times of more Consequence, more Estimation, than my own, more estimable to his lovely Wife, to his precious little Innocents, to his Friends, to his Country. O, leave me not to die the worst of Deaths in my Damon!
Dionysius was confounded and awed by the Dignity of these Sentiments, and by the Manner, (still more sentimental) in which they were uttered; he felt his Heart struck by a slight Sense of invading Truth, but it served rather to perplex than to undeceive him. He hesitated, he would have spoken, but he looked down, and retired in Silence.
The fatal Day arrived. Pythias was brought forth, and walked, amidst the Guard, with a serious but satisfied Air, to the Place of Execution.
Dionysius was already there. He was exalted on a moving Throne that was drawn by six white Horses, and sat pensive and attentive to the Demeanour of the Prisoner.
Pythias came. He vaulted lighty on the Scaffold; and, beholding for some Time the Apparatus of his Death, he turned with a pleased Countenance and addressed the Assembly.
My Prayers are hear'd, he cried, the Gods are propitious! You know, my Friends, that the Winds have been contrary till Yesterday. Damon could not come, he could not conquer Impossibilities; he will be here To-morrow, and the Blood which is shed to Day shall have ransomed the Life of my Friend. O, could I erase, from your Bosoms, every Doubt, every mean Suspicion of the Honour of the Man, for whom I am about to suffer; I should go to my Death, even as I would to my Bridal. Be it sufficient, in the mean Time, that my Friend will be found noble, that his Truth is unimpeachable, that he will speedily approve it, that he is now on his Way, hurrying on, accusing himself, the adverse Elements, and the Gods. But I haste to prevent his Speed; Executioner, to your Office!
As he pronounced the last Words, a Buzz began to arise among the remotest of the People. A distant Voice was heard. The Crowd caught the Words; and, stop, stop the Execution! was repeated by the whole Assembly.
A Man came at full Speed. The Throng gave way to his Approach. He was mounted on a Steed of Foam. In an Instant he was off his Horse, on the Scaffold, and held Pythias straightly embraced.
You are safe, he cried, you are safe, my Friend, my Beloved, the Gods be praised, you are safe! I now have nothing but Death to suffer, and I am delivered from the Anguish of those Reproaches which I gave myself, for having endangered a Life so much dearer than my own.
Pale, cold, and half Speechless in the Arms of his Damon, Pythias replied in broken Accents,—Fatal Haste!—cruel Impatience!—what envious Powers have wrought Impossibilities in your Favour?—But, I will not be wholly disappointed—Since I cannot die to save, I will not survive you.
Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all with Astonishment. His Heart was touch'd. His Eyes were opened; and he could no longer refuse his assent to Truths so incontestably approved by their Facts.
He descended from his Throne. He ascended the Scaffold. Live, live ye incomparable Pair! he exclaimed. Ye have borne unquestionable Testimony to the Existence of Virtue, and that Virtue equally evinces the Certainty of the Existence of a God to reward it. Live happy, live renowned! and, O, form me by your Precepts, as ye have invited me by your Example, to be worthy of the Participation of so sacred a Friendship.
YOU bring your Arguments quite home, Mr. Meekly, said the Earl; the Understanding cannot reject what the Heart so sensibly feels. My Soul deeply acknowledges the Existence of Virtue, with its essential and inherent Difference from Vice, and this Difference, I acknowledge, must as necessarily be founded in the Difference of the Principles from whence they proceed; but, what those Principles are I know not; and I am equally a Stranger to what you intend by a Man's getting out of himself in order to Happiness. What am I to understand by the Term SELF, Mr. Meekly.
Every Particle of Matter, my Lord, has a SELF or distinct Identity, inasmuch as it cannot be any other Particle of Matter. Now, while it continues in this its State of SELFISHNESS or absolute Distinction, it is utterly useless and insignificant, and is to the Universe as tho' it were not. It has however a Principle of Attraction (analogous or answerable to Desire in Mind) whereby it endeavours to derive to itself the Powers and Advantages of all other Portions of Matter. But when the DIVINE INTELLIGENCE hath harmonized certain Quantities of such distinct Particles into certain animal or vegetable Systems, this Principle of Attraction in each is overcome, for each becomes attracted and drawn as it were from SELF, each yields up its Powers to the Benefit of the Whole, and then, and then only, becomes capable and productive of Shape, Colouring, Beauty, Flowers, Fragrance, and Fruits.
Be pleased now to observe, my Lord, that this Operation in Matter is no other than a Manifestation of the like Process in Mind; and that no Soul was ever capable of any Degree of Virtue or Happiness save so far as it is drawn away, in its Affections, from SELF; save so far as it is engaged in wishing, contriving, endeavouring, promoting, and rejoicing in the Welfare and Happiness of others.
It is therefore that the Kingdom of Heaven is most aptly, and most beautifully, compared to a Tree bearing Fruit and diffusing Odours, whose Root is the PRINCIPLE of infinite Benevolence, and whose Braches are the blessed Members, receiving consummate Beatitude from the Act of Communication.
I think, indeed, said the Earl, that I can form some Sort of a Notion of such a Society in Heaven. But it would pose you, Mr. Meekly, to exemplify your Position from any Body of Men that ever were upon Earth.
Pray pardon me, my Lord, the States of Sparta and Rome, derived their Lustre and Power, their whole Pre-eminence and Praise, from this Principle of Communication, which, in them, was called Love of Country. But this beatifying Principle was still more eminently instanced in the Society of the Church of Jerusalem, who had all Things in common; who imparted their Possessions to all Men, as every Man had need; and, thence, did eat their common Bread with Gladness and Singleness of Heart, praising God, and having Favour with all People.
You say, my Lord, that you can form a Notion of some such Excellence in Heaven; but I can form no Notion of any Excellence more admirable, in Heaven itself, than when a Man, in his present State of frail and depraved Nature, overbears his personal Fears of Pain and Mortality, and yields up his Body to assured Perdition, for public Good, or for the sake of those whom it delighteth him to preserve.
I shall pass over the Instances of the Roman Regulus and the Decii, as also that of Leonidas and his three Hundred Spartans who devoted their Lives for the Liberties of Greece; was that Candidate less a Hero who, being rejected from being one of these Self-devoted, exclaimed, the Gods be praised that there are three Hundred, in Sparta, better Men than myself! But, I come nearer our own Times and our own Nation, to exemplify this Disregard of SELF, the vital Source and Principle of every Virtue, in six Mechanics or Craftsmen of the City of Calais.
Edward the Third, after the Battle of Cressy, laid Siege to Calais. He had fortified his Camp in so impregnable a Manner, that all the Efforts of France proved ineffectual to raise the Siege, or throw Succours into the City. The Citizens however, under the Conduct of Count Vienne their gallant Governor, made an admirable Defence. Day after Day the English effected many a Breach which they repeatedly expected to storm by Morning; but, when Morning appeared, they wonder'd to behold new Ramparts raised, nightly erected out of the Ruins which the Day had made.
France had now put the Sickle into her second Harvest since Edward with his victorious Army sat down before the Town. The Eyes of all Europe were intent on the Issue. The English made their Approaches and Attacks without Remission; but the Citizens were as obstinate in repelling all their Efforts.
At length, Famine did more for Edward than Arms. After the Citizens had devoured the lean Carcasses of their starved Cattle, they tore up old Foundations and Rubbish in search of Vermin. They fed on boiled Leather and the Weeds of exhausted Gardens, and a Morsel of damaged Corn was accounted Matter of Luxury.
In this Extremity they resolved to attempt the Enemy's Camp. They boldly sallied forth; the English joined Battle; and, after a long and desperate Engagement, Count Vienne was taken Prisoner; and the Citizens, who survived the Slaughter, retired within their Gates.
On the Captivity of the Governor, the Command devolved upon Eustace Saint Pierre, the Mayor of the Town, a Man of mean Birth but of exalted Virtue.
Eustace now found himself under the necessity of capitulating and offered to deliver, to Edward, the City, with all the Possessions and Wealth of the Inhabitants, provided he permitted them to depart with Life and Liberty.
As Edward had long since expected to ascend the Throne of France, he was exasperated, to the last Degree, against these People, whose sole Valour had defeated his warmest Hopes; he therefore determined to take an exemplary Revenge, though he wished to avoid the Imputation of Cruely. He answered, by Sir Walter Mauny, that they all deserved capital Punishment as obstinate Traitors to him, their true, and natural Sovereign. That, however, in his wonted Clemency, he consented to pardon the Bulk of the Plebeians, provided they would deliver up to him six of their principal Citizens, with Halters about their Necks, as Victims of due Atonement for that Spirit of Rebellion with which they had enflamed the vulgar Herd.
All the Remains of this desolate City were convened in the great Square, and, like Men arraign'd at a Tribunal from whence there was no Appeal, expected with beating Hearts the Sentence of their Conqueror.
When Sir Walter had declared his Message, Consternation and pale Dismay was impressed on every Face. Each looked upon Death as his own inevitable Lot; for, how should they desire to be saved at the Price proposed? whom had they to deliver save Parents, Brothers, Kindred, or valiant Neighbours who had so often exposed their Lives in their Defence? To a long and dead Silence deep Sighs and Groans succeeded; till Eustace St. Pierre, getting up to a little Eminence, thus addressed the Assembly.
My Friends, we are brought to great Straits this Day. We must either submit to the Terms of our cruel and ensnaring Conqueror; or yield up our tender Infants, our Wives, and chaste Daughters to the bloody and brutal Lusts of the violating Soldiery.
We well know what the Tyrant intends, by his specious Offers of Mercy. It will not satiate his Vengeance to make us merely miserable, he would also make us criminal, he would make us contemptible; he will grant us Life on no Condition save that of our being unworthy of it.
Look about you, my Friends, and fix your Eyes on the Persons, whom you wish to deliver up as the Victims of your own Safety. Which of these would ye appoint to the Rack, the Axe, or the Halter? Is there any here who has not watched for you, who has not fought for you, who has not bled for you? Who, through the length of this inveterate Siege, has not suffered Fatigues and Miseries, a thousand Times worse than Death, that you and yours might survive to Days of Peace and Prosperity? Is it your Preservers, then, whom you would destine to Destruction? you will not, you cannot do it. Justice, Honour, Humanity make such a Treason impossible.
Where then is our Resource? is there any Expedient left, whereby we may avoid Guilt and Infamy on the one Hand, or the Desolation and Horrors of a sacked City on the other? there is, my Friends, there is one Expedient left; a gracious, an excellent, a Godlike Expedient! Is there any here to whom Virtue is dearer than Life? Let him offer himself an Oblation for the Safety of his People! He shall not fail of a blessed Approbation from that Power, who offer'd up his only Son for the Salvation of Mankind.
He spoke—but a universal Silence ensued. Each Man looked around for the Example of that Virtue and Magnanimity, in others, which all wished to approve in themselves, though they wanted the Resolution.
At length Saint Pierre resumed—
It had been base in me, my fellow Citizens to propose any Matter of Damage, to others, which I myself had not been willing to undergo in my own Person. But I held it ungenerous to deprive any Man of that Preference and Estimation which might attend a first Offer, on so signal an Occasion. For I doubt not but there are many here as ready, nay more zealous of this Martyrdom than I can be, however Modesty and the Fear of imputed Ostentation may withhold them from being foremost in exhibiting their Merits.
Indeed, the Station, to which the Captivity of Lord Vienne has unhappily raised me, imparts a Right to be the first in giving my Life for your Sakes. I give it freely, I give it cheerfully; who comes next?
Your Son! exclaimed a Youth, not yet come to Maturity. — 
Ah my Child! cried Saint Pierre, I am, then, twice sacrificed. — But, no — I have rather begotten thee a second Time. — Thy Years are few but full, my Son; the Victim of Virtue has reached the utmost Purpose and Goal of Mortality. Who next, my Friends? — This is the Hour of Heroes.
— Your Kinsman, cried John D'Aire! your Kinsman, cried James Wissant! your Kinsman, cried Peter Wissant! — Ah, exclaimed Sir Walter Mauny, bursting into Tears, why was I not a Citizen of Calais?
The sixth Victim was still wanting, but was quickly supplied, by Lot, from Numbers who were now emulous of so ennobling an Example.
The Keys of the City were then delivered to Sir Walter. He took the six Prisoners into his Custody. He ordered the Gates to be opened, and gave Charge to his Attendants to conduct the remaining Citizens, with their Families, through the Camp of the English.
Before they departed, however, they desired Permission to take their last Adieu of their Deliverers — What a Parting, what a Scene! They crowded with their Wives and Children about Saint Pierre and his fellow Prisoners. They embraced, they clung around, they fell prostrate before them. They groaned, they wept aloud; and the joint Clamour of their Mourning passed the Gates of the City and was heard throughout the Camp.
The English, by this Time, were apprised of what passed within Calais. They heard the Voice of Lamentation, and their Souls were touched with Compassion. Each of the Soldiers prepared a Portion of their own Victuals to welcome and entertain the half famished Inhabitants; and they loaded them with as much as their present Weakness was able to bear, in order to supply them with Sustenance by the Way.
At length, Saint Pierre and his fellow Victims appeared under the conduct of Sir Walter and a Guard. All the Tents of the English were instantly emptied. The Soldiers poured from all Parts, and arranged themselves on each Side, to behold, to contemplate, to admire this little Band of Patriots as they passed. They bowed down to them on all Sides. They murmured their applause of that Virtue which they could not but revere, even in Enemies. And they regarded those Ropes, which they had voluntarily assumed about their Necks, as Ensigns of greater Dignity than that of the British Garter.
As soon as they had reached the Presence, Mauny! says the Monarch, are these the principal Inhabitants of Calais? They are, says Mauny, they are not only the principal Men of Calais, they are the principal Men of France, my Lord, if Virtue has any Share in the Act of ennobling. Were they delivered peaceably, says Edward; was there no Resistance, no Commotion among the People? Not in the least, my Lord; the People would all have perished, rather than have delivered the least of these to your Majesty. They are Self-delivered, Self-devoted, and come to offer up their inestimable Heads as an ample Equivalent for the Ransom of Thousands.
Edward was secretly piqued at this Reply of Sir Walter, but, he knew the Privilege of a British Subject, and suppressed his Resentment. Experience, says he hath ever shewn that Lenity only serves to invite People to new Crimes. Severity, at Times, is indispensably necessary to deter Subjects into Submission by Punishment and Example. Go, he cried to an Officer, lead these Men to Execution. Your Rebellion, continued he, addressing himself to Saint Pierre, your Rebellion against me, the natural Heir of your Crown, is highly aggravated by your present Presumption and Affront of my Power.—We have nothing to ask of your Majesty, said Eustace, save what you cannot refuse us.—What is that?—Your Esteem, my Lord, said Eustace, and went out with his Companions.
At this Instant, a Sound of Triumph was hear'd throughout the Camp. The Queen had just arrived, with a powerful Reinforcement of those gallant Soldiers, at the Head of whom she had conquer'd Scotland, and taken their King Captive.
Sir Walter Mauny flew to receive her Majesty, and briefly inform'd her of the Particulars respecting the six Victims.
As soon as She had been welcomed by Edward and his Court, She desir'd a private Audience. My Lord, said She, the Question I am to enter upon is not touching the Lives of a few Mechanics; it respects a Matter, more estimable than the Lives of all the Natives of France, it respects the Honour of the English Nation, it respects the Glory of my Edward, my Husband, my King.
You think you have sentenced Six of your Enemies to Death. No, my Lord, they have sentenced themselves, and their Execution would be the Execution of their own Orders, not the Orders of Edward.
They have behaved themselves worthily, they have behaved themselves greatly, I cannot but respect, while I envy, while I hate them, for leaving us no Share in the Honour of this Action, save that of granting a poor and indispensable Pardon.
I admit they have deserved everything that is evil at your Hands. They have proved the most inveterate and efficacious of your Enemies. They, alone, have withstood the rapid Course of your Conquests, and have withheld from You the Crown to which You were born. Is it therefore that You would reward them? that you would gratify their Desires, that you would indulge their Ambition, and enwreathe them with everlasting Glory and Applause?
But, if such a Death would exalt Mechanics over the Fame of the most illustrious Heroes, how would the Name of my Edward, with all his Triumphs and Honours be tarnished thereby! Would it not be said that Magnanimity and Virtue are grown odious in the Eyes of the Monarch of Britain? And that the Objects, whom he destines to the Punishment of Felons, are the very Men who deserve the Praise and Esteem of Mankind The Stage, on which they should suffer, would be to them a Stage of Honour, but a Stage of Shame to Edward, a Reproach to his Conquests, a dark and indelible Disgrace to his Name.
No, my Lord. Let us rather disappoint the saucy Ambition of these Burghers, who wish to invest themselves with Glory at our Expense. We cannot, indeed, wholly deprive them of the merit of a Sacrifice so nobly intended; but we may cut them short of their Desires; in the Place of that Death, by which their Glory would be consummate, let us bury them under Gifts let us put them to Shame with Praises; we shall thereby defeat them of that popular Opinion which never fails to attend those who suffer in the Cause of Virtue.
I am convinced; you have prevailed; be it so, cried Edward, prevent the Execution; have them instantly before us!
They came, when the Queen, with an Aspect and Accents diffusing Sweetness, thus bespoke them.
Natives of France, and Inhabitants of Calais, Ye have put us to vast Expense of Blood and Treasure in the Recovery of our just and natural Inheritance; but, you acted up to the best of an erroneous Judgment, and we admire and honour in you that Valour and Virtue, by which we are so long kept out of our rightful Possessions.
You noble Burghers, you excellent Citizens! though you were tenfold the Enemies of our Person and our Throne, we can feel nothing, on our Part, save Respect and Affection for You. You have been sufficiently tested. We loose your Chains, we snatch You from the Scaffold; and we thank You for that Lesson of Humiliation which you teach us, when you shew us that Excellence is not of Blood, of Title, or Station; that Virtue gives a Dignity superior to that of Kings; and that Those, whom the Almighty informs with Sentiments like yours, are justly and eminently raised above all human Distinctions.
You are now free to depart to your Kinsfolk, your Countrymen, to all Those whose Lives and Liberties You have so nobly redeemed, provided you refuse not to carry with You the due Tokens of our Esteem.
Yet, we would rather bind You, to ourselves, by every endearing Obligation; and for this Purpose, we offer to You your Choice of the Gifts and Honours that Edward has to bestow. Rivals for Fame, but always Friends to Virtue, we wish that England were entitled to call You her Sons.
Ah my Country, exclaimed Saint Pierre, it is now that I tremble for You. Edward could only win your Cities, but Philippa conquers Hearts.
Brave Saint Pierre, said the Queen, wherefore look you so dejected?—Ah Madam! replied Saint Pierre, when I meet with such another Opportunity of dying, I shall not regret that I survived this Day.
Here a long Pause ensued. At length the Earl recollected himself. Mr. Meekly, sais he, You have now proved to me your Position more effectually, more convincingly, than all the Powers of Ratiocination could possibly do. While you related the Story of those divine Citizens, I was imperceptibly stolen away and won entirely from Self. I entered into all their Interests, their Passions, and Affections; and was wrapped, as it were, into a new World of delightful Sensibilities. Is this what you call Virtue, what you call Happiness?
A good deal of it, my Lord. There are in Nature but two Kinds of Self; in other Words, there are but two Sorts of Wills in the Universe; the Will of infinite Wisdom, of infinite Benevolence, going forth in Beauty and Beatitude on all Creatures; And the Will of the Creature, desiring, attracting, envying, coveting, and rending all Things, from All, to its own Interest and Advantage. In the first Will subsists all possible Good, from the Second arises all possible Evil; and did not the first Will, in some Measure, inform and meliorate the Second, the Will of every Creature would be an Ishmael, his Hand would be against every One, and every One's Hand against him, and there would be nothing but Strife and Distraction, Hatred, Horror, and Misery throughout the Creation.
Hence it follows that, as there is but one Will, from Eternity, infinitely wise to discern what is best throughout the Universe, infinitely good to desire the Accomplishment of what is best, and infinitely powerful to put what is best in Execution; every Will that is not inform'd by this ONE WILL, must of necessity act in Ignorance, in Blindness, and Error. I will further affirm that every Act of every Will, that is not informed by the ONE WILL of GOODNESS must, of equal necessity, be the Act of Malevolence.
I do not see the necessity of that, replied the Earl. I well perceive that God can give to intelligent Beings an Existence or Identity distinct from himself, for I see that he has done it. What should therefore prevent him from giving Qualities as distinct from himself as the Essence? why might he not impart, to any limited Degree, Capacity, Discernment, Power, Wisdom, and Goodness? Might not such a Being instantly perceive, to a vast Extent, the Relations of Things, with their several Fitnesses and Disagreements? would he not consequently be enamoured of what was right and beautiful? would he not act agreeable to such a just Approbation? and would not such Actions be fitly accounted the Act of Virtue?
At this Instant a Messenger arrived on the Spur. He brought word to Mr. Meekly that his Friend, Mr. Husbands, was taken suddenly ill and earnestly requested to see him directly; whereupon Mr. Meekly, who preferred any Matter of Charity to all other Considerations, immediately got up, made a silent Bow and vanished.
TO RETURN to our Hero. As soon as he was new rigged, he press'd for another Visit to his Patron; who received him, with accustomed Tenderness, but greatly wonder'd at his Peasant Dress. Nurse, then, recited to him the whole Adventure of the fritter'd Robeings. Whereat, the old Gentleman, in a manner devoured him with the Eagerness of his Caresses.
When Nurse and Harry were departed, he called to him his old Domestic. James, says he, with a Tear yet standing in his Eye, I can no longer live without the Company of this dear Child, hasten, therefore, the Orders that I have already given you, and let all Things be in Readiness for the first Opportunity. The Domestic, who had caught the silent Habit of his Master, with a Bow, assented, and retired.
Autumn was now advanced, and Lord Dickey, with his Brother, a Number of little Associates, and an attending Footman, got leave to go to the Copse, a Nutting. As the Children were perfectly acquainted with the Way, the Servant desired to stay behind, a while, in order to provide Hooks for pulling down the Branches. This was granted; and forth they all issued in high Chat and Spirits.
The Copse lay, at some Distance, on one Side of the Park behind the Mansion-House; but, when they had nearly approached the Place of their Destination, Harry missed a Garter, and, promising speedily to rejoin his Companions, went back to seek it.
In the mean Time, his Associates, on entering the Wood, met with another little Posse of the Village Fry, who were on their Return, one of whom carried a Bag of Nuts that seem'd bulkier than the Bearer. So, Gentlemen, says Lord Dickey, where are you going? Why, Home, where should we go? says a little Boor, sullenly. And, pray, what have you been doing, says the Lord. Guess, says the Boor. Is it Nuts that you have got in that Bag? demanded the Lord. Ask, To-morrow; answered the Boor. Sirrah, sais Dickey, a little provoked, how dare you to come and pull Nuts here, without our Leave? Why, as for that, Master Dickey, replied the other, I know you well enough, and I wouldn't ask your Leave, an' you were twenty Lords, not I. Sirrah, says Dickey, I have a great Mind to take your Nuts from you, and to give you as good a Beating, into the Bargain, as ever you got in your Life. As for that, Master Dickey, coolly answered the Villager, you must do Both or Neither. Here I lay down my Nuts between us; and now come any Two of your Watergruel Regiment, one down t'other come on, and if I don't give ye your Belly full, why, then, take my Nuts, and welcome, to make up the Want.
This gallant Invitation was accepted, on the Spot. Lord Richard chose his Companion in Arms; and Both appeared quite flush and confident of Victory. For, though neither of them had been versed in the Gymnastic Exercises, they didn't want Courage and they knew that the Challenger was their Inferior in Strength and in Years.
But, unhappily for these two Champions of Quality, Tommy Truck, their Adversary, had, like Harry, been a Bruiser, from two Years old and upward; and was held, in Veneration, as their Leader, and their Chief, by many who were his Superiors in Age and Stature.
Lord Richard began the Assault, but, was down in a Twinkling. To him his Friend succeeded, but, with no better Fortune. A Swing or Trip of Tommy's sent them, instantly, as Alcides sent Antaeus, to gather Strength from their Mother-Earth. And, though these Summer Heroes, like the young Roman Nobility at the Battle of Pharsalia, were solely intent on defending their pretty Faces from Annoyance, yet Tommy, at the third Turn, had bloodied them, Both.
Harry, who was now on his Return, perceived the Engagement, and, running up, and, rushing between the Combatants, interposed, with a Voice of Authority, and parted the Fray.
Having enquired, and duly informed himself of the Merits of the Case, he, first turned him to Lord Richard, and said, O, Brother Dickey, Brother Dickey, you ought not to hinder poor Boys from pulling a few dirty Nuts, what signifies 'em? Then, turning to the Challenger; his old Acquaintance; Tommy, says he, did you know that Dickey was my Brother? Yes, says Tommy, rudely, and what tho' of I did. O, nothing at all, says Harry, but I want to speak with you, Tommy. Whereupon he took the Conqueror under the Arm, and walked away, with him, very lovingly, in all Appearance, looking about to take Care that none of the Boys follow'd him.
Mean Time, the little Gentry threw out their Invectives, in Profusion, against our departed Hero. I think, says one, that Master Harry had as much to blame in Tommy as Lord Dickey. Ay, says another, one would think he might as well have taken his Brother's Part, as that Blackguard's. Indeed, it was very naughty of him, says a Third. For my Part, says a Fourth, I never will have any Thing more to say to him.
While, thus, they vilified their late Friend, he and his fellow Champion walked, Arm in Arm, in a sullen and uninterrupted Silence. Till, coming to a small Opening, in a secreted Part of the Wood, Harry quitted his Companion, desired him to strip, and, instantly, cast aside his own Hat, Coat, and Waistcoat. Why should I strip, says Tommy? To Box, says Harry. Why should you box with me, Harry? sure I didn't strike you, says Tom. Yes, Sir, replied our Hero, you struck me when you struck Dickey, and knew that he was my Brother. Nay, Harry, cried Tom, if it's Fight you are for, I'll give you enough of it, I warrant you.
Tom was about eight Months older than Harry, his equal in the Practice of Arms, and much the stronger. But, Harry was full as tall; and his Motions, quicker than Thought, prevented the Ward of the most experienced Adversary.
Together they rushed, like two little Tigers. At once, they struck and parried, and, watching every open, they darted their little Fists, like Engines, at each other. But Tom, marking the Quickness, and feeling the Smart of Harry's Strokes, suddenly leapt within his Arm, bore him down to the Earth, and triumphantly gave him the first rising Blow.
Harry rose, indignant, but warn'd, by the Strength of his Adversary, to better Caution. He now fought, more aloof, and as Tom pressed upon him, he at once guarded, struck, and wheel'd, like an experienced Cock, without quitting the Pit of Honour.
Tom, finding himself wholly foiled by this Parthian Method of Combat, again rush'd upon his Enemy, who was, now, aware of the Shock. They closed, they grappled, they caught each other by the Shoulders, join'd Head to Head, and Breast to Breast, and stood, like two Pillars, merely supported by their Bearing against one another. Again they shifted the left Arm, caught each other about the Neck, and cuffed and punch'd at Face and Stomach, without Mercy or Remission; till Tom, impatient of this Length of Battle, gave Harry a side Swing, and, Harry giving Tom a Trip at the same Time, they fell Side by Side, together upon the Earth.
They rose, and retreated, to draw Breath, as by mutual Consent. They glared on one another with an Eye of vindictive Apprehension. For neither of them could now boast of more Optics than Polyphemus; and, from their Forehead to their Shoes, they were in one Gore of Blood.
Again they flew upon each other, again they struck, foined, and defended, and alternately, press'd on and retreated in Turns, till Harry, spying an Open, darted his Fist, like a Shot, into the remaining Eye of his Enemy. Tom, finding himself in utter Darkness, instantly, sprung upon his Foe, and endeavoured to grapple; but Harry, with equal Agility, avoided the Shock, and, traversing here and there beat his Adversary at Pleasure. Till Tom cried out, I yield I yield, Harry, for I can't see to fight, anymore.
Then, Harry took Tom by the Hand and led him to his Clothes, and, having assisted him to dress, he, next, did the same friendly Office to himself. Then, Arm in Arm, they returned much more loving, in reality, than they set out, having been beaten into a true Respect and Affection for each other.
Sometime before this, the Footman had joined his young Lord, with the several Implements requisite for Nutting. They had, already, pulled down great Quantities; the young Quality had stuffed their Pockets; and the little Plebeians, who had assisted, were now permitted to be busy in gathering up the Refuse. When all, turning at the Cry of there's Harry, there's Tom, they perceived our two Champions, advancing, leisurely, but Hand in Hand, as Friends and Brothers.
They had left their Clothes unbuttoned, for the Benefit of the cooling Air; and, as they approached, their Companions were frozen into Astonishment, at the Sight of their two Friends all covered with Crimson.
They were neither able to advance to meet them, nor to speak, when they arrived. 'Till Lord Dickey, first, inquired into this bloody Catastrophe, and, Harry remaining wholly silent on the Subject; blind Tommy cried out, why, Master Dickey, the Truth is, that Harry, beat me, because I beat You. Then Dickey, feeling a sudden Gush of Gratitude and Affection rising up in his Bosom, looked wistfully on his Brother, and said, with a plaintive Voice, O Brother Harry, Brother Harry, you are sadly hurt; and, turning about, he began to weep most bitterly. But Harry said, Shaw! Brother Dickey, don't cry Man, I don't matter it of the Head of a brass Pin. Then turning to the Footman, with Tom still in his Hand, he cried, here John, take that Bag of Nuts and poor blind Tommy to my Mammy's, and tell Daddy that I desire him to see them both safe home.
Friend.
Sir, your Hero is indeed a Hero, he must be every body's Hero.
Author.
Sir, you do him vast Honour; and I should be proud of your further Instructions towards his supporting the Dignity of the Character you give him. Pray, what are the ingredient Qualities of which a Hero is compounded? what Idea have you formed of such a Personage? tell me, I beseech you, what is a Hero, my good Friend?
Fr.
Pshaw!—what a Question—every Fool knows that.—A Hero is—as though one should say—a Man of high Achievement—who performs famous Exploits—who does Things that are heroic—and in all his Actions and Demeanour, is a Hero indeed—why do you laugh—I will give you the Instances approved throughout the World; recorded and duly celebrated by Poets, Painters, Sculptors, Statuaries, and Historians.—There was the Assyrian Ninus, the Sesostris of Egypt, the Cyrus of Persia, the Alexander of Greece, the Caesar of Rome, and, partly in our own Days, there was the Conde of France, the Charles of Sweden, and Persia's Kouli Kan.—What the plague does the Fellow laugh at?
Aut.
I am laughing to think what a Blockhead Themistocles was. Being asked whom he considered as the greatest of Heroes; not him who conquers but who saves, replied Themistocles; not the Man who ruins but the Man who erects; who, of a Village can make a City, or turn a despicable People into a great Nation.
Fr.
According to your Notion of Heroism, that Boor and Barbarian, Peter Alexiowitz of Russia, was the greatest Hero that ever lived.
Aut.
True, my Friend; for, of a numerous People, he disembruted every one, except himself. But then, in all Equity, he ought to divide his Glory with Kate the Washerwoman, who humanized the Man that humanized a Nation.
Fr.
Whom do you take to have been the greatest Hero of Antiquity?
Aut.
Lycurgus, without Comparison, the greatest of Heroes and the greatest of Legislators. In those very early Days, the People of Lacedaemon were extremely rude and ignorant; they acknowledged no Laws, save the Dictates of their own Will or the Will of their Rulers. Lycurgus might have assumed the Sceptre; but his Ambition aspired to a much more elevated and durable Dominion, over the Souls, Manners, and Conduct of this People and their Posterity. He framed a Body of the most extraordinary Institutions that ever entered into the Heart or Head of Man. Next to those of our DIVINE LEGISLATOR, they were intended to form a new Creature. He prevailed upon the Rich to make an equal Distribution of their Lands with the Poor. He prohibited the Use of all such Money as was current among other Nations, and, thereby prohibited the Importation of the Means and Materials of Pomp and Luxury. He enjoined them to feed, in common, on simple and frugal Fare. He forbid all Gorgeousness of Furniture and Apparel. In short, he endeavoured to suppress every sensual and selfish Desire, by Injunctions of daily Exercise, Toil, and Hardship, a patient Endurance of Pain, and a noble Contempt of Death. At length, feigning some Occasion of being abroad for a Season, he exacted an Oath from the Lacedaemonians that they should strictly observe his Laws, without the smallest Infringement, till his Return. Thus, for the love of his Country, he went into perpetual Banishment from it. And he took Measures, at his Death, that his Body should never be found, lest it should be carried back to Sparta, and give his Countrymen a Colour for dissolving their Oath.
Fr.
Laying Peter aside, who, think you, was the greatest Hero among the Moderns?
Aut.
To confess the Truth; among all that I have heard or read of; the Hero whom I most affect was a Madman, and the Lawgiver whom I most affect was a Fool.
Fr.
'Troth, I believe you never would have been the Writer you are at this Day, if you had not adopted somewhat of both the said Qualities. But, come, unriddle I beseech you; where may this favourite Hero and Legislator be found?
Aut.
In a Fragment of the Spanish History, bequeathed to the World by one Signior Cervantes.
Fr.
O!—have you led me to my old Acquaintance? pray, has not your Pegasus some Smatch of the Qualities of the famous Rosinante?
Aut.
Quite as chaste, I assure you. But, I perceive that you think I am drolling; you don't suppose that you can ever be seriously of the same Opinion. Yet, if you demand of your own Memory, for what have the great Heroes throughout History been renowned? it must answer, for Mischief merely, for spreading Desolation and Calamity among Men. How greatly, how gloriously, how divinely superior was our Hero of the Mancha! who went about righting of Wrongs, and redressing of Injuries, lifting up the fallen, and pulling down those whom Iniquity had exalted. In this his marvellous Undertaking, what Buffettings, what Bruisings, what Tramplings of Ribs, what pounding of Packstaves did his Bones not endure? (Mine ached at the recital.) But, Toil was his Bed of Down, and the House of Pain was, to him, a Bower of Delight, while he consider'd himself as engaged in giving Ease, Advantage, and Happiness to others. If Events did not answer to the Enterprises of his Heart, it is not to be imputed to the Man but to his Malady; for, had his Power and Success been as extensive as his Benevolence, all Things awry, upon Earth, at the Risque of his Limbs and Life, would instantly have been set as straight as a Cedar.
But, let me turn, with Reverence, to kiss the Hem of the Robes of the most respectable of all Governors and Legislators, Sancho Pansa. What Judgments! what Institutions! how are Minos, and Solon, and the inspired of the Goddess Aegeria here eclipsed! Sancho, thou wast a Peasant, thou wast illiterate, thou wast a Dunce for a Man, but an Angel for a Governor; inasmuch as, contrary to the Custom of all other Governors, thou didst not desire any Thing, thou didst not wish for any Thing, thine Eye was not bent to any Thing, save the Good of thy People! therefore thou cou'dst not stray, thou hadst no other way to travel. Could Aesop's Log have been moved to Action upon the same Principle, the Regency of Storks had not prevailed among Men. How am I provoked, Pansa, when I see thee insulted! how am I grieved when I find thee deposed! Saving the Realms of a certain Majesty, I say, and sigh to myself, O, that the whole Earth were as thine Island of Barataria; and thou, Sancho, the Legislator and the Ruler thereof.
Fr.
I feel Conviction. I confess it. But tell me, I pray you; why has the World, through all Ages and Nations, universally ascribed Heroism and Glory to Conquest?
Aut.
Through the Respect, as I take it, that they have for Power. Man is by Nature weak; he is born in and to a State of Dependence; he therefore naturally seeks and looks about for Help; and, where he observes the greatest Power, it is there that he applies and prays for Protection. Now, though this Power should be exerted to his Damage, instead of Defence, it makes no Alteration in his Reverence for it; he bows while he trembles, and while he detests he worships. In the present Case, it is with Man, as it is with God; He is not so awful and striking, he is not so much attended to, in the Sunshine and gentle Dews of his Providence and Benignity, as in his Lightnings and Thunders, his Clouds and his Tempests.
Hero, heroes, and < in non-Latin alphabet >, in the three Languages, signify a Demigod, or one who is superior to mere Man. But, how can this Superiority or Distinction be shewn? The serene Acts of Beneficence, the small and still Voice of Goodness are neither accompanied by Noise nor Ostentation. It is Uproar and Tumult, rather the Tumbling of sack'd Cities, the Shrieks of ravish'd Matrons, and the Groans of dying Nations that fill the Trump of Fame. Men of Power and Ambition find Distinction and Glory, very readily, attainable in this Way; as it is incomparably more easy to destroy than to create, to give Death than to give Life, to pull down than to build up, to bring Devastation and Misery rather than Plenty and Peace and Prosperity upon Earth.
Fr.
Were not Mankind, in this Instance, as blind to their own Interests, as they were iniquitous in giving Glory where Shame alone was due?
Aut.
In so doing, they proved at once the Dupes and the Victims of their own Folly. Praise a Child for his Genius in Pranks of Mischief and Malevolence, and you quicken him in the direct Road to the Gallows. It is just so that this wise World has bred up its heroic Reprobates, by ascribing Honour and Acclamation to Deeds that called loudly for Infamy and the Gibbet; for the World was an Ass from its very Commencement, and it will continue a Dunderhead to the End.
From the Beginning of Things (a long Time ago) the joint Invention of Mankind has discovered but two Methods of procuring Sustenance on Earth, the First by the Labour of their own Hands, the second by employing the Hands of others.
All therefore are excluded, or at least ought to be excluded from such a World, who refuse to labour, or, what is still worse, who disturb and prevent the Labour of Others.
Among those who will not labour, we may number all who have the Happiness of being born to no Manner of End; such as the Monks of every Country, the Dervises of Persia, the Bramins of India, the Mandarins of China, and the Gentlemen of these free and polished Nations.
These have nothing to do but to sleep it, to wake it; to eat it, to drink it; to dance it, to doze it; to riot it, to roar it; and to rejoice in the happy Earnest which this World has given them of the Jollities of the next.
Among those who disturb the Labour of others, I reckon all your rascally Alexanders and Caesars, whether ancient or modern, who, in their Fits of Frenzy and Folly, scamper about, breaking the Lanterns and beating the Watch of this World, to the great Amazement of Women and Terrour of little Children; and, who seem to think that Heaven gave Noses and Heads, for no End in Nature but to be blooded and cracked. In short, I have no Patience when I hear talk of these Fellows. I am not Half so fretted when I hear my own Works read—Go on, I request you, it may happen to put me in Temper.


CHAPTER 5
THE young Gentlemen were, now, upon their Return; and, as they approached the House, they crowded about Harry to keep him from being seen, till he took an Opportunity of slipping away and stealing up to his Chamber. He now grew stiff and sore, and his Nurse, having got an Intimation of what had happened, hurried up to him, and wept over him with abundant Tears of cordial Affection. She strait, undressed, and put him to Bed; and, having ordered some White-Wine Whey, of which she made him drink plentifully, she, also, undressed, and went to bed to him, and Harry, casting his little Arm about her Neck, and, putting his Head in her Bosom, was fast in a Twinkling.
By this, John had returned from the Execution of his Commission. He had been fully apprized by Tommy, on the Road, of all the Circumstances relating to this bloody Business; and, going to his Lord and Lady, he gave them the whole Detail, occasionally dwelling, and expatiating on Harry's Courage, his Prowess, his Honour, and his Generosity. They could, now, no longer forbear indulging themselves with the Sight of a Child, in whom they held themselves honoured, above all Titles. They stole, gently, upstairs; and, having got a Peep at Harry, and observed that he was fast asleep, they stole, as softly, back again, each inwardly exulting in their glorious Boy.
Our Hero was scarce recovered, from his Wounds and Bruises, when, on a Day, he met a little Beggar Boy at the Hall-Door, half naked, and whinging, and shivering with Cold. His Heart was, instantly, touched with wonted Compassion; and, taking him by the Hand, what is your Name, my poor little Boy, says Harry? Neddy, Sir, says the Child. And, where's your Daddy and Mammy? O, Sir, answered Ned, I have no Daddy nor Mammy in the World wide. Don't cry, don't cry, says Harry, I have several Daddies and Mammies, and I'll give you One or Two of 'em. But, where did you leave your Clothes, Neddy? I haven't any, Sir, replied the Child in a piteous Accent. Well well, it don't matter, Neddy, for I have more Clothes, too, says Harry. So, taking him again by the Hand, he led him up to his Apartment, without being perceived of any; and, helping him to strip, he ran to his Closet for the Shirt which he had last thrown off, and put it on the new Comer with equal Haste and Delight. He, next, ran for the entire Suit that his bearded Dada had given him, and, having helped, and shewn him how to put on the Breeches, he drew on the Stockings and Shoes with his own Hands. To these succeeded the Coat and Waistcoat, and Ned was, now, full as well rigg'd as his Benefactor.
Never had our Hero enjoyed himself, so highly, as while he was thus employed. When he had finished his Operations, he chuckled and smiled, turn'd Ned, round and round, walked here and there about him, and was as proud of him, as if he had been wholly of his own making.
He now, again, became thoughtful, forecasting in his Mind the Particulars that might further be requisite for the Accommodation of his Guest; for he was grown too fond of him to think of parting suddenly. He then recollected an adjoining Lumber-Room, and, taking Ned with him, they found a little old Mattress, which, with united Strength they dragged forth, and lodged in a convenient Corner of the Closet. To this they added a Pair of old Blanketts, and Harry, having spread them for Ned's Repose, in the best Manner he was able, asked his Dependent if he was yet hungry; Yes, very, very hungry indeed, Sir, cried Ned. No sooner said, than Harry flew down to the Kitchen, and, looking about, and spying a large Porringer of Milk and a Luncheon of Bread, that one of the Servants had provided for a young Favourite of their own, he seized upon them like a Hawk, and hast'ning, again to his Chamber, delivered them to Neddy who, already, had half devoured them with his Eyes. Ned, instantly, fell to with the Rapture of a Cormorant, or any Rapture that can be supposed less than that of his Friend Harry, who stood over him with the Feelings of a Parent Turtle; that feeds his Young with the Meat derived from his own Bowels.
For a few Days, Harry kept his Dependent shut up in his Chamber, or Closet, without the Privity of any of the Family, except Nurse, to whom he had reveal'd the Affair under the Seal of the strictest Secrecy.
But, on a cross Day, Susy the Housemaid, having entered with a new Broom into our Hero's Apartment, perceived, in a Corner, the tatter'd Deposite of Ned's original Robings, and, lifting them, at a cautious Distance, with a Finger and Thumb, she perceived, also, as many other Philosophers have done, that there is no part of this Globe which is not peopled with Nations of Animals, if Man had but Attention, and Optics duly accommodated to the Vision. She dropt the living Garment, as though she had taken up a burning Horse Shoe; and was, instantly, peopled, by her prolific Imagination, with Tribes of the same Species from Head to Foot.
In this Fit of Disgust, Susy happen'd, unfortunately, to step into the Closet, and spied Ned in a dark Corner, where he had squatted and drawn himself up to the Size of a Hedge-hog. She, immediately flew at him, like one of the Eumenides, and dragged him forth to the Light, as Hercules is said to have haled Cacus from his Den. She questioned him, with a Voice of implacable Authority, and Ned, with humble and ingenuous Tears, confessed the whole Adventure. But Susy, no way melted, exclaimed, what, Sirrah, have you, and your Master Harry, a mind to breed an Affection in the House? I will remit of no such Doings, for I have an utter Conversion to Beggar-Brats and Vermil. She then commanded him to bundle up his old Raggs, and, driving him down Stairs before her, she dismissed him from the Hall-Door with a Pair of smart Boxes on each Side of his Head, and ordered him never more to Defend her Sight.
Page  161 Poor Ned, went weeping and wailing, from the Door, when who should he see, at about fifty Paces, distant, but his beloved Patron Harry, who had been cutting a Switch from the next Hedge. To him he ran, with Precipitation. Harry, touched with a Compassion not free from Resentment, to see his Favourite in Tears, demanded the Cause of his apparent Distress, which Ned truly related. Our Hero, thereupon, became thoughtful and moody; and, judging that Susy had not acted thus without Authority, he conceived a general Disgust at a Family who had treated him so injuriously in the Person of his Neddy; but, comforting his Dependent the best he could, come Neddy, says he, don't cry, my Man; I will bring you, that I will, to my own dear Dada, and he will welcome and love you, for my Sake. Then, making his Way through a small Breach in the neighbouring Hedge, he ordered Ned to follow him, and flew across the Field, like a Bird of Passage, in a direct Line to his Patron's.
The old Gentleman saw him approaching and gave Sign to his ancient Domestic, who withdrew, with Precipitation. He received and caressed our Hero with more than usual Transport, and who, my Dear says he, is this pretty little Boy that you have got with you? Harry, then, like the Grecian Demosthenes, taking Time to warm himself with the Recollection of his own Ideas, and, setting his Person forth with an Action and Ardour that determined to prevail, made the following Oration.
Why, Dada, I must tell you as how this poor little Boy, for he is a very poor little Boy, and his Name is Neddy, Sir, and he has no Friend in the wide World but you and I, Sir; and, so Sir, as I was telling you, he comes to the Door, crying sadly for Cold and Hunger, and he would have pitied every Body, for he had no Clothes, nor Daddy nor Mammy at all, Sir, and I had a many of them, and that wasn't fair, you know, Sir; and I was in the Humour to give him all the Dadas and Mamas I had in the World, except you, Sir; and Mammy Nurse. And so, I takes him upstairs, and I puts the Clothes upon him, that you gave me, when I was a poor little Boy, Sir; for no Body had to say to 'em, but you and I, Sir; and I knew that you would pity poor little Neddy, more than I pitied him myself, Sir. And so, Dada, they takes my poor little Neddy to Day, and boxed him, and beat him sadly, and turned him out of Doors; and so I meets him crying and roaring, and so, you know, Sir, as how I had nothing to do, but to bring him to you, Sir, or to stay, and cry with him for Company, Sir.
Here, Orator Harry ceased to speak, except by his Tears, which he could no longer restrain, and which proceeded to plead most emphatically for him. But, his Patron took him in his Arms, and kissed the Drops from both Eyes, and said, don't cry, my Darling, for I am yours, my Harry, and all that I have is yours, and, if you had brought a whole Regiment of poor little Neddies, with you, they should be all welcome to me, for your Sake, my Harry.
Then Harry sprung up, and caught his Patron about the Neck, so that it was some Time before the old Gentleman could get loose. But, Harry, says he, I am going just now to leave this Country; will you and your Man Neddy come along with me? Over the World wide, Dada, says Harry; but where are you going, Sir? I am going a Begging, Harry. O, that will be brave Sport, says Harry, I'll tell you what you shall do, Dada. What's that, my Love? Why, Sir, says Harry, you must get a great Bag, like the old Man and little Child that was at Door, 'tother Day. And Neddy and I will beg for you, Sir; and we will put all that we get into your great Bag, as that good little Child did for his Daddy, without touching a Bit; though he was a hungry enough, himself, poor Fellow, I warant. But don't let us go to beg to Papa's Door, Sir; for, if you do, they will box and beat us, and drive us away, as they did to poor little Neddy, to Day, Sir.
The old Gentleman, thereat, had his Countenance divided betwixt the rising Tear and the bursting Laugh. But, taking Harry by the Hand, he said. No no, my heavenly Creature, I am not going to beg of any Man living, but to beg of God to pour down his full Weight of Blessings upon my Harry, and, to endeavour to confirm them to him, both here and hereafter, by my Care and Instructions.
Having thus spoken, he put a large Cake into the Hand of each of the Children, and, causing them to drink a full Glass of small White-Wine, he took them into a back Yard, where a light Coach with six Horses and three Servants, ready mounted, attended. And, having placed his young Companions, and seated himself between them, away the Coach drove, at a sweeping Gallop.
About the Time that our Hero and his Patron set out, Nurse went upstairs, with a most bountiful Cut, of Home baked Bread and Butter; for the Amusement of the young Caitiff whom she had left in the Closet; but not finding him there, she hastily dropped her Provender on the first Window she met, and, hurrying down to the Kitchen, earnestly enquired for the little Beggar-Boy whom Master Harry had taken into his Service; at this Question all the Servants stood in silent Amazement, except Susy, who, bridling up, and assuming the whole Importance of her Station. Why, Nurse, says she, you mustn't oppose that I am come here, to sweep and to clean after lousy little Flagrants, it was enough to breed an Antagion, that it was, in the House; so what magnifies many Words, I took the little dirty Bastard and cuff'd him out of Doors. You did Hussey, says Nurse, you dare to affront and vex my Child, my little Man, the Honour and Pride of all the Family? And, so saying, she ups with her brawny Arm, and gave Susy such a Douse on the Side of the Head, as left her fast asleep for an Hour and upward. Then running upstairs, again, she went, searching and clamouring, for her Harry, about the House, in order to comfort and condole with him for his Loss.
Dinner was now served up, and the Company seated, and all the Servants ran severally, here and there, repeatedly summoning Master Harry to attend. But, Harry was out of Hearing, by many a Mile. When the Cloth was removed, Nurse entered with an Aspect, half in Tears and half distracted, and exclaimed that her Child was not to be found. And what, Nurse, says the Earl, do you think is become of him? I hope, my Lord, says she, that he is either strayed to his Daddy, or to the dumb Gentleman's. Then, Messengers were, instantly, dispatched to both Houses, who speedily returned, with Tidings, that Master Harry had not been seen at his Foster-father's, and that no one was at Home at the House of the Dumb Gentleman.
The Business, now, became serious, and alarming; the whole House was in Commotion, and all the Domestics, and our Hero's loving Nurse, with Lord Dickey in her Hand, ran searching through the Gardens, the Fields, and the Groves, that resounded, on all Sides, with the Name of the Absentee.
On their Return from a Disquisition, as fruitless as solicitous, Nurse declared her Apprehensions, that Harry was gone off, with a little favourite Boy whom he had taken into Service, and whom the House Maid, that Morning, had beaten out of Doors. Susy, being nearly recovered, and now called and questioned, hereon, was compelled to confess the Fact, though in Terms less haughty and less elegant, than usual; when my Lord, looking sternly at her, and who, you Strumpet, he cried, gave you Authority to turn anyone out of my House whom my noble and generous Boy was pleased to bring in? get you instantly away, and never let me be so unhappy as to see that Face again.
By this Time, the whole Village and Neighbourhood, as well as this noble Family, were in Trouble and Alarms for the Loss of their little Favourite; when a Countryman enter'd in sweaty Haste and desired, without Preface, to be admitted to the Earl. My Lord, says he, I think I can give you some News of your dear Child. As I was returning Home on the London Road, I saw a Coach and Six driving towards me at a great rate, and, though it passed me in Haste, I marked that the Gentleman with the Beard, was in it, and that he had two Children with him, one on each Hand, though I had not Time to observe their Faces.
Here is something for your News, said the Earl, it may be as you say.—Here, John! take a Posse of the Servants along with you. Go in Haste to that Man's House. If no one answers, break open the Door; and bring me Word of what you can learn concerning him.
John, who was the House Steward, hurried instantly on his Commission; and, finding all in Silence, after loud and repeated Knockings, he and his Myrmidons burst open the Door, and rushing in ran up and down through all the Apartments. They found the House richly furnished, a Library of choice Books above Stairs, a Buffet full of massy Plate, and everything in Order as if prepared for the Reception of a Family of Distinction. At this they all stood astonished, till John, casting his Eye toward a Table in the Street Parlour, perceived a Paper which he hastily snatched up, and found to be a Letter, duly folded and sealed and addressed to his Lord. Exulting at this Discovery, he left some of the Servants to watch the Goods, and hurried back with all possible Speed to his Master.
My Lord, says John entering, and striving to recover Breath, the dumb Gentleman, as they call him, must be a main rich Man, for the very Furniture of his House cannot be worth less than some Thousands of Pounds. John then presented the Letter, which the Earl hastily broke open, and found to be, as follows:
My Lord,
I Am at length presented with an Opportunity of carrying off your little Harry, the greatest Treasure that ever Parents were bless'd with.
The Distress that I feel, in foreseeing the Affliction that his Absence will cause to your whole Family, has not been able to prevail for the Suspension of this Enterprise, as the Child's Interest and Happiness outweighs, with me, all other Considerations.
Permit me, however, to assure your Lordship that our Darling is in very safe and very affectionate Hands, and that it shall be the whole Concern, and Employment of my Life, to render and to return him to you, in due Time, the most accomplished and most perfect of all human Beings.
In the meanwhile, your utmost Search and Enquiry after us will be fruitless. I leave to your Lordship my House and Furniture, as a Pledge and Assurance of the Integrity of my Intentions,
And am, &c.
The Mystery of our Hero's Flight was now, in a great Measure unravelled; but no one could form any rational Conjecture, touching the Motive of the old Gentleman's Procedure in the Case; and all were staggered at his leaving such a Mass of Wealth behind him.
As the falling on of a dark Night rendered all Pursuit, for that Time, impracticable; my Lord order'd the Servants to Bed, that they might rise before Day; and then to take every Horse he had, Coach-Cattle and all, and to muster and mount the young Men of the Village, and to pursue after the Fugitives, by different Roads, according to the best Likelihood or Intelligence they might receive.
In this hopeful Prospect, the House was again in some Measure composed; all, except poor Nurse who would not be comforted, neither could be prevailed upon to enter in at the Doors; but all Night, on the cold Stairs, or rambling through the raw Air, continued clapping and wringing her Hands, and bewailing the irreparable Loss of her Harry.
On the following Day, my Lord ordered a minute Inventory to be taken of all the Furniture in the forsaken Mansion-House; and further appointed Harry's Foster-father, with his Family, to enter into Possession, and to take Care of the Effects, till such Time as the Proprietor should renew his Claim.
After three tedious Days, and as many expecting Nights, the Posse that went in quest of our Runaways returned; all, drooping and dejected, most of them slowly leading their overspent Horses, and universally bespatter'd or cover'd with Mire, without any Equivalent of comfortable Tidings to balance the Weight of their Languor and Fatigue.
The Happiness or Wretchedness of human Life, as it should seem, does not so much depend on the Loss or Acquisition of real Advantage, as on the fluctuating Opinions and Imaginations of Men. The Absence of this Infant who, but a few Months before, had no Manner of Interest in the Views, Affections, or Solicitudes of this noble Family, appeared now as the Loss of all their Honours and Fortunes. A general Face of Mourning seemed to darken every Apartment; and my Lord and Lady no more paid Visits, nor received public Company. They were however inventive in many Contrivances for amusing and consoling their darling Dickey, but even this was to little Purpose, for he was often found silently languishing in Corners; or crying, O, where's my Brother Harry, my own sweet Brother Harry, shall I never see my own Brother Harry anymore?
My Lord had already dispatched a Multitude of circular Letters to all his Acquaintances, with other Notices, throughout the Kingdom, containing Offers of ample Rewards for the Recovery of his Child. But, finding all ineffectual, he caused Advertisements, to the same Purpose, to be repeatedly inserted in all the public Papers; as the same, no doubt, are still extant, and may be found in the musty Chronicles of those Days.
Within a few Weeks after the publishing of these Advertisements my Lord received a Letter, respecting his Son Harry, that afforded great Consolation to him and his Lady; insomuch, that, with the Help of the lenient Hand of Time, in less than the Space of twelve Months, this noble Family were restored to their former Cheerfulness and Tranquillity.
But, to return to the Situation in which we left our Hero: The Coach drove on, at a round Rate, and the Children continued in high Glee, and thought this kind of Conveyance the finest Sport imaginable.
When they had entered, a Space, on the first Common, the Coachman looked about, to take Care that no one was in Sight; and, turning to the right Hand, he held gently on, till he came to another great Road, on which he drove at his former Rate. This he did, again, at the next Common, and, coming to another Road that led, also, to London, and Night now approaching, he put up at the first great Inn he came to.
Harry's Patron had the Precaution to keep his great Coat muffled about his Face, so that no one could observe his Beard, till they were shewn to a Room, and Fire and Candles were lighted up. Then, his ancient Friend and Domestic, having provided Scissors and Implements for Shaving, locked the Door and set to Work in the Presence of the Children.
Harry was all Attention, during the whole Process; and when the Operation was quite completed, he drew near to his Patron, with a cautious kind of Jealousy, and, looking up to his Face, with the Tears in his little Eyes, speak to me, Sir, says he, pray speak to me. It is, answered the old Gentleman, the only Comfort of my Life to be with you and to speak to you, my Harry. The Child, hearing the well-known Voice of Friendship, immediately cleared again, and, reaching up his little Arms to embrace his Patron; O, indeed, says he, I believe you are my own Dada still.
Though Harry was, now, reconciled to the Identity of his Friend, yet he felt a secret Regret for the Absence of his Beard. For he loved all and every Part, of him, so entirely, that the Loss of a Hair appeared a Loss and a Want to the Heart of Harry.
After an early Supper, and two or three small Glasses of Wine per Man; this Gentleman, whom his Servants had now announced by the Name of Mr. Fenton, became all Things in all with his young Companions. He delighted them with several entertaining Tricks. He put the Point of a large Needle to the Edge of a drinking Glass, and then, placing the Centre of a Pewter Plate on the Top of the Needle, he began to turn it about, with an increasing Motion, till it whirled round, at a Rapidity that was altogether joyous and amazing to the little Spectators. He, next, turned two Plates with their Faces to each-other, and, placing them on the Brim of a large Beer-Glass, he put an Egg upon the Plates, and, giving the Plates a slight Stroke, with the Side of his Hand, the Plates, instantly flew from between the Glass and the Egg, and the Egg fell plumb into the Glass, without the smallest Fracture.
After some other of the like Fooleries, the Table was removed; and, as the Room was very large, Mr. Fenton proposed Hide and go seek to his Associates. This Invitation was accepted with Transport, and, after they were cloy'd with Hide and seek, they all play'd Tagg till they were well warmed.
Mr. Fenton then ordered a Pallet into the Chamber, for James, his faithful Domestic, and little Ned. Then, helping to undress Harry, he put him, first, to Bed; and, hastening after, he took his Darling to his Bosom, and tenderly pressed him to a Heart that loved him more than all the World, and more than that World ten times told.
In about three Days more, they arrived safe, at Hamstead, and stopping at the Court of a large House, that was delightfully situated, they were welcomed by a Gentlewomanly looking Matron, whom James had fixed for Housekeeper, about a Fortnight before.
The next Day, Mr. Fenton and his blithe Companions were attended at Table by James and the two Footmen.
As soon as the latter Grace was said, and the Cloth taken away; Harry, says Mr. Fenton, it is now our turn to wait on James and his Fellow Servants. For God made us all to be Servants to each other, and one Man is not born a Bit better than another, and he is the best and greatest of all who serves and attends the most, and requires least to be served and attended upon. And, my Precious, he, that is a King to Day, if so it shall please God, may become a Beggar To-morrow, and it is good that People should be prepared against all that may happen.
Having so said, he took his Associates down to the Hall, just as the Servants had sat down to Dinner. He gave his Domestics the Wink, and, beginning to set the Example, asked Mrs. Hannah, and Mr. James, and Mr. Frank, and Mr. Andrew, what they would please to have? The Servants, readily falling in with their Master's Scheme, ordered Harry to bring such a Thing, and Ned to fetch such a Thing, and Harry to do this, and Harry to do that. While Harry, with a graceful Action, and more beautiful than Ganymede the Cup-Bearer of the Gods, flew cheerfully about, from Side to Side, preventing the Wishes of all at Table; so that they poured upon him a thousand Blessings from the Bottom of their Hearts, and, would now scarce have parted with him for the mighty Rewards, which his Father, some Time after, proposed for his Recovery.
Within a Fortnight after this, Mr. James, the House Steward, had furnished a large Lumber-Room with thousands of Coats, out-Coats, Shirts, Waistcoats, Breeches, Stockings, and Shoes, of different Sorts and Sizes, but all of warm and clean, though homely Materials.
When this was done, Mr. Fenton led his Favourite up to the Stores, and said; my Harry, you see all these Things, and I make a Present of all these Things to my Harry. And, now tell me, my Love, what will you do with them? Why, Dada, says Harry, you know that I can't wear them myself. No, my Dear, says Mr. Fenton, for, you have Clothes enough beside, and some of them would not fit you, and others would smother you. What then will you do with them, will you burn them, or throw them away? O, that would be very naughty and wicked indeed, says Harry. No, Dada, as I don't want 'em, myself, I will give 'em, to those that do. That will be very honestly done of you, says Mr. Fenton, for, in Truth they have a better Right to them, my Harry, than you have, and that, which you cannot use, cannot belong to you. So that, in giving you these Things, my Darling, it should seem, as if I made you no Gift at all. O, a very sweet Gift, says Harry. How is that, says Mr. Fenton; why, the Gift of doing Good to poor People, Sir. Mr. Fenton, then, stepping back, and, gazing on our Hero, cried; whoever attempts to instruct thee, my Angel, must, himself, be instructed of Heaven, who speaks by that sweet Mouth.
But, Harry, it would not be discreet of you to give these Things to the common Beggars who come every Day to our Door; give them Victuals and Half-Pence or Pence a-piece, and welcome. But, if you give such Beggars twenty Suits of Clothes, they will cast them all off, and put on their Raggs, again, to move People to pity them. But, when you spy any poor Travellers going the Road, and, that your Eye-sees that they are naked, or your Heart tells you that they are hungry; then, do not wait till they beg of you, but go and beg of them to favour you with their Acceptance; then take them in, to the Fire, and warm them, and feed them; and, when you have so done, take them up to your Store-Room, and clothe them with whatever you think they want. And, believe me, my Harry, whenever you are cold, or hungry, or wounded, or in want, or in Sickness, yourself; the very Remembrance of your having clothed, and fed, and cured, and comforted, the naked and the hungry, the wounded, and the afflicted, will be Warmth, and Food, and Medicine, and Balm to your own Mind.
While Mr. Fenton spoke, the Muscles of Harry's expressive Countenance, like an equally tuned Instrument, uttered Unisons to every Word he heard.
From this Day forward, Harry and Ned, by Turns, were frequently out on the Watch; and, often single, or in Pairs, or by whole Families, Harry would take in a poor Father and Mother, with their helpless Infants, driven perhaps from House and Home, by Fire, or other Misfortune, or oppressive Landlord, or ruthless Creditor; and, having warmed, and fed, and clothed, and treated the Old-Ones as his Parents, and the Little-Ones as his Brothers and Sisters, he would give them additional Money, for Charges on the Road, and send them away the happiest of all People except himself.
By this Time, Mr. Fenton had inquired into the Circumstances and Characters of all the Poor in the Town and throughout the Precincts, and, having refuted or confirmed the Intelligence he had received, by a personal Inspection and Visit from House to House, and, having made Entries of all such, as he deemed real Objects and worthy of his Beneficence, he invited the Heads of the several Families to take a Dinner with him, every Sunday, at his Hall.
On the following Sunday, there came about thirty of these Visitants, which Number soon increased to fifty weekly Guests.
On entering, they found the Cloth ready spread, and Mr. James, having counted Heads, laid a Crown, in Silver, upon every Plate; which first Course was a most relishing Sauce to all that followed. A plentiful Dinner was then introduced, and, the Guests being seated, Mr. Fenton, Harry, Ned, and the four Domestics attended, and disposed themselves, in a Manner the most ready to supply the Wants of the Company. The Guests, all abashed and confounded at what they saw, sat, some Time, with open Mouth, and unswallowed Victuals, much less did they presume to apply to the Waiters for any Article they wanted; till, being encouraged and spirited up, by the Cheerfulness, Ease, and Readiness of their Attendants, they became, by Degrees, quite happy and jovial; and, after a saturating Meal, and an enlivening Cup, they departed, with elevated Spirits, with humanized Manners, and with Hearts warmed, in Affection, toward ev'ry Member of this extraordinary House.
By the means of this weekly Bounty, these reviving Families were soon enabled to clear their little Debts, to the Chandlers, which had compelled them to take up everything at the dearest Hand. They, were, also, further enabled to purchase Wheels and other Implements, with the Materials of Flax and Wool, for employing the late idle Hands of their Household. They, now, appeared decently clad, and with happy Countenances. Their Wealth increased with their Industry. And the Product of the Employment of so many late useless Members became a real Accession of Wealth to the Public. So true it is, that the Prosperity of this World, and, of every Nation and Society, therein, depends, solely, on the Industry or Manufactures of the Individuals. And, so much more nobly did this private Patron act, than all ancient Legislators, or modern Patriots, and Landlords; whose Selfishness, if they had but common Cunning, or common Sense, might instruct them to increase their proper Rents, and enrich their native Country, by supplying the Hands of all the Poor, within their Influence, with the Implements and Materials of the Prosperity of each.
In the mean Time, Mrs. Hannah, daily, instructed the Children in the Reading of English. Neither was Mr. Fenton inattentive to any Means that might preserve and promote the Health, Action, and corporal Excellencies of his little Champion.
He held a large Lawn, behind his Garden: and, hither he summoned, three Times in every Week, all the Boys of the Vicinage, that were within two Years, advanced above the Age of our Hero. To these he appointed Premiums for Football, Hurling, Wrestling, Leaping, Running, Cudgelling, and Buffing. But the Champions were enjoined to invest their Fists with little Mufflers, insomuch, that, how great soever their Vigour might be, the Bruises that they gave stopped short of Mortality.
Now, though these Premiums were, almost, universally adjudged to the Party of which Harry then happened to be a Member, or, individually, to himself for his single Prowess and Pre-eminence. Yet, he never would consent to bear the Prize from the Field; but, either gave it to some Favourite among those, with whom he had been associated; or to the particular Champion whom he had worsted in Contest. For he felt the Shame and Defeat of his mortified Adversary, and consolingly hinted at the Injustice of the Judges, and reformed their Error, by the Restoration of the Reward.
One Day, while Harry was watching to intercept poor Travellers, as eagerly as a Fowler watches for the rising of his Game; he heard a plaintive Voice, behind the Hedge, as he thought, in the opposite Field. He flew across the Road, and, passing through a small Turnstile soon found the unhappy Objects he sought for. He stood, for some Time, like a Statue, and his Compassion became too strong for Tears or Utterance: but, suddenly turning, and flying back again, he rushed, with Precipitation, into the Room where Mr. Fenton was writing a Letter. What is the Matter, said Mr. Fenton, starting, what has frighted you, my Harry, what makes you look so pale? To this Harry replied not, but catching hold of his Hand, and pulling, with all his Force, O come, says he, O come, Dada, and see.
Mr. Fenton then got up, and suffered himself to be led where the Child pleased to conduct him, without another Word being asked or answered on either Side.
When they were come into the Field, Mr. Fenton observ'd a Man sitting on the Ground. His Clothes seemed, from Head to Foot, as the tattered Remainder of better Days. Through a squalid Wig, and Beard, his pale Face appeared just tinctured with a faint and sickly Red. And, his hollow Eyes were fixed upon the Face of a Woman, whose Head he held on his Knees; and, who looked to be dead, or dying, though without any apparent Agony; while a male Infant, about four Years of Age, was half stretched on the Ground, and half across the Woman's Lap, with its little Nose pinched by Famine, and its Eyes staring about, wildly, though without Attention to any Thing. Distress seemed to have expanded its utmost Bitterness on these Objects, and the last Sigh and Tear to have been, already, exhausted.
Unhappy Man, cried Mr. Fenton, pray, who or what are you? to which the Stranger, faintly, replied; without lifting his Eyes. Whoever you may be, disturb not the last Hour of those who wish to be at Peace.
Run, Harry, says Mr. Fenton, desire all the Servants to come to me, immediately; and bid Mrs. Hannah bring some Hartshorn and a Bottle of Cordial.
Away flew Harry, like feathered Mercury, on his Godlike Errand. Forth issued Mr. James, Frank, and Andrew. And last came Mrs. Hannah, with the House-Maid and Cordials.
Hannah stooped, in Haste, and applied Hartshorn to the Nose of the Woman, who appeared wholly insensible. After some Time, her Bosom heaved with a long-rising and subsiding Sigh, and her Eyes feebly opened, and immediately closed, again. Then Hannah and the House-Maid, raising her gently between them, got a little of the Cordial into her Mouth, and bending her, backward, they observ'd that she swallowed it. Then James, Frank, Andrew, and the House-Maid, joining their Forces, lifted her up, and bore her, as easy as possible, toward the House. While Harry caught up her Infant, as a Pissmire does its favourite Embryo, in a Time of Distress, in order to lodge it in a Place of Protection and Safety.
In the mean Time Mr. Fenton and Mrs. Hannah put their Hartshorn, with great Tenderness, to the Nostrils of the Stranger, and requested him to take a Sup of the Cordial. But, he, turning up his dim, though expressive Eyes, feebly cried, are you a Man or an Angel? and directly fainted away.
They rubbed his Temples, with the Spirits, and did their utmost to recover him, but a sudden Gust of grateful Passion had proved too strong for his Constitution. On the Return of the Servants he was, also, carried in. A Physician was, instantly, sent for; Beds were provided and warmed, in haste; the new Guests were all, gently, undressed and laid therein; and, being compelled to swallow a little Sack Whey, they recovered to a kind of languid Sensibility.
The Physician gave it, as his Opinion, that this unhappy Family were reduced to their present State, by Excess of Grief and Famine. That Nourishment should be administered, in very small Proportions. And, that they should be kept as quiet, as possible, for a Fortnight at least.
WHILE all imaginable Care is taking for the Recovery of these poor People. We beg leave to return to the Affairs of their Protectors.
Friend.
A Plague upon your return! This is just like a Man in whose Company I once travelled; we were advanced on our Journey, in a fair and happy Road, when he took it into his Head to ride back again, in search of an old Glove. Here you have raised my Curiosity to the highest, and equally distressed me in favour of this unhappy Family, when, in the Instant, you fly off from the Satisfaction expected. But here also, I presume, you are upon Honour; you are entrusted with Secrets, and would not for the World betray them to your Readers.
Author.
Sir, you never were more mistaken. I know nothing at all of these People's Affairs. As soon as they are able they will speak for themselves. I know of no Advantage that they can get by their Silence, whatever they may derive from your Compassion and Generosity by telling their Case. But the Doctor, for the present, will not permit them. — Proceed, my Friend, I pray you. Your Patience will have but a very short Trial.


CHAPTER 6
ABOUT a Month before this, Mr. Fenton had engaged one Mr. Vindex, the Schoolmaster of the Town, to come, for an Hour every Evening, and initiate the two Boys in their Latin Grammar. But, he had a special Caution given him, with respect to the generous Disposition of our Hero, which was said to be induced to do any Thing, by Kindness; but to be hardened and roused into Opposition by Severity.
In about ten Days after the late Adventure, Mr. Fenton was called to London, where he was detained, about three Weeks, in settling his Books with his Dutch-Correspondents; and in calling in a very large Arrear of Interest, that was due to him upon his Deposits in the Funds.
During his Absence, Mr. Vindex began to assume a more expanded Authority, and gave a freer Scope to the surly Terrors of his Station.
Ned was, by Nature, a very lively, but very petulant Boy; and when Vindex, reproved him with the imperial Brow and Voice of the great Mogul, Ned, cast upon him an Eye of such significant Contempt, as no Submissions or Sufferings, on the Part of the Offender, could ever after compensate.
The next Day, Mr. Vindex returned, doubly armed, with a monstrous birch Rod, in one Hand, and a Ferule in the other. The first he hung up, in Terrorem, as a Meteor is said to hang in the Heavens, threatening future Castigation to the Children of Men. The second he held, as determined upon present Action; nor was he unmindful of any Hook, whereon to hang a Fault; so that, travelling from Right to Left, and from Left to Right, he so warmed the Hands of the unfortunate Edward, as ruined the funny economy of his Countenance, and reduced him to a disagreeable Partnership with the Afflicted.
On the Departure of Vindex, though Ned's Drollery was dismayed, his Resentment was, by no Means, eradicated. For the Principle of Ned was wholly agreeable to the Motto of a very noble Escutcheon, and, Nemo me impune lacessit, was a Maxim, of whose Impropriety not Saint Anthony, himself, could persuade him.
All Night he lay ruminating, and brooding on Mischief in his Imagination, and, having formed the Outlines of his Plan toward Morning, he began to chuckle, and comfort himself, and exult in the Execution. He, then, revealed his Project to his Bedfellow, Mr. James, who was greatly tickled therewith, and promised to join in the Plot.
Full against the Portal, that opened upon the School-Room, there stood an ancient and elevated Chair, whose Form was sufficiently expressive of its Importance. Mr. Vindex had selected this majestic Piece of Furniture as, alone, suitable to the Dignity of his exalted Station. For he judiciously considered that, if Thrones and Benches were taken from among Men, there would be an End of all Dominion and Justice upon Earth.
Through the Centre of the Seat, of this Chair of Authority, Ned got Mr. James to drill a small Hole, not discernible, except on a very minute Scrutiny. He then provided a cylindrical Stick of about six Inches in length, to one End of which he fastened a Piece of Lead, and, in the other End he fixed the Head of a large Needle. This Needle had been a Glover's, of approved Mettle, keen, and polished, and three-square, toward the Point, for a quick and ready Penetration of tough Leather. He, next, fastened two small Chords, transversely, to the leaden Extremity of the Stick, and, James assisting, they turned the Chair with the Bottom upward, and tacked the four Ends of the Chords, in such a manner, as answered to the four Cardinal Points of the Compass; while the Stick remained suspended in an upright Direction, with the Point of the Needle just, so far, through the Drill, as put it upon a Level with the Surface of the Seat. Lastly, they fastened a long, and well waxed, Thread about the Middle of the Stick, and, drawing this Thread over the upper Rung, they dropped the End of it, just under Ned's Stool; and replaced the Seat of Learning in its former Position.
Greatly did Ned parade it, when, on Trial, he found that his Machine answered to a Miracle; for, the Stick being restrained from any Motion, save that in a Direction to the Zenith; on the slightest Twitch of the Thread, the Needle, instantly, mounted four Sixths of two Inches above the Surface of the Seat, and was, as quickly, recalled by the Revulsion of the Lead.
At the appointed Hour of Magisterial Approach, in comes Mr. Vindex. Master Harry and Ned are called. Each seizes his Book; and takes his Seat as usual in a Line nearly, diagonal to the right and left Corner of the Chair of Authority. Mr. Vindex assumes the Chair. But, scarce was he down, when Ned gives the premeditated Intimation to his Piercer, and up bounces Vindex, and gives two or three Capers, as though he had been suddenly stung by a Tarantula. He stares wildly about; puts his Hand behind him, with a Touch of tender Condolence; returns to the Chair; peers all over it with Eyes of the most prying Inspection; but, not trusting to the Testimony of his ocular Sense, in a Case that, so very feelingly, refuted its Evidence, he moved his Fingers over and over every Part of the Surface; but found all smooth and fair, in Spite of the late sensible Demonstration to the contrary.
Down again, with slow Caution, subsided Mr. Vindex, reconnoitring the Premises, to the right Hand, and to the left.
As his Temper was not, now, in the most duleet Disposition; he, first, looked sternly at Ned, and, then turning toward Harry, with an Eye that sought Occasion for present Quarrel, he questioned him, morosely, on some Articles of his Lesson. When Ned, not enduring such an Indignity to the Patron of his Life and Fortunes, gave a second Twitch, with better Will, and much more lively than at first; and up, again, sprung Vindex, with redoubled Vigour and Action, and bounded, plunged, and pranced about the Room, as bewitch'd. He glared, and searched all about, with a frantic Penetration, and pored into every Corner for the visible or invisible Perpetrators of these Mischiefs. He, now, began to imagine that some Devil wanted a Pincushion, and proposed no other, for the Purpose, than his capacious Material.
In this Thought, he retreated to the next Chamber, stripped off his Clothes, his Shoes, and Breeches, and, to know whether a Lodgment had been duly made; he groped for the Heads of the supposed Weapons. He next searched his Breeches, and every Skirt and posterior Fold of Coat and Waistcoat. But, finding the Coasts clear of any Ensigns of Hostility, he writhed and twisted his Head and Eyes to this Side and to that to discern, if possible, the Devastations that had been made in the Field of Honour; when, hearing a little Titter in the neighbouring School Room, he began to smell a Fox, and, dressing himself again, with a malignant Determination of better Note for the Future, he returned with a Countenance of dissembled Placability, and, resuming his Chair, began to examine the Boys, with a Voice apparently tuned by good-Temper and Affection.
During this short Serene, poor Ned happened to make a little Trip in his Rudiments; when Vindex turned, and cried, to our Hero, Master Harry, my Dear, be so kind to get up and reach me you Ferrule.
These Words had not fully passed the Lips of the luckless Pedagogue, when Ned plucked the String with his utmost Force, and Vindex thought himself, at least, impaled on the Spot. Up he shot, once more, like a sudden Pyramid of Flame. The Ground could no longer retain him, he soared aloft, roared, raved, cursed, and swore, like a thousand Infernals. While Ned, with an Aspect of the most condoling Hypocrisy, and Words, broke by a Tone of Mourning, tenderly inquired of his Ailments.
Vindex turned upon him an Eye of jealous Malignity, and taking a sudden Thought, he flew to the Scene of his repeated Infliction, and, turning up the Bottom of the Seat of Pain, this complicated Effort of extraordinary Genius lay revealed, and exposed to vulgar Contemplation.
He first examined, minutely, into the Parts and Construction of this wonderful Machinery, whose Efficacy he still, so feelingly, recollected. He then, drew the String; and admired, with what a piercing Agility the Needle could be actuated by so distant a Hand. And, lastly, and deliberately, he tore away, Piece by Piece, the whole Composition, as his rascally Brethren, the Turks, have also done, in their Antipathy to all the Monuments of Arts, Genius, and Learning throughout the Earth.
In the meanwhile, our Friend Edward sat trembling and frying in his Skin. All his Drollery had forsaken him; nor had he a single Cast of Contrivance, for evading the Mountain of Mischiefs that he saw impending. How indeed could he palliate? what had he to hope or plead in mitigation of the Penalty? where, in the Party, so highly offended, he saw his Judge and his Executioner.
Mr. Vindex had now the Ball wholly at his own Foot, and, that Ned was ever to have his Turn again, was a Matter no way promised by present Appearances.
Vindex, at length, looked smilingly about him, with much Fun in his Face, but more Vengeance at his Heart. Mr. Edward, said he, perhaps you are not yet apprised of the Justice of the Jewish Laws, that claim an Eye for an Eye, and a Breech for a Breech; but I, my Child, will fully instruct you in the Fitness and Propriety of them.
Then, reaching at the Rod, he seized his shrinking Prey, as a Kite trusses a Robin; he laid him, like a little Sack across his own Stool, off go the Breeches, and, with the left Hand he holds him down, while the Right is laid at him with the Application of a Woodman who resolves to clear Part of the Forest before Noon.
Harry, who was no way privy to the Machination of the Needle, now approached, and interposed in behalf of his unhappy Servant. He petitioned, he kneeled, he wept; but his Prayers and Tears were cast to the Winds and the Rocks, till Vindex had reduced the Posteriors of poor Ned, to a Plight little different from those of Saint Bartholomew.
Mr. Vindex justly deemed that he had, now, given a Lesson, of such ample Instruction, as might dispense with his Presence for some Days at least.
In the mean Time, the Scalping of Ned's Bottom held him confined to his Bed, where he had full Time, and Leisure, to contrive, with one End, a just and worthy Retribution for the Sufferings of the other.
Harry went, often, to sit, and condole with Ned in this the Season of his Calimity; and, as he had, now, conceived a strong Aversion to the Pedagogue, on Account of his Barbarity; he offered to assist his Friend in any Measures deemed adequate to the Stripes and Injuries he had received.
The House of Mr. Vindex was a large and old-fashioned Building, with a steep Flight of Stone-Stairs, and a spacious Landing-place before the Door. Ned was again on his Legs, the Night was excessive dark, and the Family of the Preceptor had just finished an early Supper.
About this Time, a gentle Rapping was heard, and a Servant, opening the Door, looked this Way, and that Way, and called out repeatedly, to know who was there; but, no Voice replying, he retired and shut all to again. Scarce was he re-enter'd when he hears Rap, rap, rap, rap. The Fellow's Anger was now kindled, and, opening the Door suddenly, he bounced out at once, in order to seize the Run-away. But, seeing no Creature, he began to feel a coming Chillness, and his Hairs to stir, as tho' each had got the Life of an Eel. Back he slunk, closed the Door with the greatest Tenderness, and crept down to reveal a Scantling of his Fears to his Fellows in the Kitchen.
Now, though Men and Maids laugh'd, heartily, at the Apprehensions of Hodge; they yet resented this Insult on their House, as they called it, and, getting all up together in a Group, they slyly, crowded behind the Door, with the Latch in one of their Hands, ready to issue, in an Instant, and detect the Delinquents.
They were not suffered to freeze. Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Open fly's the Door, and out rush the Servants. Nothing appear'd. They all stood, silent, and astonished beyond Measure. Some, however, with outward Bravade but inwards Tremblings, went searching, along the Walls, and behind the Posts for some Lurcher. Again, they gathered to the Landing-place, and stood, whisperingly debating what this might be. When, to the inexpressible Terror and Discomfiture of all present, the spontaneous Knocker assumed sudden Life and Motion; and gave such a Peal and Alarm to their Eyes and Ears, as put every Sense and Resolution to the Rout, and in they rushed, again, one on the Back of t'other, and clapped to the Door, as in the Face of a Host of pursuing Daemons.
Mr. Vindex and his Lady, for some Time past, had been sitting opposite, and nodding over a Fire in the back Parlour, where they returned each other's Salute, with the greatest good Manners and Punctuality imaginable. He now started, on hearing the Rustling in the Hall, and angrily called to know what was the Matter.
Vindex, from the Prejudice of Education during his Infancy, had conceived the utmost Spite to all Spectres and Hobgoblins, insomuch, that he wished to deprive them of their very Existence; and laboured to persuade himself, as well as others, of their Nonentity, but Faith proved too strong, within him, for all his verbal Parade of avowed Infidelity.
While the Servants, with pale Faces and short Breath, made their Relation, the magisterial Philosopher did so sneer, and, contemptuously, toss this Way and t'other, and throw himself back, in such affected Fits of Laughter, as nothing could be like it. Till, bouncing, at the Sound of another Peal, he mustered the whole Family, Boarders and all, to about seventeen in Number, together with Madam Vindex who would not be left sole; and now they appeared such an Army as was sufficient to face any single Devil, at least, and, forth they issued, and filled the Landing place, leaving the Door on the Jar.
Here, Mr. Vindex turned, and, with his Face toward the Knocker thus addressed the Assembly.
My honest, but simple Friends, quoth he, can any Thing persuade ye, that a Spirit, or Ghost, as ye call it, a Breath or Being of Air, a something, or nothing, that is neither tangible, nor visible, can lay hold of that which is? Or are ye such Idiots as to imagine, that you Knocker, (for he did not yet venture to touch it) a Substance, of solid and molten Brass, without Members or Organs, or any internal System or Apparatus for the Purpose, can, yet, be endued with Will, Design, or any Kind of Intelligence, when the least locomotive Faculty, in the meanest Reptile, must, of Necessity, be provided with an infinitely varied Mechanism, of Nerves, Tubes, Reservoirs, Levers, and Pulleys for the Nonce. I should discredit my own Senses on any Appearance contrary to such palpable Demonstration. In all Lights — Soft — break we off — Look where it comes again — For, in this Instant of Affirmation, so peremptory and conclusive; the Knocker, as in Contempt and bitter Despite to Philosophy, so loudly refuted every Syllable of the Premises, as left neither Time nor Inclination, to Vindex, for a Reply. But, rushing desperately forward, he burst in at the Portal, with such as had Presence of Mind to take Advantage of the opening, and, turning again, and shutting the Door violently in the Face of Half of his Family, he ran and threw himself into his Chair, in an Agony of Spirits.
The Servants and Boarders, whom Vindex had shut out, not abiding to stay in Presence of the Object of their Terrors, tumbled, in a Heap, down the Stairs, and gathering themselves up, again, ran, diversely, to communicate, to all their Neighbours and Acquaintance, the Tidings of the enchanted Knocker. Their contagious Looks and Words gave the Panic, throughout; but, Curiosity prevailing above Apprehension, the Town began to gather, though, first, in thin Parties, and at a cautious Distance; till the Crowd, increasing, took Heart and Resolution from Number, and venturing up a Step or two of the Stairs, and being still press'd and urged forward by new Comers from behind, they, at length, filled the whole Flight and the Landing-place, and one of them growing bold enough to lift his Hand toward the Knocker, the Knocker generously, convinced him that no Assistance was wanting. Rap, rap, rap, rap. Rap, rap, rap, rap. Rap, rap, rap, rap. Back recoil the foremost Ranks, casting off and tumbling over the Ranks behind. No one stay'd to give Help or Hand to Friend or Brother, but, rising, or scrambling off on all Fours; each made the best of his Way to the first Asylum; and, in less than ten Seconds, there was not a Mouse stirring throughout the Street.
If I had the Ill-nature of most Authors, who seldom communicate any Thing worthy the Knowledge of the Public, I might, also, leave the foregoing Enigma to be solved, or rather made more implicit, in such ways as Philosophy might happen to account for. But, in Compassion to the Pains of a labouring Imagination, I choose to deliver my Reader, with all possible Ease and Dispatch.
The Fact is, that these astonishing and tremendous Phaenomena, that discomfited little City, alarmed the Country round, and resuscitated the Stories and Legends of the old Women of all the Parishes from Barnet to London, was the whole and sole Contrivance of our Hero's petulant Foundling, during a nightly Lucubration.
Ned had, accordingly, imparted his Plan of Operations to Harry, and Harry had engaged Mrs. Hannah in the Plot.
Now, Mrs. Hannah had a House, in a narrow Part of the Street, just opposite to that of Mr. Vindex, where her Niece and an old Servant resided. This House was narrow, but of the Height of four Stories; and, on the said memorable Night, Ned dropped the End of a Bottom of small Twine from the Garret Window, which Hannah took, across the Way, and fastened, with a double Knot, to the Knocker of Vindex's Door. And, now, it is twenty to one, that if Vindex's Family and the rest of the Neighbourhood had been, even thus far, let into the Secret, they would not have been, altogether, so much alarmed at the Consequences.
I have read of Generals who could gain, but not maintain Conquests; and of Women who could keep all Secrets but their own. Thus it happen'd to Ned. His Vanity was, at least, on a Level with his Ingenuity; he was so elated with the Success of his recent Stratagem, that he boasted of it to some, and half whispered it to others; till it came to the Ears of the much exasperated Vindex. Vindex, in the first Heat, and very Boil of his Passions, snatches up a huge Rod, just cut from that Tree whose bare Name strikes Terror through all our Seminaries of Learning, and, taking with him one of his Boarders, he marches directly down to the House of Mr. Fenton, and, thus formidably armed, he enters the fatal School-room.
Ned, by great good Fortune for himself, was then absent. But, our Hero happening to be there, Vindex, instantly, shut the Door and called him to Task.
Master Harry, says he, did you know any Thing of the strange Knocking at my Door, last Tuesday Night? To this Question, Harry, who was too valiant to be tempted to tell a Lye through Fear, without Hesitation, answered in the Affirmative. You did, Sirrah, cried the Pedagogue, and have you the Impudence, also, to confess it to my Face? Here, Jacky, down with his Breeches, and horse him for me directly.
Jack was a lusty lubberly Boy, about ten Years of Age, and stooping to unbutton Harry, according to Order, our Hero gave him such a sudden Fist, in the Mouth, as dashed in two of his Teeth, that then happened to be moulting, and set him a crying and bleeding after a piteous Manner. Vindex then rose into tenfold Fury, and took our Hero in Hands, himself, and, notwithstanding that he cuffed and kicked and sought it most manfully, Vindex, at length, unbuttoned his Breeches, and set him, in due Form, on the Back of his Boarder.
The Pedagogue, at first, gave him the three accustomed Strokes, as hard as he could draw. So much, my Friend, says he, is for your own Share of the Burden; and, now, tell me who were your Confederates and Abettors in this fine Plot? That I will never tell you, deliberately and resolutely answered our Hero. What, shall I be bullied and out-braved, replied the frantic Savage, by such a one as you? You little stubborn Villain, I will flea you alive, I will carbonate you on the Spot. So saying, he laid at him, as though he had been a Sheaf of Wheat; while Harry, indignantly, endured the Torture, and, holding, in, his Breath, that he might not give Vindex, the Satisfaction of a Groan, he determined to perish rather than betray.
In the mean Time, Ned had peeped in at the Keyhole, and, spying the Situation and Plight of his loved Patron, he ran to Mrs. Hannah and imparted the horrid Tidings. Hannah rose, with all the Wrath of Tisiphone in her Countenance, and, flying to the School-room, she rushed violently against the Door, burst it open in a twinkling, and, springing forward, fastened every Nail she had in the Face and Eyes of Vindex, and tore away and cuffed at a fearful Rate. Jack at this Period, had let his Rider to the Ground, when Harry, catching at a Sword, that hung against the Wainscot, whipt it down, and drawing it from the Sheath, as quick as Lightning, he sprung at Vindex, in order to run him through the Body; but, happily, not having had the Patience to put up his Breeches, they trammelled him in his Advance, and he fell prostrate, with the Sword, in his Hand, which reached the Leg of the Pedagogue and gave him a slight Wound, just as he was endeavouring to make his Way through the Door. Jack had, already, made his Escape, and the mauled Preceptor scampered after, with his Ears much better warmed, and his Temper better cooled, than when he entered.
Harry bore his Misfortune, with a Sort of sullen, though shamefaced, Philosophy. But, every other Member, of this honourable Family, almost adored him for the bloody Proof that he had given of his Virtue; and vowed unpitying Vengeance on the ungenerous Vindex.
During the above Transactions, the Strangers, whom Mr. Fenton had received into his House, had been tended with great Humanity and were, now, on the Recovery.
Mr. James, on conversing with the Head of this little Family. Observed that he was an exceeding sensible Person, and had provided him with a decent, though cast, Suit of his Masters; and had also, with the Assistance of Mrs. Hannah, put his Wife and little Boy into clean and seemly Apparel.
As James's Invention was on the Rack to get adequate Satisfaction on the base spirited Vindex, he went to consult his new Friend, who dropped a Tear of Generosity and Admiration, on hearing the Story of Harry's Heroism and Nobility of Soul.
By his Advice, Mr. James dispatched a Messenger to a Druggist, at London, and to several other Shops for a sundry Apparatus, and, having all Things in Readiness, and, Harry being now able to bear a Part in the Play; James sent a strange Porter to Vindex, with Compliments from his Master, as though he were just come home, and requested to speak with him.
Vindex, accordingly, comes, and knocks. The Door opens, he enters, and it instantly shuts upon him. He starts back with Horror as at the Sight of Medusa. He perceives the Hall all in Black, without a single Ray, save what proceeded from a sickly Lamp, that made the Gloom visible. He is suddenly seized upon by two robust Devils cover'd over with painted Flames. They drag him to the School-Room, but, O Terror of Terrors! he knows the Place of his pristine Authority no more. He beholds a Hell more fearful that his Fancy had yet fram'd. The Ceiling seemed to be vaulted with Serpents, Harpyes, and Hydras, that dropt livid Fire. On one Side ran Phlogiston, in Waves of burning Sulphur. And here, the Tisiphone, Magaera, and Alecto, of the Heathens, appeared to contend for Frightfulness with Milton's Death and Sin. Four Fends, and two little Imps, at once laid their Fangs upon him, and would have drag'd him to the Ground. But the Pedagogue was a sturdy athletic Fellow, and cuffed, and scratched, and roared it out most manfully. The Devil, however, proving too strong for the Sinner, he was cast prostrate to the Earth; and, being left, in Retrospection, as bare as Father Time, some sat upon his Shoulders to keep him down, while others, on each Side, alternately keeping Time, like the Threshers of Barley, gave our Flogger such a Scoring; as imprinted on his Memory to the last State of Magistracy, a fellow-Feeling for the Sufferings of petty Delinquents.
Being all out breathed in turns, they remitted from their Toil; and, now, appeared to be a Set of the merriest Devils that ever were associated. They fastened the Clothes of the disconsolate Vindex, about his Neck, with his own Garters; and, having manacled his Hands before him, they turned him loose to the Street. While he, with a wonderful Presence of Mind in the midst of his Terrors, raised his Hands, the best he could, to cover his Face and hurried homeward; judiciously recollecting, that Forty nine, in Fifty, would recognize the one End, who would not recognize the other, especially in the present Pickle.
Within a few Days, after this Adventure, Mr. Fenton returned. At the first Sight of one another, he and his Harry, grew together for near Half an Hour. He, then, addressed every Member of his Family, One by One; and, with a familiar Goodness, inquired after their several Healths and Concerns. He also asked after his late Guests, and desired to see them; but, on Mr. James's Intimation, that he had somewhat of Consequence to impart to him, they retired to the next Room.
Here, James made him a minute Recital of the preceding Adventures; and set forth, in due Contrast, the Baseness and Barbarity of Vindex on the one Part; and the unassailable Worthiness of his Harry on the other. While the Praise, of this chosen of the old Gentleman's Soul, sunk, like the Balm of Gilead, upon his wounded Mind, and almost eradicated every Memorial of former Grief, and planted a new Spring of Hope and Joy in their Room.
The Table being spread for Dinner, Mr. Fenton sent to desire that the Stranger and his little Family should join Company. They came, according to Order, but entered, evidently overcome with a Weight of Shame and Gratitude too grievous to be borne.
Mr. Fenton saw their Oppression, and felt the whole Burden upon his own Shoulders. He, accordingly, was interested and solicitous in the Removal which he effected with all that Address of which his Humanity had made him a great Master.
Through the Enfoldings of the Stranger's Modesty, Mr. Fenton discerned many Things preceding the vulgar Rank of Men. Mr. Clement, said he, I am astonished, beyond Measure, that a Person of Letters, as you are, and, who has so much of the Gentleman in his Person and Manner, should, yet, be reduced to such Extremity; in a Christian Country, and among a People distinguished for their Humanity. There must be something very singular and extraordinary in your Case. And, this Night, if you are at Leisure, and that the Recital is not disagreeable to you; you would oblige me by your Story.
Sir, answered Mr. Clement, since my Life is yours, you have, surely, a Right to an Account of your Property. Whenever you think proper, I will cheerfully obey you.
Mr. Fenton now rose, and stepped into Town; and, calling upon a Neighbour whom he took to the Tavern, he sent for Mr. Vindex who came upon the Summons.
Mr. Vindex, says he, pray take your Seat. I am sorry, Mr. Vindex, for the Treatment you have got in my House, and still sorrier that you got it, so very deservedly.
I have long thought, Mr. Vindex, that the Method of School-masters, in the Instruction of our Children, is altogether the Reverse of what it ought to be. They, generally, lay hold on the human Constitution, as a Pilot lays hold of the Rudder of a Ship, by the Tail, by the single Motive, I say, of Fear alone.
Now, as Fear has no Concern with any Thing but Self, it is the most confined, most malignant, and the basest, though the strongest, of all Passions.
The Party, who is possessed with it, will listen to nothing but the Dictates of his own Terror, nor scruple any Thing that may cover him from the Evil apprehended. He will prevaricate, and lye; if that Lye is questioned he will vouch it by Perjury; and, if he happens to do an Injury, he will be tempted to commit Murder to prevent the Effects of Resentment.
Fear never was a Friend to the Love of God, or Man, to Duty, or Conscience Page  113Truth, Probity, or Honour. It, therefore, can never make a good Subject, a good Citizen, or a good Soldier; and, least of all, a good Christian. Except the Devils, who believe and tremble, are to be accounted good Christians.
How very different is the Lesson which our Master CHRIST teacheth, who commandeth us, not to fear what Man can do unto us; to smile in Sickness and Calamity; to rise superior to Pain and Death; and to regard nothing, but as it leads to the Goal of that Immortality which his Gospel has brought to Light.
There is, Mr. Vindex, but one Occasion, wherein Fear may be useful, in Schools or Commonwealths. That is, when it is placed as a Guard against Evil, and appears, with its Insignia of Rods, Ropes, and Axes, to deter all, who behold, from approaching thereto.
But this, Mr. Vindex, is far from being the sole Occasion on which School-masters apply the Motive of Fear and Castigation. They associate the Ideas of Pain to those Lessons and Virtues which the Pleasure of Encouragement ought, alone, to inculcate. They, yet, more frequently apply the Lash, for the Indulgence of their own Weaknesses, and for the Gratification of the Virulence of their own naughty Passions. And I have seen a Giant of a Pedagogue, raving, raging, and foaming over a Group of shrinking Infants; like a Kite over a crouching Parcel of young Turkeys.
There are, I admit some Parents and Preceptors who annex other Motives to that of the Rod. They promise Money, gaudy Clothes, and Sweet Meats to Children; and, in their Manner of expatiating on the Use and Value of such Articles; they often excite, in their little Minds, the Appetites of Avarice, of Vanity, and Sensuality. They, also, sometimes add the Motive of what they call Emulation, but which, in Fact, is rank Envy, by telling one Boy how much happier, or richer, or finer, another is, than himself.
Now, though Envy and Emulation are often confounded, in Terms; there are not two Things more different, both in respect to their Object, and in respect to their Operation. The Object of Envy is the Person, and not the Excellence, of anyone; but the Object of Emulation is Excellence, alone; as when CHRIST, exciting us to be emulous of the Excellence of God himself, bids us be perfect, as our Father which is in Heaven is perfect. The Operation of Envy is to pull others down. But the Act of Emulation is to exalt ourselves to some Eminence or Height proposed. The Eyes of Envy are sore and sickly, and hate to look at the Light. But Emulation has the Eye of an Eagle and soars, while it gazes in the Face of the Sun.
Were Tutors half as solicitous, throughout their Academies, to make Men of Worth, as to make Men of Letters; there are a hundred pretty Artifices, very obvious to be contrived and practised, for the Purpose. They might institute Caps of Shame, and Wreaths of Honour, in their Schools. They might have little Medals, expressive of particular Virtues, to be fixed on the Breast of the Achiever, till forfeited by Default. And on the Report of any Boy's having performed a signal Action of Good-Nature, Friendship, Gratitude, Generosity, or Honour; a Place of Eminence might be appointed for him to sit on, while all the rest of the School should bow, in Deference, as they passed. Such Arts, as these, I say, with that distinguishing Affection, and Approbation, which all Persons ought to shew to Children of Merit, would soon make a new Nation of Infants, and, consequently, of Men.
When you, Mr. Vindex, iniquitously, took upon you to chastise my most noble and most incomparable Boy, you, first, whipt him for his gallant and generous Avowal of the Truth. And, next, you barbarously fled him; because he refused to betray those who had confided in his Integrity.
When I behold so many Scoundrels walking, openly, throughout the Land, who are styled your Honour, and your Honour, and who, impudently usurp the most exalted of all Characters, the Character of a Gentleman. I no longer wonder, when I reflect, that they have been principled, or rather unprincipled, by such Tutors as Mr. Vindex.
The merry Devils, Mr. Vindex, who took you in Hand, were not of a Species, so alienated from Humanity, as you might imagine. They have, therefore, appointed me their Vehicle of some Smart-Money, in Recompense, but, desire no further Advantage from your Company or Instructions.
So saying, Mr. Fenton put a Purse of five and twenty Guineas into the Hands of the Pedagogue, and withdrew without speaking another Word.
Friend.
Upon my Credit, this Mr. Fenton—I long to know something more of him—he is a sensible kind of a Man, and has given us some very valuable Hints upon Education.—But, may I be so free with you as to drop some general Remarks upon the whole of what I have read?
Author.
Free, Sir?—by all Means—as free as you please, to be sure—believe me, you cannot do me a greater Favour.
Fr.
Why, there's the Plague on't now,—You begin to kindle already.—Ah, were you Authors to know the thousandth Part of the Liberties that are taken behind your Backs, you would learn to bear, with more Humility, a gentle Admonition though uttered to your Faces.—Few, indeed, have the Generosity, or even Humanity to intimate what they themselves think, or what the World speaks of you. We are seldom over forward to say any Thing that might give Displeasure to others, because we like that others should be pleased with ourselves; but, in your Absence, we pay ourselves largely for our Taciturnity in your Presence; and I have often been in Company, where the Intimates and Confidents of you Authors, have depreciated and ridiculed the very same Passages, which they applauded with Cries and Claps in your Closets. The World, my Friend, has substituted good Manners in the Place of good Nature, whoever conforms to the former is dispensed with from any Observance of the latter. Shall I add, (for the Misfortune of you Authors,) that there is a Set of Men who, at once, dispense with common Manners and common Humanity. They go under the Name of Crities, and must be Men of Wealth, that the Deference paid to Fortune, may give a Sort of Stamp and Currency to the Dross of their Erudition. In the strictest Sense, indeed, they may be called Men of Letters, their Study, as well as Capacity, being nearly confined to a just or orthographical Disposition of the Alphabet. Their Business is to reconnoitre the Outworks of Genius, as they have no Key to the Gates of Nature or Sentiment. They snuff Faults from afar, as Crows scent Carrion, and delight to pick, and to prey, and to dwell upon them. They enter, like Wasps, upon the Gardens of Literature, not to relish any Fragrance of select any Sweets, but to pamper their Malevolence with everything that savours of Rankness or Offence. Happily for them. their Sagacity does not tend to the Discovery of Merit, in such a Case, a Work of Genius would give them the Spleen for a Month, or possibly depress their Spirits beyond Recovery.
To these high and dreaded Lords Justiciaries, the Critics, Authors deem it incumbent to submit the Products of their Lucubrations; not in the Prospect of any Advantage from their Advice or Animadversions; neither in the Hopes of acquiring their Friendship or Patronage; but merely to sooth and deprecate the Effects of their Malignity. Accordingly, I have been present, when some of these Dictators have been presented with a Manuscript, as with an humble Petition; they have thereupon assumed the Chair, as a Judge assumes the Bench when a Criminal is called before him, not in order to Trial or Hearing, but to Sentence and Condemnation. To what Scenes of Mortification have I been Witness on such Occasions! to what a State of Abatement, of Abasement, of Annihilation, have these Entertainers of the Public been depressed!—
I am sorry, Sir, to tell you that this will not do.—A few Attempts here and there, but that will not compensate—Here again how injudicious, absurd, unpardonable!—Lord, Sir, you should have considered that when a Man sits down to write for the Public, the least Compliment they expect from him is that he should think—Here, my Friend, I have seen enough, I cannot affront my Judgment so much as either to recommend or patronize your Performance, all I can do for you is to be silent on the Subject, and permit Fools to approve who have not Sense to discern.
—Thus do these Critics-paramount, with the Delicacy and Compassion of the Torturers of the Inquisition, search out all the Seats of Sensibility and Self-Complacence, in order to sting with the more quick and killing Poignancy.
Now, my dear Friend, as you have not applied for the Favour of these established Arbitrators of Genius and Literature, you are not to expect the least Mercy from them, and I am also free to tell you that I know of no Writer who lies more open to their Attacks. You are excessively incorrect; your Works, on the one Hand, have not the least Appearance of the Limae labour; nor, on the other, have they that Ease which ought to attend the Haste with which they seem to be written. Again, you are extremely unequal and disproportioned; one Moment you soar where no Eye can see, and strait descend with Rapidity to creep in the vulgar Phrase of Chamber Maids and Children. Then you are so desultory that we know not where to have you; you no sooner interest us in one Subject than you drag us, however reluctant, to another; in short, I doubt whether you laid any kind of Plan before you set about the Building; but we shall see how your fortuitous Concourse of Atoms will turn out.
Aut.
Do I want Nature?
Fr.
No.
Aut.
Do I want Spirit?
Fr.
Rather too much of Fire, at Times.
Aut.
Do I want Sentiment?
Fr.
Not altogether.
Aut.
Then, Sir, I shall be read, and read again, in despite of my own Defects, and of all that you and your Critics can say or do against me. The Truth is, that the Critics are very far from being Bugbears to me; they have always proved my Friends, my best Benefactors; they were the First who writ me into any kind of Reputation; and I am more beholden to their Invectives, than I am to my own Genius, for any little Name I may have got in the World; all I have to fear is that they are already tired of railing, and may not deem me worth their further Notice. — But pray, my good Sir, if you desire that I should profit by your Admonitions, ought you not to give me Instances of the Faults with which you reproach me?
Fr.
That would be Time and Labour altogether thrown away, as I have not the smallest Hope of bringing you to Confession. You are a Disputant, a Casuist by your Education; you are equally studied and practised in turning any Thing into nothing, or bringing all Things there out. But don't flatter yourself that I have yet given you the Detail of Half your Faults; you are often paradoxical, and extremely peremptory and desperate in your Assertions. In this very last Page you affirm that the Character of a Gentleman is the most revereable, the highest of all Characters.
Aut.
I did, Sir, I do affirm it, and will make it good.
Fr.
I knew it, Sir, I knew it, but don't choose, at present, to enter into the Discussion. At the next Pause, I shall willingly hear you on this Question.


CHAPTER 7
ON his Return, he ordered a Fire and a Bottle of Wine into his Study, and sent for Mr. Clement. Mr. Clement, says he, sit down. I assure you, Mr. Clement, I am inclined to think very well of you. But, pray, let me have the Narrative of your Life and Manners, without Disguise. An ingenuous Confession and Sense of past Errors, has something in it, to me, full as amiable or more, than if a Man had never stray'd.
Sir, says Mr. Clement, I have, indeed, been faulty, very faulty, in my Intentions; though God has, hitherto, preserv'd me from any very capital Act, and has, by your Hand, wonderfully brought me to this Day.